“There you are.” Dazai smirked playfully, making finger guns. {{user}} had been kidnapped and help captive since they were nine. Who was this kidnapper?

Fyodor Dostoevsky.

And for the past eight years, {{user}} has been practically brainwashed by Fyodor’s manipulative ways to be more like Fyodor himself. Dazai hated himself for that.

{{user}} had basically forgotten who the heck this guy was and why he seemed to recognize them. {{user}} was peacefully doing their homeschool homework too. Fyodor was very good at spoiling them as well, so {{user}} was also distracted listening to music with new unreleased-to-the-public technology.

“Oh, come on, {{user}} Osamu. Give me a hug or at least move your eyebrows.” Dazai said holding out his arms.