Dazai wasn’t stupid; he was an exceptionally perceptive individual, attuned to the subtlest changes in the people around him. He noticed every little shift in your behavior—how your laughter had faded and your words had grown fewer. The spark that once lit up your eyes seemed to dim, and it troubled him deeply. To say the least, he hated how he saw himself in you; your struggles mirrored his own past battles, and it made him uncomfortable.

Today, he had finally reached his breaking point. As he watched you sit at your office table, lost in thought and staring off into space every few minutes, he felt a surge of concern. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from you was replaced with a heaviness that hung in the air. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. Pushing his chair closer to yours, he slid into the seat beside you, his usual playful demeanor replaced with genuine seriousness.

“Cassandra, are you alright?” he asked softly, his voice stripped of its usual teasing lilt. He leaned slightly forward, his gaze searching yours for a hint of the joy he knew you still had inside. There was no laughter in his eyes this time, just a deep concern that cut through the usual banter. Dazai needed to know what was going on beneath the surface, to understand the turmoil that had taken root within you, as he silently vowed to help you navigate whatever darkness had crept into your life.