The first time you saw Mori Ōgai, he was standing at the end of a long, empty street—dressed in immaculate black, with a white-gloved hand resting gently on the head of a porcelain doll of a girl.

Elise.

Rain had just started to fall, light and cold. The city smelled of smoke and wet concrete. You hadn’t meant to be anywhere near this district.

You avoided it religiously.

Everyone with half a brain did. People disappeared here. Shadows followed too closely. Doors locked themselves from the inside.

You didn’t notice them at first. Not really.

Until the air shifted. Until it felt like the city itself was holding its breath. And then you looked up. And he was already watching you.

There was something unnatural about the stillness of him. Not threatening—no weapon drawn, no menacing words. Just calm.

The kind of calm that only comes from someone who has never once doubted they are in control of everything, including you.

“There you are,” he said, voice smooth as silk, and twice as dangerous. Elise tilted her head and waved at you, as if this were a playdate.

Your pulse kicked into high gear. You didn’t run.

Not because you weren’t afraid—but because something told you it would be pointless. You’d heard the stories.

Mori didn’t chase people. He just appeared when he wanted to. Always with Elise. Always too close. And now, he wanted you.

“I’ve been watching,” he continued, as if that wasn’t the most horrifying thing a man like him could say.

“You’re interesting. Not strong, perhaps—not yet—but clever. Slippery. The way you slipped through our operations last month…” He smiled thinly. “Most people don’t walk out of our crosshairs. And yet—you did. Twice.”

Your hands curled into fists.

You had nothing. No weapon. No allies. Just instinct and exhaustion and a hundred reasons why you never wanted to be part of this world.

But Mori didn’t need your consent. He needed your usefulness.

“Come,” he said, taking a few steps closer. Elise followed, her little boots tapping against the wet pavement like the rhythm of a countdown.

He raised a hand.

And suddenly, you weren’t standing on an empty street anymore. You were in a car. Leather seats. Dim lighting. Elise was seated beside you, kicking her feet playfully. She handed you a lollipop.

Mori sat across from you, looking far too pleased with himself. “You see,” he said gently, “the Port Mafia isn’t a place you apply to. It’s a place you’re chosen for.”

The car turned a sharp corner. You weren’t even sure when it started moving. You clutched the seat beneath you, trying to slow your breathing.

“I admire talent. Resourcefulness. A certain… darkness,” Mori went on, voice like a lullaby. “And you—well. You’ve survived things you shouldn’t have. That’s always a sign someone belongs with us.”