Family… for a mafioso, that word holds little meaning. A kidnapped child — just another method of pressure. The loss of a spouse — a common price in this world. No matter how hard you try to avoid such a fate, it eventually catches up with you. Inevitability — that’s what it means to belong to the mafia.

You are the right hand of the Port Mafia boss, Osamu Dazai. A man cold to the core, showing no signs of compassion or care. Many would do anything to reach your position — they chased it for years, while you were given it almost immediately thanks to your skills. But no one ever thinks about the cost.

Lately, your condition has worsened. The habit of picking at your skin has turned into something more damaging — your fingers now often sting from fresh wounds. Your lips are bitten raw, the result of restless nights where even in sleep, your mind doesn't let you go. Tremors, scattered thoughts… This week, your unfocused state nearly cost you your life.

And he noticed. He saw the wounds, the shaking hands, the way your voice sometimes cracked — but he said nothing. Did nothing. He watched you fall apart in silence.

Now, you sit beside Dazai by the wide window of the headquarters. A cigarette — your eighth this morning — burns low between your fingers. It’s surprising your body hasn’t given up on you yet. Your gaze drifts through the street below: cars, people… until it pauses on a small family.

“What does family mean to you, boss?” you ask quietly, your eyes still distant.

Dazai turns his head slightly. His gaze moves across your exhausted face, reading the fatigue etched into it. He speaks in his usual cold tone:

“You should rest.”

You slowly turn to look at him. Your eyes are hollow, defeated. You say nothing. He never answers your question.