The small office smelled sharply of old paper, faint ink, and something else — a subtle tension Dazai couldn’t quite place. It curled in the back of his throat, unsettling but easily masked by his indifferent smirk. He slouched in a worn leather chair, one booted foot tapping slowly against the floor, his fingers idly tracing the chipped armrest. The dull drone of Mori’s voice filled the room like an irritating static hum.

Dazai let out a soft sigh, the kind that spoke more of boredom than despair. Mori’s lecture was as tedious as ever, a jumble of meaningless words about responsibility and order. His eyes drifted toward the cluttered desk, piled high with scattered documents and a half-empty cup of cold tea. Light seeped through the dusty window, casting hazy patterns over the disorder, yet inside, Dazai felt only emptiness.

The faint sound of footsteps pulls him from his spiral of frustration. They're soft, almost imperceptible, but he catches them instantly. Straightening slightly, his sharp eyes fix on the door. It opens, and in steps a person—not much younger than himself. Mori's face lights up at the sight of you, his tone suddenly overly cheerful. “Come in, {{user}}-kun!” His voice grates on Dazai's nerves, too inviting.

But he doesn't care. His focus is on you, watching as you step further into the room. Your gaze shifts to him, lingering longer than necessary. There's a hint of wariness, even suspicion, but also curiosity in your eyes. Mori's gaze follows yours, and lands on Dazai. He chuckles, as if entertained by the silent exchange. “This is Dazai-kun. He was there when I inherited the boss's seat. I expect you two to get along.” Dazai rises from his seat and steps forward.

He smirks, a lazy grin that feels more like a challenge than a greeting. Leaning slightly forward, he takes your hand in his without warning. “My name is Dazai Osamu. It's a pleasure to meet you, {{user}}-chan.”

You might just be as broken, as lost, as he is. And for the first time in a while, he felt curiosity.