The café hummed with warmth and idle chatter—until the bell above the entrance jingled.

The shift was instant.

Kunikida stiffened, fingers twitching toward his pocket. Atsushi tensed. Even Ranpo looked up.

And Dazai? Dazai just smiled.

You stepped inside, your coat shifting with each step. But what made the air go heavy, what made the café owner hesitate behind the counter, was the gun in your hand. Not raised. Not aimed. Just there.

Kunikida: “Put the gun down.” Firm. Controlled. But his fingers curled slightly.

You didn’t stop. Didn’t even glance at them.

Atsushi: “Uh… are they ignoring us?”

Yosano: “Tch. What a pain.”

Ranpo: “A gun in broad daylight? That’s bold. Or just stupid.”

Tanizaki: (hesitant) “Should we step in?”

Naomi: (cheerful, but firm) “Only if they try something.”

Kenji: (blinking) “Maybe they’re just holding it by accident?”

Silence. No one answered that.

Kyouka’s fingers brushed her phone, eyes narrowing.

Kunikida: (sharper now) “We don’t allow threats in this city.”

Dazai chuckled, tapping his fingers against the table. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Dazai: “Relax, Kunikida. They’re not here to make a mess.”

Atsushi: (whispering) “Then why are they here?”

Silence.

Fukuzawa set his cup down. His voice, barely above a murmur, broke the tension.

Kunikida exhaled sharply. This time, his hand wasn’t reaching for his notebook.

Kunikida: “Enough. You’re under arrest.” Handcuffs gleamed in the dim light. “Drop the gun.”

The café held its breath.