..."What the fuck?! That shit’s gonna haunt my goddamn nightmares!"

My face was probably just as paper-white as that duo by the radiator.

"Sorry," Dazai replied. "The bullets were blanks. I took out the real ones before shooting."

"That’s not the fucking point! I mean, yeah, that too, but — I mean everything! You knew?! You knew from the start that abilities could come back?!"

"Let’s just say I wasn’t a hundred percent sure. But hypnosis is still just hypnosis — it can be broken. I didn’t know how. Turns out, it’s simple: the will to live outweighs any values or beliefs, especially the ones forced on you."

"Fuck..." I muttered. I sank onto the bathroom floor and leaned against the wall, 'cause I don’t know about Dazai, but I needed a fucking minute.

"Besides, I pulled something similar with Akutagawa once," Dazai added. "He’s still alive, so, you know..."

"Hell of a roleplay you two had," I muttered, just to say something. "How’d he not hang himself with you?"

Dazai chuckled, sitting down next to me. "I offered."

I cracked a smile. It was funny, in that fucked-up way. A pair of suicidal idiots — perfect leads for some kabuki play about double suicide.

Then he suddenly asked, "How are they?"

Didn’t take a genius to know who he meant.

"They’re fine. What’s gonna happen to them?" I shrugged. "They’ve got keys to my place, food, Zelda, and more cash than they’ve probably seen in their whole lives..."

"That’s not what I meant."

I said, not looking at him, "Bad. You saw Atsushi."

I wondered how easy it would be for Dazai to pull a gun on his little tiger boy. Or he’d just find a better way to bring their powers back — less panic, more planning...

And then it hit me — this was the first time in all this mess that Dazai had asked about them. Like he’d erased Atsushi and Akutagawa from his life and only started giving a shit again once he was sure abilities could be restored, once they were useful again...

I didn’t like that thought. Not one bit. So I shoved it into the darkest, dustiest corner of my mind.

"What about Akutagawa?"

"Oh, that bastard’s probably better off without Rashomon," I said, all cheery (total fucking lie). "Stopped coughing, doesn’t attack people... Said he wants to be a writer." I remembered suddenly. "Funny as hell, right? Who the fuck even wants to be a writer?"

Dazai’s face darkened.

"One of the few genuinely good people I ever knew wanted to be a writer," he said. "He was a damn good teacher too, for that matter."

He was spiraling into some gloomy bullshit again, but I didn’t feel like lying to him.

"Well, fuck… Bad news, but you’re not him."

"Just say it straight, Chuuya," Dazai murmured, flashing that empty, terrifying little smile of his (lock away all humanity in the vault, toss the key into the ocean). "I’m only good at breaking and killing. Not like I didn’t already know that."

I gave it some real thought.

"Nah. You don’t like breaking and killing. You’re good at it — no lie — but you’re not a killer. You’re not a writer either. Or a teacher. You’re a player."

He actually looked surprised. Crooked little grin.

"And you? A toy?"

I punched him in the stomach and told him to go fuck himself.

Then I asked,

"Why do you even care about being a good teacher? What does ‘good’ even mean to you?"

"Probably someone who helps others find themselves. Like cutting a gem to bring out its shine."

"In that case, Mori’s a fucking great teacher. Loves nothing more than... ‘cutting gems.’ Just… y’know, not much of a person."

Dazai had nothing to say to that. I’d been trying to cheer him up, but somehow, the conversation just got heavier.

"Zelda?" he repeated after a pause.

"Yeah, it’s this game series where some fancy-looking elf boy with pointy ears and bare thighs has been saving his dumbass princess for, like, about thirty years, because the chick’s got a fucking death wish or something—"

"Chuuya, I know what Zelda is. I play video games sometimes. I was just a little surprised..."

"Why?" I scoffed. "Akutagawa bitched about it at first, sure, but he’s human in the end. Probably finished it by now — it’s been a week."

"Akutagawa? Playing games? God..." Dazai looked honestly baffled. "I picked him precisely because he had nothing human in him."

"The tiger makes him a little less of a freak. They’re kinda friends. Or fucking. Though, nah, this is Akutagawa we’re talking about..."

"Why is everything always crude with you, Chuuya?" Dazai sighed. "They’re just friends. And if they ever get their abilities back, they’ll be better than us."

"Bullshit," I shot back. "Nobody’s better than us. I mean, worse than us."

"Alright, fair enough — we’re the worst," Dazai agreed easily.

Sitting there wasn’t so bad. Actually, it was kind of nice. Just amazing how comforting a cold tile floor could be when no one was crying, bleeding, or scared out of their mind.

Of course, those things were still happening in the next room. And nothing was actually over. We were still fucked.

Realizing that, I asked, "Hey, what Wilde said… about Joanne knowing everything… that’s bullshit, right? He lied? He didn’t tell her, I know he didn’t."

Dazai was quiet for a moment, then said, "He lied, but it could be true. A strange paradox — this story is full of them... But it doesn’t matter. My opinion hasn’t changed: I don’t think he told Joanne his suspicions about me. But if she knew all along? That’s possible."

"But... But if she did know, then what, this is all for nothing? We really lost?"

"Not necessarily. There’s always a second strategy."

What was the first? I thought, but I didn’t ask. I just repeated, "Second?"

"We pretend we lost."

Didn’t sound very fucking impressive. And in our case, what was the difference between pretending to lose and actually losing?

"If abilities can come back," I suddenly realized, "we could use those orphan kids against Joanne somehow. That what you were thinking? You already got a hundred sneaky little plans, don’t you?"

"No," Dazai smiled faintly. "Complicated plans fall apart. Especially ones with too many variables. I’m not even sure if we should give their abilities back — some of them might be better off left alone… And I prefer working with familiar pieces. Ones whose moves I can predict."

Yeah, I could see that. But something else was bugging me...

"If you just wanted to test if abilities could come back, why not experiment on one of the other orphan brats? You said there were plenty of little shits in that place... Better to fuck with them than some innocent girl, right?"

I still didn’t know all the shades of Dazai’s poker face. Like right now — his expression was unreadable. There were only two possible explanations for why he’d chosen to run this fucked-up experiment on Anne, of all people. Either the effort of luring some other kid into a trap seemed like too much trouble, or — worse — he just hadn’t even thought about it.

Like all those kids were just... the same to him. 

Hell, not just those kids. Like all people were just the same to him.

That was one of those moments when Dazai scared the living shit out of me. The way he handled sharp objects — too skilled, too damn effortless — that was... well, expected. Natural, even, for the dear disciple of Doctor Mori. Unsettling as hell, sure, but at least familiar. But this — this way of not distinguishing one person from another… Though, I guess, one follows from the other, doesn’t it?

I mean, not actually not distinguishing… Of course he kept the details in his head — names, height, eye color. Muscle and bone density, how long it would take to cut through. A special ability, maybe, that he could use in his next round of whatever fucked-up chess game he was playing.

Which, at the core of it, was true.

But also the biggest goddamn lie there was.

I never went to university, so I can’t explain it all fancy, but I knew one thing for sure — if you actually start believing that people are nothing more than these things, you’re fucking done.

“Why Anne?” Dazai said finally, tilting his head slightly. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted it to be her. So her sisters would see Joanne is lying.”

Huh. That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. But yeah... obvious, really.

Alright. Maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

“We need to figure this out by morning,” he added. “Get to the bottom of whatever’s wrong with Joanne, even if we have to tear our own skin off to do it. Then we’ll come up with a couple of plans. Simple ones. So, we’re making strong tea — yes, I said tea, though I know you’d rather ‘make’ some wine or whiskey — and then we think.”

“By morning,” I repeated. “So we’ve got, what, half a night to crack this case?”

“That’s right,” Dazai said, flashing a quick smile.

He leaned back against the tiled wall and murmured, almost to himself, “Has it really only been a week?”

And in that moment, he looked like nothing more than a regular person — pale, hollowed-out face, a crease between his brows.

Honestly? I liked him better like this. Well… maybe not better. The other Dazai, the first one, I wanted to fuck. This one — this one had been my friend. A long time ago, at least.

I hesitated, then took his hand, even though it felt a little pathetic.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” he muttered — but he didn’t pull away.