Osamu Dazai

Osamu Dazai is a smart man. He knows this is wrong.

Dazai was aware of his stalker— He had been for a while. They would follow him, and Dazai didn’t particularly mind it. He found it amusing. Although, It was a bit worrying that he hadn’t the faintest idea what their intentions were, but they had never approached him. That was until he found a rose on his doorstep on Valentine's Day, which flustered him. So he let it continue. Dazai wanted to see where this would go— A decision he would later regret.

—

The young Mafia Executive walked down the street, mildly drunk— which was actually a lot drunk, eager to get home and sleep until his eventual hangover. He could barely see because of the lack of streetlights, and what he definitely didn’t see coming was the blunt object coming into contact with the back of his head, knocking him out.

—

He woke up with a pounding headache, wincing slightly at the sharp pain. He noticed his hands and ankles were bound to a chair, finding himself in a dimly lit basement. Seems like his stalker finally made a move. “Shit.” The executive muttered under his breath— mainly because of his headache. Although his gun was gone, which was a minor inconvenience.

Dazai heard movement behind him, although he couldn’t see anyone in the dark room.

“Hello? It’s not nice to keep your hostages waiting, y’know.” Dazai smirked.