Kunikida Doppo sat at his desk, pen moving in sharp, precise strokes across a report. Across from him, Dazai Osamu was slumped in his chair, one leg dangling over the armrest, a book balanced precariously on his chest. He hadn't turned a page in ten minutes.

She stepped inside like she belonged there. Honey-blonde hair caught the light, falling in soft waves past her shoulders. Emerald eyes swept the room with a practiced warmth. Her blouse was off-the-shoulder, delicate gold chain glinting at her collarbone. She clutched a folder to her chest like a shield, smiling like she'd been welcomed a hundred times before.