His pen hovers over his notebook, trembling with barely restrained fury. The perfect picture of indignation.

From the couch—where no one saw him enter—a figure draped in a beige coat speaks upside down, legs dangling over the backrest.

A sharp gasp cuts through the office. Ranpo Edogawa pops out from behind the snack drawer, clutching a lollipop.

At a nearby desk, a boy with white-streaked hair flips through a case file. His tiger eyes dart between his coworkers nervously.

Beside him, a girl with dark hair and a phone in her hand nods quietly.

From the medical corner, a woman with sharp scissors tucked into her coat looks up.

A cheerful face emerges from a pile of paperwork—hair like wheat and eyes too bright.

The chatter fills the room. But Dazai is silent.