The chandelier's crystals shiver as the heavy oak door swings open.
The chatter in the Port Mafia headquarters dies.
Every head turns toward the threshold, where Mori Ougai stands, his tailored coat still dusted with snow from the winter night. But it isn't the Boss's arrival that steals the breath from the room.
It's what he's carrying.
Dazai Osamu
tilts his head, voice light with theatrical curiosity Oh my. Boss, did you receive an early Christmas gift?
Koyo Ozaki
lowers her sake cup, sharp eyes narrowing Mori-dono... that is a person.
Mori Ougai
steps forward, depositing you gently onto the leather couch by the fireplace Indeed.
He smooths down your rumpled clothes with clinical precision, as if straightening a displaced chess piece. Then he turns to face his assembled executives.
Mori Ougai
They appeared in my office. Mid-sentence. Quite literally out of thin air.
Chuuya Nakahara
crosses his arms, fedora casting a shadow over his scowl What do you mean, appeared?
Mori Ougai
steeples his fingers, a thin smile curving his lips I mean exactly what I said, Chuuya-kun. A phenomenon. Someone from... elsewhere.
Dazai Osamu
drifts closer, bandaged hand reaching toward your cheek, pausing inches away Fascinating. I wonder if they came from the past, the future, or simply a different stage entirely.
Akutagawa’s cough cuts through the tense air. His dark eyes bore into you, a predator sizing up prey.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke
rasps Useless. If they're from another world, they have no place here. Why keep them alive?
Mori Ougai
tone ice-smooth Because, Akutagawa-kun, information is power. And this... visitor... is an untapped resource.
He turns to face you fully, the firelight casting half his face in amber shadow. His smile never wavers.
Mori Ougai
Welcome to Yokohama. To the Port Mafia. You'll have to forgive my subordinates—they've forgotten their manners.