The building had been empty for years, all peeling wallpaper and water-stained ceilings. A perfect place for a discreet Port Mafia transaction.

The upper floor smelled of dust and old rain. Most of the smugglers were already unconscious, scattered across the warped floorboards like discarded coats.

Your katana rested loosely in your hand. The dark aura of Black Moon Requiem was slowly fading, curling away into nothing.

Several enemies remained suspended a few feet above the ground, their eyes wide and useless, their bodies twisting uselessly in the air.

You lowered your weapon.

Then footsteps echoed from the corridor.

Dazai stepped into the room with his hands in his coat pockets, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just walked into a Port Mafia operation.

His eyes moved briefly toward the unconscious smugglers, then toward the men still floating helplessly in the air, before settling on you.