Inside an ordinary clinic.

Switching from the leader of the Port Mafia to a barefoot doctor, Mori exclaimed with a rare expression on his face, “Is this the fruit of your busy days?”

He pointed to the bed where Nakahara and Rokodu lay injected with medication, temporarily unable to wake up. Hyakki, who wasn’t among them, sat beside Nakahara’s bed, poking him intermittently with his fingers.

“Mr. Mori, don’t just sit there and talk nonsense. I’ve captured both the King of the Sheep in Leibo Street and the illusionist from Italy. I’ve exceeded your wishes,” Dazai exposed the hypocrisy of adults. Mori had been eyeing the King of the Sheep ever since he took over the position.

And now, not only had he captured the King of the Sheep but also added a bonus illusionist.

“Nakahara is what I wanted,” Mori admitted, then lamented, “But this illusionist… You’ve caused quite a scene, couldn’t hide it from the Penggerei Family in Yokohama. Even if I trade Fukuzawa’s information with Penggerei, it’ll be difficult to save Rokudo.”

Dazai sat on a chair, expressionless, staring at Hyakki, who was absentmindedly poking Nakahara. Meanwhile, Nakahara, who had been treated by Yosano Akiko, remained unconscious, oblivious to the outside world.

Thus, they openly discussed the issue of “human trafficking.”

“Will the Port Mafia be unable to save Rokodu?” Dazai didn’t care about Nakahara’s fate; Mr. Mori wouldn’t let go of a free labor force, so he was more concerned about Rokodu, who could help Hyakki. “I’ve seen his ability; it’s very convenient, equally easy whether to save or kill.”

“Rokudo detests the Port Mafia,” Morisighed, all this trouble caused by human experiments.

Knowing that Dazai wanted to protect Rikodu, Mori casually asked, “Dazai, do you know about the Avengers’ Prison?”

“What’s that?” Dazai heard a fresh term.

Mori explained, “It’s a prison established a hundred years ago, notorious in the underworld. They specialize in incarcerating individuals unfavorable to the Mafia, as well as those who violate Mafia regulations. If our conspiracy is exposed, the Avengers’ Prison won’t let us off the hook.”

Rising to power by assassinating the leader was clearly an act of disrupting the Mafia’s succession system.

Dazai chuckled.

Helplessly, Mori looked at him; Dazai was carefree, unlike himself.

Shifting the topic, Mori continued, “After inquiring with the information brokers in Italy, I learned that Rokudo and his associates are fugitives. Protecting them means going against the Avengers’ Prison.”

Dazai replied, “Sounds like they aren’t very strict with their confinement!”

Mori nodded, smiling as he glanced at Rokodu lying on the hospital bed. “It shows how tricky illusionists can be. It’s hard to keep them locked up; it might be better to show some goodwill.”

Dazai smirked, “Are you afraid he’ll turn against the Port Mafia?”

“Terrified,” Mori admitted without dignity, his face contorted in distress. “Illusionists excel at sowing discord and mental manipulation. The Port Mafia isn’t fully under my control yet. If they cause any internal strife, the opposition will seize the opportunity. The Penggerei Family will mock us as a provincial Mafia!”

“For Tokyo, Yokohama is indeed the countryside,” Dazai remarked.

“Mister Dazai…”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know, undermining the confidence of your own people isn’t a good move.”

    “Okay.”

    Mori was the boss of the rural Mafia, and both Dazai and Rokodu were like his little minions.

    Dazai found the candy Alice hadn’t finished and tossed it at Rokodu’s head.

    “There, now you look like him!”

    “I’m right here, Rokodu!”

    Rokodu, hit by the candy on his head, turned around slowly, his expression vacant. Even at fourteen, after the restoration of his illusion, his features remained distinctive, not lost in the crowd. He seemed like someone who had endured hardships but forgotten how to express himself, strong enough to evoke pity.

    “Why aren’t you happy?”

    Dazai’s grasp of his emotions…