Hyakki felt the dizzying sensation of weightlessness for the second time, as if the ground beneath his feet had vanished, leaving him with a sense of insecurity.

**[This is too hard for me.]**

**[This world is not kind to the blind!]**

In his frantic worry over losing “Dororo,” someone immediately grabbed his hand.

Unsteady on his feet, he collided with the body of a human beside him.

White flames were burning.

His mind’s eye outlined the figure, a flame of near-human height with the softness of cotton candy—not the bagged kind from the supermarket, but more like the spun sugar fluff made by street vendors. These wisps gathered into a fluffy cotton candy cloud, clean as white clouds, with a soul untainted by the darkness, like that of a child.

This was his “Dororo,” the clever girl of unknown appearance, who could always find him no matter what.

An hour apart, and nothing had gone wrong. Thank goodness.

**[…I don’t want to lose you again.]**

Hyakki wasn’t in a hotel lobby but in a private guest room. The person he held onto, Dazai, lost his balance and fell onto the bed, grabbing Hyakki’s shoulders. There was no romantic atmosphere between them; they were two fourteen-year-olds who had met in their youth, recognized each other in their wanderings, and had become lonely beasts who could only lick their wounds, now turned into well-behaved dolls in each other’s eyes.

“Hyakki, you’re back. Did you have fun in the future?”

Dazai, also overwhelmed by the emotions of regaining what was lost, gently comforted Hyakki’s back.

He didn’t smell any blood or feel any wounds.

At first, the Vongola family said the time for the Ten-Year Bazooka’s exchange would be five minutes, but this time the exchange lasted a full hour, far exceeding everyone’s expectations. Dazai, at one point, thought he had been tricked and was about to lose his Hyakki, leading to a deep resentment toward the Vongola family.

He couldn’t recall the terrifying thoughts that flashed through his mind in that instant, the desire to destroy the colossal entity in others’ eyes and make everyone in the Vongola family taste the bitterness of losing something precious.

Yes… something precious. Hyakki was the only “possession” Dazai had.

Fortunately, it was only an hour.

Dazai noticed that Hyakki was not happy and couldn’t help but say, “It seems they didn’t treat you well, huh.”

His future self from the parallel universe, ten years later, was simply a useless wreck.

Not only did he make the doll cry, but he also made the twenty-four-year-old Hyakki ask, “Are you my Dororo?” Dazai was stunned—could Hyakki have another Dororo? Hoping for his own happiness was one thing, but seeing his efforts go to waste was another!

“Hyakki, don’t use this as an excuse to cling to me.”

Lying on the bed, Dazai gently cupped Hyakki’s delicate artificial face, their bodies pressed closely together. The steady rhythm of a human heartbeat dispelled their anxiety and tension. As they lowered their guard, they seemed like figures in a painting, with a sliver of sunlight filtering through the curtains, hinting at the adults they would become.

One had their long hair tied back, appearing more ethereal and cold than a ghost; the other had a smile that seemed uncertain and lost.

Everyone wears a mask in life, not because they don’t dare to take it off, but because they fear their true selves are too ugly and will provoke the other’s disgust. Yet at this moment, Dazai felt an urge to remove his mask.

He thought he must have been deeply affected by the future Hyakki.

The other actually needed to guess?

“Listen carefully.”

Dazai tilted his head up, looking seriously at the Hyakki above him. “I am your Dororo.”

He took Hyakki’s hand and guided him to write familiar characters on the bedsheet.

【Dororo】

If he lived within the other’s heart—

Then, let him be the simple Dororo, not the complicated Dazai.

After all.

He even had to muster the courage to admit it at the last minute.

How shameful it was to become another person’s soul-mate, to deceive someone who could not see the world clearly, promising to stay by their side while forgetting all the things he had abandoned in the past. Is there truly something in this world worth prolonging one’s suffering to pursue?

Hyakki, you who chose to live, don’t cry anymore.

Show me the beauty of life.

Before they knew it, it was noon. Dazai and Hyakki, as if they had forgotten what had just happened, participated in a family meal with the Vongola family. Ranpo, as always, was afraid of Hyakki, hiding behind Sawada and no longer causing trouble. Tsunayoshi was very curious about Hyakki, but because of Ranpo, he didn’t approach.

Hibari Kyoya appeared at the end of the meal, bearing wounds from a fight with Nakahara in Namimori. His fighting spirit and pride were unscathed, only growing stronger.

It was simple—after witnessing Nakahara’s full power and corruption, he had set Nakahara as his target.

If he could defeat him easily, it wouldn’t be a worthy target.

As soon as he arrived, his sharp eyes locked onto Hyakki.

“Wow.”

Another predator.

Dazai ignored the newly arrived Hibari and placed food on Hyakki’s plate. Hyakki instinctively reached up to remove his mask, only for Dazai to give a small kick to his right leg under the table.

Hyakki thought, “Alright, I forgot I have a mouth and a tongue.”

His strange habit of touching his face while eating didn’t attract any attention. With a cold expression, he opened his mouth and ate.

He tasted nothing.

Dazai took pleasure in feeding him strange and exotic foods. Whatever he didn’t dare to eat on the menu, he gave to Hyakki to try, judging how hard it was to chew based on the number of bites Hyakki took.

Afterward, during leisure time, Dazai first asked Fuuta to rank the two pieces of information that   Mori needed.

Once the task was done, he calmly made a third request.

“Fuuta, the third ranking is a personal request of mine and has nothing to do with the Port Mafia. Please tell me the most promising way to restore Hyakki to full health…”