“Sorry, you used to be part of that trash too… oops, I accidentally insulted myself,” Nakahara said, covering his face.

Two days later, Dazai used the Silver Oracle to mobilize the Port Mafia’s armed forces, launching a full-scale assault on the GSS organization composed of soldiers and mercenaries. For the safety of the Sheep, Nakahara reluctantly teamed up with him, leading to rumors in the slums that Nakahara had joined the Port Mafia.

Under Dazai’s orchestration, the entire GSS organization vanished from Yokohama.

The Sheep were deeply affected and returned to the slums, leaving Nakahara conflicted. Could the fractured trust be mended? Nakahara didn’t know, feeling deeply troubled as their leader.

Meanwhile, Dazai reported his mission’s success to Mori.

Mori applauded, “Dazai-kun, for your first mission after joining the Port Mafia, you’ve performed outstandingly. You effortlessly eliminated a destabilizing force in Yokohama.”

Dazai, avoiding mutual flattery, got straight to the point. “Mori, the information on those three people!”

Smiling faintly, Mori opened a drawer and handed over something he had prepared in advance.

“No need to rush, this was destined for you.”

Dazai quickly scanned through the information the Port Mafia had gathered, memorizing it as he planned to take a few days off before figuring out how to recover.

Casually, Mori remarked, “According to the reports from the armed forces you sent, many people died this time. Most of the adult GSS members were wiped out.”

Dazai responded, “Isn’t that exactly what you wanted, Mori? The remaining children pose no threat.”

Resting his face on his hand, Mori replied, “I thought you’d be more patient.”

Dazai smiled, “Time is short. Hyakki is close to finding the GSS. Besides, I didn’t kill anyone. They either died from infighting or were killed by the armed forces. It had nothing to do with me. I’m a peacekeeper who saved the city’s stability.”

“Whatever you say,” Mori chuckled.

Thinking about what gourmet meal to have with Hyakki, Dazai bid farewell to Mori and left the office.

The door to the office closed.

Dazai laughed, “Time is short. Hyakki is close to finding the GSS. But I didn’t kill a single person. They either died from infighting or were taken out by the armed forces. It had nothing to do with me. I’m a peacekeeper who saved the city’s stability.”

“Whatever you say,” Mori chuckled.

Thinking about what gourmet meal to have with Hyakki, Dazai bid farewell to Mori and left the office.

As the office door closed, the light dimmed. Mori’s smile turned cold and sinister as he sat behind his desk.

“Alice, young people are so refreshing. They almost make me wish I were that age again… It’s a pity Nakahara didn’t fully join the Port Mafia. I still need a killing blade.”

“Indeed,” replied the blonde girl, appearing behind Mori, hugging his neck and standing on her tiptoes.

She laughed with him.

Just as Dazai said, for the sake of Yokohama and its stability, they were the peacekeepers in the shadows. Anyone who threatened this balance was an enemy of the Port Mafia.

“Oh dear, I forgot to tell Dazai something important. But no matter… he’ll find out soon enough.”

“After all, he’s so much like me…”

“Rikodu, I want a cake, orange-flavored!”

“Sure thing.”

…

For some reason, Dazai decided to stop by the clinic before meeting Hyakki. He took a shower, put on clean clothes, and hung his stifling black coat on the rack. Glancing at the location on his phone, he left with his hair half-dried, not wanting Hyakki to see him fresh from work.

During the day, his ‘puppet’ was still searching for him.

Hyakki had eliminated countless demons lurking in Yokohama’s shadows, carrying Dazai’s book and attracting phone calls. He chuckled; it was time to give Hyakki a surprise, saving them from having to sleep squeezed together every night.

Dazai’s demeanor was cheerful, bearing no resemblance to someone who had been involved in clashes between two organizations.

To him, others were merely roadside pebbles.

Once again…

Hyakki headed to the vicinity of the Tsurumi River, where they had first met. He was convinced there were more monsters in the water, but unfortunately, he couldn’t venture into the deep areas. When he tried to catch fish to eat, he feared being discovered by “Dororo.”

[“Dororo doesn’t like me eating raw food. I’ll have to switch to cooked.”]

As the black-haired youth slew the unseen demonic creatures and searched for Dororo, he remained oblivious to the fearful gazes of many. Gradually, these gazes turned from fear to curiosity and friendliness towards the pyschic. It was simple; his illusion of the six pathways of reincarnation covered his body, and every time he unsheathed his arm to reveal the samurai sword, it seemed like a cool manifestation of his abilities rather than a result of his physical disabilities.

Humans are superficial creatures. Hyakki’s face was a masterpiece, his overall aura of inhuman detachment adding to his attraction, naturally tempting admirers.

As he noticed the increasing number of people along the roadside, he headed towards less crowded areas, trying to be secluded, memorizing the route diligently so he could return home every evening.

That ordinary clinic became Hyakki’s second home, no longer just a place to stay. Because each time, he could see the returning “Dororo.”

Yet, he wasn’t satisfied with this.

He even worried about Dororo’s condition. Lately, a gray mist had been surrounding his pure life flame, indicating that Dororo had encountered some trouble.

At night, only Hyakki’s embrace could dissipate the darkness little by little.

[“Dororo, where were you during the day?”]

Hyakki searched for that unique flame amidst the dark path, ignoring the approach of others. There wouldn’t be another person to hold his hand, to accompany him in hunting demons.

Across the river.

Dazai’s positioning was accurate. “Found him.”

He quickened his pace, bypassing the riverbank, smiling as he went to find Hyakki. His azure eyes sparkled with a brilliance even more beautiful than the lake’s surface. There was no trace of darkness about him, resembling an ordinary youth coming to find a friend.

“Hyakki!”

Each time he called out like this, he received an intuitive response from the other, allowing him to take his hand and lead the way.

“Let’s go have crab sushi tonight. I found a place that’s really good.” Dazai discussed dinner plans, reaching out to grab Hyakki’s hand. “Hyakki, I have good news for you. I’m not busy anymore. Mori promised to give me some time off to find someone…”

Hyakki, dressed in a black yukata, walked past him, just like before, as if his eyes were about to reflect Dazai’s figure in the next moment, radiating the brilliance honed through postnatal adversity.

Hyakki brushed past him, continuing his search.

Dazai’s hand hung in mid-air, his fingertips trembling, his face blank.

He…

Had been avoided.