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    Summary


    "Someone's eager, I see. But it's surprising, really," Dazai, seemingly lost in thought, swiftly brushed off Fyodor's request. "I'd never accuse you of taking interest in such vile acts."

    Very well; I'll play with you this game of cat and mouse if that's what your heart desires.

    "Unfathomable are the nuances of the human psyche, Dazai."

    "I really do find your psyche interesting, though. Didn't you say that our bodies are sacred temples just a few days ago?" Dazai didn't expect an answer, really; the question was asked out of pure malice, and he presumed his cellmate would know this by now. But Fyodor either didn't notice or didn't care for his intent.

    "Over time, unused temples will rot from the inside—when that happens, they must be destroyed and built anew."

    "Oh, I see how it is now! You just want me to wreck you, destroy you in the worst way possible, so I can further your delusion of belonging amongst the saints."

    How ironic it was—the question Dazai wanted to know the answer for Fyodor laughed off with nothing but a small chuckle.

    Language:
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