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Summary
"You think this is some kind of joke?" Chuuya spat. The barrel pressed up beneath Dazai’s chin, forcing his head back like he was something pathetic—something to be studied. Or executed. The jury was still out. “Say it. Say what this is. You owe me that much.”
“You wouldn’t believe me." Dazai laughed—frayed at the edges, like silk torn on wire. "And you’d hate me anyway.”
“I already do.”
Fleeing the Port Mafia was never going to be clean—it was a manhunt, knives in the dark, blood in the water. Dazai knew the price of betrayal, and he was prepared to pay it. Almost.
What he wasn’t prepared for was facing Chuuya again.
Not like this.
Not with a gun between them, a loaded silence, and too many things left unsaid.Caught between a past too bloody to forget and a future built on half-truths, the two are forced to confront the fallout of everything they never said—and in the wreckage, something fragile that refuses to die.
They’re left treading the line between defection and duty, betrayal and mercy, and the dangerous weight of what it means to be chosen.
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