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The world was black and white, devoid of all other colors — but only until one met their soulmate. Dazai Osamu deeply cherished the fact that the person destined for him turned out to be Oda Sakunosuke. The young man savored every moment they spent together, happily believing that such splendor would never end. How wrong he was. Odasaku died in Dazai’s arms, leaving behind certain moral principles — and an even stronger desire in Dazai to depart from this world.
Fyodor Dostoevsky was never particularly interested in finding a soulmate, someone who could become a weakness in a critical situation. Willingly or not, however, he did meet the person destined for him. A single touch of Ace, and the world burst into color — but that could not interfere with the plan, for the mafioso’s death had already been decided.
They both know all too well that they have lost the chance to find the soulmate destined for them. Yet while one will grieve for the departed for a long time, the other will remain forever cold. Life is a rather curious thing, for despite everything, they understand each other perfectly — sharing a similar cast of mind, though their views on life differ in many ways.
Dazai Osamu had not felt that tender stir of emotion since those distant days when he could peacefully spend time with Odasaku. But now, his heart — which had once seemed devoid of all feeling — once again beat in a wild dance. Osamu had no understanding of why he so desperately wanted to be near Fyodor, who fancied himself a god and had utterly forgotten about mercy, compassion, or love. Someone incapable of stopping even before the most terrifying obstacles, having planned everything a good hundred steps ahead.
Fyodor Dostoevsky has absolutely no understanding of what to make of the anonymous love confessions that arrive for him. He is far too absorbed in his own schemes, and so simply tosses the letters into a drawer, fully aware of who the author is. Dostoevsky looks for a trap even where there is none, completely denying the possibility that the words written might actually be true.
They are both intrigued by what will come next; only, while one waits for an answer, the other would rather make use of someone else’s feelings.
Dazai Osamu is quite surprised when a reply comes to his letters — one that contains a mutual confession of love. Osamu believes it to be true and rejoices like a child. He knows full well that the words might be a lie, but… he doesn’t want to doubt their sincerity. Dazai has no regrets about coming to the appointed place, though he still brings a pistol, if only for some semblance of protection.
Fyodor Dostoevsky never imagined it would be this easy. Of course, Osamu is clever — but clearly far more foolish than Fyodor. Dostoevsky feels nothing, though he is quite capable of pretending to be in love with Dazai, all to begin manipulating him and rid himself of a formidable enemy. Everything is already prepared for the next steps; all that remains is to successfully slip into this new, alien role.
They are both ready to begin — even if one of them doesn’t know all the rules from the very start, while the other already knows exactly how it will all end.