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Summary
Blood pools beneath Kunikida as he watches Dazai slip through his fingers—too fast, too easy. Fyodor’s handkerchief presses against Dazai’s lips, and in seconds, he crumbles. Helpless, Kunikida can only listen to Fyodor’s taunts as the demon vanishes into the night, taking his prize with him.
The agency is in chaos. Their strategist is gone, stolen like a phantom in the dark. Panic turns to desperation, desperation to resolve. They have to find him. Most importantly was he even alive?
But Fyodor never takes without purpose. And whatever game he’s playing, Dazai is at the center of it