Walking In Your Fleeting World || Dazai Osamu

Chapter-33: I want to try living

Punishment or test?

~Riki's POV~

"Paperwork?" I ask confusedly, my gaze tapering to its limit at the round-eyed brunet standing beside me. He is sparkling and beaming in a radiant glimmer, proudly watching the stacked files and a mat-black laptop sitting on top of the desk before us. A new addition to the office, placed right next to the bigger and fancier desk of the executive.

"Yep!" Dazai bobs his head up and down energetically.

"You have so many subordinates working for you," I say slowly, giving each word point-five seconds before stacking and forming a coherent sentence, "And you import me to do your... paperwork?"

"You see Riki-chan," He spins toward me, looking at my face with a comically serious expression. "This is a very very very important job. I can only trust them in your capable hands."

I purse my lips to process the situation, slowly hiding my 'capable' hands inside the pockets of my black dress pants.

He's messing with me, isn't he?

Well, of course he's messing with me! This is supposed to be my 'punishment'. But when he said assistant, I really hoped I'd get to see him actually work.

Unlike his ADA times, he is the boss here. He calls the shots, he does the planning, he does the disciplining... all those things that earned him the 'demon prodigy' title. All those things that are so damn sexy about him.

I let out a small sigh. This isn't that bad either. After all, I'm getting unlimited access to Dazai's criminal records and am expected to write up (absolutely unnecessary) reports on them.

And Dazai Osamu's criminal records mean... premium Dazai content.

I gather my hands in front of my lips, spreading my fingers to look down from the desk, softly asking, "Do criminals really keep records of their crimes?"

"We always keep records." He mimics my tone, looking at the exact spot of the ground I'm looking at as if there's some mystery hidden under it.

"What if the police get their hands on them?"

"You really think cops have the resolve to do us harm?"

"So you guys aren't scared of the police?"

"Other way around, really."

"Then what about the special division?"

"That..." He pauses to nod, puckering his lips a little, crossing his arms. "We are scared of."

I turn my head toward him. "So what if the SDUP finds these... reports?"

He nibbles on his lower lip as if I just presented him with a tough problem. He slowly directs his chocolate gaze at the laptop sitting on the desk, untucking his right hand slightly to point at it, whispering, "It'll be safe within this PC"

I slowly lean into his ear to whisper, "What if it gets hacked?"

"This PC is not connected to an internet connection." He whispers back in the same tone, looking at my face this time. 

Uncounterable argument, but I'm not satisfied. I bend my palms 90 degrees away from my lips, intertwining the fingers. "What if somehow, something goes wrong?"

He doesn't reply to this question, instead gives me a confused smile. "Are you usually this paranoid?"

I scratch around the hairband of my ponytail with a finger, laughing awkwardly in response. I know everything is completely safe, the PC isn't connected to wifi, and no one can break into the mafia buildings to physically access it. And even if it gets hacked, all they'll find is a bunch of writing on a screen with no proof or valid evidence.