Bound by Obsession

Part 63

Fyodor's POV

I sat in the dimly lit study of my newest mansion, the room filled with an eerie stillness. The pieces were slowly falling into place, and soon, Dazai would be mine completely. His time away with the Armed Detective Agency was temporary; I had already planted the seeds of doubt, and I knew they would fester.

The chessboard in front of me was half-played, but the opponent didn't matter. Dazai's inner turmoil was my real game. He was struggling between two worlds, and I would tip the balance in my favor. The subtle manipulation I'd woven into his mind during our time together was like poison, slowly seeping in.

My fingers traced the edge of the queen on the board. "You can't run from me, Osamu," I whispered to the empty room. "You know where you truly belong."

Rampo and Chuuya's POV

Back at the ADA headquarters, the team sat in their usual meeting room, tense and exhausted. A week had passed since the rescue mission, and though Dazai had returned, he wasn't the same. He was quiet, detached, and clearly struggling to reintegrate. Fukuzawa had called an emergency meeting, but the sense of unease in the room was palpable.

"He's... broken," Chuuya muttered under his breath, barely audible as he leaned against the wall. He was trying not to let his emotions get the better of him, but the sight of Dazai acting so out of character—so distant—was tearing him apart.

Rampo sat beside him, his brow furrowed. "Fyodor did something to him. Maybe not physically, but mentally? Definitely. He's toying with him, playing some twisted mind game."

Kunikida crossed his arms, clearly frustrated. "But Dazai won't say a word. He avoids every question, keeps to himself, and when he does speak, it's like he's following some script Fyodor gave him."

The room fell silent as Fukuzawa spoke. "We have to proceed carefully. Fyodor's threat isn't just physical—it's psychological. If we don't get to Dazai soon, we may lose him entirely."

Chuuya clenched his fists, his mind racing. "I won't let that bastard win."

Rampo gave him a small nudge. "We'll figure it out, together. Besides, we might have another lead."

Chuuya glanced at him, curious. "What do you mean?"

"Fyodor is playing a game, sure, but games have rules," Rampo said, a small smile playing on his lips. "And we're going to figure them out. For now, let's keep a close eye on Dazai."

Dazai's POV

I lay in my bed at the ADA dorm, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of every word Fyodor had spoken during our week together. His voice echoed in my mind, smooth and persuasive, pulling at every corner of my thoughts.

"If they ask, tell them I drugged you. It'll keep you safe for now," he had said, his fingers lightly brushing my cheek as I sat beside him. I didn't want to believe him, but the more time I spent away from him, the more I doubted myself. Was I truly free? Or was I still caught in his web?

It had been a week since I returned to the ADA, and every day I felt more detached from my old self. The numbness, the fog—it consumed me. My body moved on autopilot, answering questions mechanically, pretending to be the Dazai they all expected.

But inside, I was drowning.

The only time I felt anything close to peace was when I was alone in my room. No expectations. No questions. Just silence. But even the silence was fleeting, as Fyodor's words crept into my thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Dazai?" Rampo's voice was soft. "Can I come in?"

I hesitated for a moment, then muttered a quiet, "Yeah."

The door creaked open, and Rampo stepped inside, giving me a sympathetic look as he closed the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed, studying me.

"Everyone's worried about you," he said gently, his eyes filled with concern. "Chuuya's been a mess since you came back. You're not talking to anyone."

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. "What's there to say, Rampo? I'm fine."

Rampo tilted his head. "Are you? You don't seem fine to me."

I didn't respond, staring at the wall instead.

After a moment of silence, Rampo spoke again. "Look, I know what it's like to feel trapped. To have someone's words mess with your head, make you doubt everything. But we're here for you. Chuuya... he's not the best at showing it, but he cares about you more than you realize."

I glanced at Rampo, his words sinking in. "I don't know if I can ever go back to how things were," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "Fyodor... he's different. He knows things about me no one else does."

"Then let's break that hold he has on you," Rampo said firmly. "You're stronger than him, Dazai. You always have been. We'll get through this, but you have to let us help you."

For the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could fight my way out of this darkness.

Evening at Fyodor's Mansion

In a different part of the city, Fyodor sat in his study once again, a small smile playing on his lips as he sipped from a glass of wine. He knew Dazai was struggling, and that was exactly what he wanted.

The deal with Fukuzawa had gone as planned, and now all that was left was to wait. Dazai would come back to him, willingly or not. The boy's fractured soul was delicate, and Fyodor would break him completely, piece by piece.

"Soon, my dear Dazai," Fyodor murmured to himself, his eyes glinting with a possessive hunger. "You'll realize you belong to me, and only me."

As the moonlight filtered through the tall windows, Fyodor's smile widened. The game was far from over.