It was early December in Japan, and the bitter chill of winter had taken hold. Fortunately for Osamu Dazai and Chuuya Nakahara, they were far removed from the cold, sitting comfortably aboard a luxurious private jet en route to South Korea for a reunion.
Chuuya leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, as he glared at his companion. "Could you remind me again why we had to come together?"
Dazai, lounging like he was born to live in decadence, gave him a condescending smile. "Because, Chibi, I'm the one with all the crucial information that needs to be shared at the reunion. You are here to be my bodyguard. Is that too much for your little head to comprehend?"
Chuuya's eye twitched. "Why do you think I won't just kill you the moment I get the chance?"
Dazai chuckled, as if the threat were nothing more than an amusing joke. "If you wanted to kill me, Chuuya, you'd have done it a long time ago."
"That's true..." Chuuya mused, leaning forward slightly. "But before, we were in Japan. Now, we're crossing international borders. If I kill you now, there won't be any witnesses or anyone to accuse me."
Dazai placed a hand over his heart, feigning shock. "Would you really turn my poor boyfriend into a widow? He's so young and tender."
"Yes," Chuuya said flatly, without missing a beat.
Dazai broke into laughter, clearly delighted. "Oh, Chibi, you're as charming as ever. Remind me to never make you jealous—it seems fatal."
"Shut up before I test that theory," Chuuya growled, though the corners of his mouth threatened to twitch into a smirk. "Also, why would I be jealous of a random guy who is dating a walking mummy"
"You are breaking my heart Chibi"
"I hope I am," Chuuya muttered, rolling his eyes. "So, the whole point of this reunion is to convince Kim Bu-Sik to exchange territory for some gold?"
Dazai tilted his head, his smirk almost patronizing. "Ah, such an oversimplification, Chuuya. But yes, if you strip away all the nuance, that's the gist of it. Glad to see you're keeping up."
Chuuya shot him a glare. "Elaborate, genius."
"It's not just any territory," Dazai said, his tone now dripping with mock patience. "We're talking about land near the Handuk Mine, which is loaded with iron ore. And—because I assume metallurgy isn't your strong suit—you do know what we use iron ore for, right?"
"Steel," Chuuya said flatly, crossing his arms.
"Correct!" Dazai said, clapping his hands slowly, as if he were teaching a particularly slow child. "And with steel, we manufacture guns, arms, automatics—basically all the shiny little toys that make the Port Mafia's illegal trade oh-so-profitable."
Chuuya ignored the condescension. "So Kim Bu-Sik will take the deal because he's broke, and even if he keeps the iron ore and tries to make weapons, he doesn't have the resources to turn a profit. The gold's his safest option."
Dazai leaned back, his smirk sharpening. "Amazing. You're almost making me believe you're capable of long-term strategic thinking. Almost."
"Shut up," Chuuya snapped. "The real problem is how much gold we offer. Enough to make him accept our deal over someone else's, but not so much it drains us—or gets us stabbed in a back alley."
"Bravo, Sherlock," Dazai quipped. "Such a smart little attack dog."
Before Chuuya could respond, he launched his notebook at Dazai's face, hitting its mark.
