Walking In Your Fleeting World || Dazai Osamu

Chapter-49: There's no mystery

One Step Closer

-Riki's POV-

I barely register Mori's words.

Today was long and stressful, thanks to everything in school. Dazai's call was too sudden even to help me emotionally recover. And inside this vast, anxiety-inducing office of the Port Mafia boss, I can hardly allow myself to breathe.

How can I? He's the only pawn on the chessboard my king cannot control. I can't get on his bad side under any circumstances, especially when I need him to think I'm his trump card against Mimic—Gide.

Mori's ruby eyes watch me quietly, hoping to see some reaction. But I don't give him any, so he lets out a quiet sigh, granting me enough time to sneak a peek behind, at the tall executive who's very good at pretending he doesn't exist.

Dazai's holding some thin, pastel green files in his left hand—he had them with him since I came here. His right hand is free, hanging lazily by his side, not pocketed—he's anything but relaxed. And he shouldn't be. There's a speedster in the room, he has to make sure I don't go and kill his boss.

Dazai's bandaged expression is void, dark. The brown eye I so dearly cherish looks utterly red in the gloomy room. I don't know what's going on in his mind. I don't know how he feels about this. But knowing how he reacted when I volunteered during the Hoshiki case, he should be extremely unsettled by the very idea I'm being considered for such a thing.

"Riki-kun," Mori says, and I brace myself instantly, looking back at him. "The Port Mafia's revenue—eighty percent comes from weapon sales. We invest heavily in black‑market schematics because we stand to make ten times back in production. Our clients commit to purchases before we even begin manufacturing."

I know this trick. He's trying to get me to sympathize. He'll make it seem like they're hopeless without me, so out of sheer kindness, I'll help them out.

To be perfectly honest, I want to. Accepting this mission will take me one step closer to my goal. But at the same time, I don't want Dazai to think I'm jumping into open flame like a dumb moth. The only correct action is to hear Mori out without any defiance, step right into his trap like an oblivious brat, then act like I was forced to comply.

Every inch of my body has gone stiff, but I still manage to nod. "I'm aware of that."

"Without those schematics, our production line grinds to a halt. We already spent a fortune to acquire all the necessary raw materials to meet our clients' demands, but no blueprints means no weapons. Our clients have paid in advance—fail to deliver, and we're forced to refund them, destroying our credibility. Even if we slash every expense, we'll still hemorrhage money in the first quarter. The Port Mafia is on the cusp of significant expansion—this year is pivotal. We cannot afford any setbacks."

No shit.

"Last night, Dazai-kun caught the wind of a very interesting piece of information. The military will move our schematics to a highly secure vault beneath one of their naval bases tomorrow. If we intercept their convoy and reclaim the blueprints, we can protect our reputation and fulfill our commitments."

"I understand the stakes well, Mori-san." I offer him a polite smile, trying to look confident, even as my fingers twitch awkwardly at my sides. What the hell am I supposed to do with my hands?

My legs are nearly paralyzed from standing perfectly still for too long, ignored like a low-level errand girl. Dazai is standing behind me in a way I can't look at him for momentary comfort. Seriously, would it kill Mori if he just invited me to take a seat? I'm a guest, dammit! You're asking me to risk my life. The least you could do is fake some hospitality—tea, expensive cakes, a chair, maybe?