Chapter 55

After closely intertwining his life with Osamu Dazai’s, Takizawa Sho finally realized the immense organization he was managing.

In the past, he had followed behind Dazai and occasionally seen the former leader. Mori would sometimes wear a troubled expression and tell Dazai how hard things were, then cast a subtle, peculiar glance toward Takizawa Sho. Sho had always thought it was his own imagination—that Dazai paying attention to someone as inconspicuous as him was nothing more than a strange delusion, even more absurd than mistaken affection. Meanwhile, Dazai would mock Mori’s receding hairline, implying between the lines, “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”

The work that the officers had to do wasn’t insignificant, but with five officers dividing responsibilities, the burden was somewhat distributed.

Now, every document Dazai had to handle passed through Takizawa Sho’s hands. Dazai didn’t seem to mind whether Sho read them or not, which made Sho realize—this guy was pushing his body to the limit for a reason.

Money was the lifeblood of the organization’s operation, and the Port Mafia had numerous income channels. The gemstone trade previously managed by Naka was still running, alongside other goods sourced from overseas, disputes over an unclaimed treasury, management of shops under their name, and even a wealthy tycoon who had bought his way into an officer position with cash.

None of these surprised Takizawa Sho, but what did shock him was the organizations Dazai had absorbed and the enemies who were eyeing the Port Mafia greedily.

The blue-eyed youth sifted through backup files in the library. Dazai, who was sorting and marking papers nearby, seemed to sense something and lifted his head. Holding a pen, the only sounds in the room were their movements. “Takizawa, what are you looking for?”

“Your past,” Sho replied with an artistic yet ambiguous tone. “You never bring it up yourself. As if everything that’s happened around you these past few years can be summed up in one sentence: you rose to leadership and made the Port Mafia a far more dominant force in Yokohama than ever before. No other incidents worth mentioning, right?”

“There’s no need to bring them up. They’re all in the past,” Dazai said.

“Yeah, yeah. For you, it seems the only thing that matters is a good outcome; the hardships along the way don’t count,” Sho said, descending the ladder with a new folder in hand. “You don’t care if others care. First, I want to understand what decisions you made, then analyze your mindset at the time—even if my guesses might be wrong. But judging from your rapid expansion, I know you were insane when you worked.”

Dazai propped his chin on his hand, watching him leisurely. “What’s wrong? Do you want to be the leader too?”

“Haha? Leader? Only if I want to string my kidney stones into a necklace.” Sho laughed at his own joke. “If I ran the organization, I can already picture myself being hung on a wall as a warning: ‘Look, this is the dumbest leader ever.’”

His self-mockery and strange phrasing gave Dazai a familiar look of shock and speechlessness. His slightly widened eyes looked both stunned and innocent.

Sho felt he had verbally attacked Dazai’s spirit and burst out laughing. “Haha... speechless?”

He moved to the small table diagonally opposite Dazai. The room was perpetually dark to avoid light, with only a desk lamp glowing on Dazai’s table. After Sho arrived, he had added a fireplace with a burning glow effect and stylish wall lamps that emitted a jungle-like flicker.

Though still dim, the lighting was comfortable and soothing.

“...Takizawa.”

“When you say it so seriously, I can’t help but get nervous.”

“You’re being too modest.”

Sho shuddered as he heard Dazai’s rare, positive evaluation.

He asked dazedly, “You’re not going to call me an idiot anymore?”

“Actually, now, even the former ‘King of Sheep’ has the qualifications and ability to be a leader.” Dazai’s tone sounded as if he were delivering a eulogy. “This organization doesn’t have to rely on me alone, and you guys are far from fragile.”

Sho held back a retort and obstinately said, “Are you admitting you’ve been emotionally manipulating me all along?”

Dazai was silent.

“Just kidding. I’m just not used to hearing you speak so seriously to me. When it comes to work, I never thought of myself as anything other than your subordinate. My strength lies in unquestioningly following your orders and trusting you more than anyone else.”

“Others may say I lack ambition or drive, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not pursuing that kind of thing.”

...

Dazai’s hand trembled slightly, still holding his fountain pen.

He had heard these words countless times before.

At first, he resisted Sho’s approach but was helplessly drawn in by his nature. Sho was never stingy with his verbal honesty.

—“I don’t really know what you believe in or don’t, but I feel like as long as I become someone you can believe in, that’s enough.”

—“I don’t lie, I don’t break promises, I don’t say one thing and do another. My heart won’t waver or change.”

Sho didn’t say these things every day. He knew empty words were the most detestable. His actions spoke louder than words.

“I’ve already reviewed your first year as leader. Next is—”

Sho’s voice faltered as he turned the page of the records.

Next was the Port Mafia’s furious expansion.

During the first year of the leadership change, the organization fractured internally and faced turmoil externally. Dazai spent six months reorganizing the group, then devoted the rest of the year to absorbing other small and medium-sized mafia groups.

The Port Mafia became the undisputed dominant force. Other groups had to band together to survive. Their combined strength was formidable, so Dazai employed tactics to sow discord and turn them against each other.

After dismantling and absorbing them, he took over their industries—industries far from honorable.

When Mori Ougai took over, his intention was to protect the city. Later, the organization evolved into a group licensed for supernatural activities, becoming the city’s armed force.

But the mafia’s actions always plunged ordinary people into hellish misery. Sho didn’t even want to look at the horrifying business descriptions, operating principles, or the vast number of people involved. It was a complete display of human wickedness—without conscience, without morals—like demons in human skin.

“You destroyed these dens and even compensated the victims... Wow, Dazai, are you the city’s invisible hero?”

It was incredible. Dazai seemed to wield the Port Mafia like a weapon, a violent force doing what could be called ‘saving lives.’

This made Sho understand why the system rated his tasks as “S.”

The Transmigration Bureau liked to use “story outlines” and “overall futures” as tools to evaluate their operatives’ work.

“Don’t you think it’s funny to give me such a title?” Dazai relaxed his tense body slightly. He was drenched in cold sweat, as if awaiting judgment, yet sighed calmly. “I just don’t want to cause trouble with the government.”

“Yes, yes, whatever you say.” Sho put aside the files that gave him a mild heart attack just from scanning them. He propped his chin up in almost the same posture as Dazai and smiled at him. “But I still want to say, thank you for your hard work, Dazai.”

Dealing with those matters was no different from confronting the wasteland and decay of human nature.

And Sho knew that seeing those things only deepened Dazai’s despair.

The black-haired youth froze for a moment.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if just learning to breathe, lost and confused. His gaze traced meaningless patterns in the air, as if Sho’s direct stare alone was a tremendous pressure on him.

Then, he stiffened his lips like rusty gears and gave a faint smile. “What are you saying? That’s not something a subordinate should say to their superior.”

...

“Hmm, then let’s say it as close friends.”

Sho stood from his seat. “Alright, my respected boss, you’ve been working for two hours straight. How about getting up and dancing with me?”

“No.”

“We can play some upbeat jazz.”

“I said no.”

“It’s time to pull back the blinds. The sea view outside must be beautiful. We just need to hide in a spot safe from sniper sights.”

“Takizawa…”

“I heard that.” The young man who had arranged everything blinked gently. “Are you still going to refuse? I’ll be—very disappointed.”

“...” Dazai grudgingly stood up. His presence before Sho was always dark yet gentle, unlike the harsh, ruthless demeanor he showed his subordinates that made them tremble.

Ten minutes later, Ryunosuke Akutagawa pushed open the door to report on task progress: “...”

He stared blankly, then turned away with a twisted expression.

Sho, who was busy searching for a popped button on his clothes, looked up in confusion. “Did someone just come in?”

Dazai withdrew his gaze from the door. “Nothing.”

“If it’s not urgent, maybe you should set a rest period where no one interrupts you?” The carpet was clean and soft; Sho simply sat cross-legged on the floor, relaxed. “Even a leader needs a lunch break.”

Thinking of Dazai’s recent reputation as a workaholic, Sho felt there were too many rules he wanted to change.

“But Akutagawa has been so cold to me. I’ve run into him several times since I got back, and he just nods stiffly and awkwardly. His etiquette is perfect, but I feel like our relationship is as hostile as enemies.”

Dazai looked thoughtfully at Sho. “You think he dislikes you?”

“Not that bad... except for the first time he pointed a gun at me, he hasn’t shown obvious hostility.” Sho scratched his head. “But we used to get along well. He calls you ‘Mr. Dazai’ and calls me ‘Brother Takizawa’!”

Dazai’s expression shifted slightly. He closed his eyes briefly, whether from disappointment or something else was unclear. “That kid is overthinking.”

Overthinking?

Sho was startled, then exclaimed, “What?! Isn’t he usually so tight-lipped?!”

Determined that no misunderstandings would remain, Sho rushed over and opened the door, placing a hand on the dark-eyed youth’s shoulder. “Akutagawa, let’s talk!”

Ryunosuke Akutagawa trembled violently, struggling to resist the urge to pull away. His voice was hoarse as he said, “I... I have something to report to the boss.”

“Is it urgent?”