Dictator

10. The Demon Prodigy

Golden eyes were fixed on the clock hung high above her head. It felt like she was locked up for an eternity; time barely moved at all. Sun beams seeped through the curtains oh her office, bouncing off her skin. Yet all of that bright light drowned in her dark eyes. To say that Tomie was exhausted would've been the biggest understatement of the century. Mind clogged and foggy, she was losing herself and her sense of reality again, dissociating into a frenzy.

Tomie couldn't worry about the three-way-war breaking loose between the Port Mafia, the Armed Detective Agency, and the Guild right now. She had faith in Mori, she always did. Even when the most precious person in her life slipped before her fingertips, Tomie's faith in Mori never wavered. He'd do what's best for his organization regardless of  her interference. Tomie's only concern was the Detective Agency, or rather a specific rookie of the Agency. His arrival in Yokohama spread like wildfire amongst supernatural human beings, and the Port Mafia was the quickest to make a move. She swore that once she got his hands on him, not even the Port Mafia would be able to approach him.

Tomie released a sigh out of exhaustion. Her body's been in the same position for quite some time, her muscles had gotten numb at this point. She felt like she wouldn't feel an inkling of pain if she was hit with a baseball bat. Tomie closed her eyes momentarily and allowed her body to relax. Though it wasn't enough to calm down the havoc in her mind.

Her peace and quiet was disturbed by a sudden knock on the door. Tomie immediately shifted her attention to the source of the noise. Normally she didn't really mind it, since this was a shared office. Chuuya usually bargained inside like a hurricane. But this time in particular, she had strictly ordered that to not be bothered.

"Madam..." I heard a fragile, high pitched voice that came behind the door. I instantly recognized that it was one of my own assistants. "My sincerest apologies. I know you said you didn't want to be bothered, but you have a visitor who demands to see you. We tried to stop him but..."

Tomie slouched further into her leather chair and rested my hands behind her head. She raised her eyebrow at her assistant's words. A visitor? Someone so stubborn that even the Mafia was afraid to oppose? Quite bold, she thought.

Tomie released a groan, "No worries. Let him in."

The wooden door slowly opened with a squeak, revealing a young, pale woman. Her emerald eyes gleamed with embarrassment and her cheeks were slightly tinted. She almost seemed flustered. Her wavy, honey-blonde hair was draped to the side of her shoulder. She wore her casual work outfit consisting of a white shirt, a black bowtie and black, knee-level skirt.

Tomie's guesses were further proven as her eyes shifted to the silhouette that loomed behind the girl. The lack of lights in the hallway made it impossible to make out who the figure belonged to, but Tomie could never not recognize it. He was tall and lanky, with fluffy hair. It could only have only been one person.

The assistant stepped to the side and gestured him inside. A crooked smirk was plastered across his devilish face. His bandaged limbs rested in the comfort of his tan trenchcoat's pockets. Tomie's eyes widened at his presence despite knowing it was him from the beginning. It was Osamu Dazai in the flesh, ex-mafia executive, in the Port Mafia. It felt like a hallucination. Tomie blinked a couple of times, and Dazai seemed pleased with her surprised expression. Just the sight of him alone annoyed her. Looking at his face was unbearable, and if she could, she would've thrown him out of the window of her office, joyfully watching as he plunged nearly 100 stories to the ground.