A whole year had passed after Mori became the new boss of the Port Mafia. And honestly, Dazai still could not understand how this man survived even a week.
'Idiot.'
That was the word Dazai always repeated in his head whenever he saw Mori sitting behind the big desk, drowning in paperwork and complaining under his breath about the traditionalists who kept questioning his authority. Mori had wanted power so badly he killed the boss himself. But Dazai was almost surprised to learned he did not properly plan what to do after getting it.
And now, the consequences were biting him every day. Dazai watched from the side with his arms crossed and tilted head while Mori rubbed his temples for the tenth time that morning.
"Hah... They are demanding a meeting again." Mori muttered. "The old families want to argue about my leadership. Again! And honestly, they are so stubborn."
Dazai let out a long and loud sigh.
'You're the one who didn't prepare anything.'
When Dazai first agreed to be Mori's witness, he thought that he would leave immediately after the whole situation settled. Dazai even thought Mori would simply take his power and run everything on his own.
But that's not the case.
Mori turned out to be someone who could flawlessly plan a murder. But it turned out he couldn't plan what came after that murder. And because of that, Dazai somehow ended up helping him.
Not because he cared about the Port Mafia. Not because he cared about Mori. He simply helped because watching everything collapse was too messy and annoying. So Dazai helped Mori little by little.
He sat through meetings with the traditionalists. He pointed out the holes in Mori's structure. He listed every executive and sub-executive who might betray him in the near future. He identified the people who would be loyal only when convenient. He even reorganized the rank structure so Mori would have enough support to remain boss for more than a few months.
It was tedious. It was tiring. And most importantly, it was annoying.
But Dazai did it anyway because Mori clearly had no idea what he was doing.
"Here." Dazai said one afternoon after dropping a thick folder on Mori's desk. "This is the list of members you need to keep an eye on."
"Hmm?" Mori hummed while checking the top file.
"Look at these one." Dazai added while tapping the left column. "These people will betray you the moment someone offers them a sweeter deal."
Mori blinked his eyes and looked at Dazai. He was clearly impressed with his meticulous work.
"How did you get this?" Mori asked instead.
"I have ears." Daza dryly replied while pointing to the bandaged side of his head. "And unlike you, they work."
Mori only laughed it off.
The reformation continued for months. Dazai quietly removed some people in their organization while Mori handled the public parts. Although Dazai would never say it out loud, they still rebuilt the entire Port Mafia structure from the inside together.
Slowly but surely, Mori gained enough strength enough to silence the traditionalists. Of course, they still complained because complaining was their nature. But they no longer had the power to challenge him directly.
One evening, Mori leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs after a long meeting. Elise was ignoring him and busied herself by drawing some childish pictures.
"Things are finally settling thanks to you, Dazai-kun." Mori said with a soft laugh.
Dazai just rolled his eyes at him.
"You know... You'd make an incredible executive."
Dazai slowly turned his head and stared at Mori with a blank expression on his face.
"No." Dazai replied.
Mori tilted his head.
"No?"
"No."
"That's your only answer?"
"Yes."
Mori chuckled but he didn't looked offended at all.
"Why not? You're already working like one."
"I'm not part of the Port Mafia." Dazai lazily replied. "I'm only helping you because it's less annoying than watching you fail."
"That sounds like a yes in another language." Mori teased.
"It's a no in every language." Dazai refuted.
Mori only gave him the same unsettling and calm smile that he always had. He didn't push Dazai further. He simply accepted it which somehow annoyed Dazai more.
Dazai got up from the sofa in Mori's office and stretched his arm above his head.
"Anyway, do your job properly so I don't have to keep fixing it." Dazai muttered.
"Yes, yes." Mori replied with amusement. "I'm really very grateful to you, Dazai-kun."
Dazai clicked his tongue in annoyance. He hated how Mori treated everything like a light joke. But at the same time, maybe he was used to it by now.
Soon, he walked toward the door and intending to take a nap somewhere quiet.
"Oh, right. Dazai-kun?" Mori called.
"What now, Mori-san?" Dazai asked.
"Just so you know..."
Dazai raised a brow.
"If you ever change your mind, the executive seat is always open for you."
Dazai didn't turn around. He just lazily waved a hand in dismissal.
"Don't count on it."
And he left the room.
Even after a year, Dazai felt nothing toward the Port Mafia. He didn't feel loyal or proud of it. He was just a ghost wandering through its halls and observing how everything changed without ever feeling the change himself.
And at the same time, Mori was still relying on him. Dazai thought that even if he was the reason Mori was still standing as boss after one whole year, he would never admit it aloud. It was for the sake of his little peace and to save Mori a face.
But in his mind, Dazai would always call Mori an idiot.
-//-//-
Somewhere in America, the music was too loud inside a dim and sketchy night club. The lights were too bright and the crowd was too drunk to notice anything outside their own world.
A man in his early thirties was sitting alone at the bar counter and lazily swirling the ice in his glass. His eyes looked bored and tired as he watched the crowd dancing. The neon lights were flickering on his face and reflecting the chaotic rhythm of the club.
He was on his third drink. Or maybe fourth. But the man didn't really care. Then his gaze stopped.
On the dance floor, there was a teenage girl moving with slow and rhythmic sways. She looked around fourteen or fifteen years old. And she wasn't dancing like the others. She looked wild, sloppy and noisy. Her movements were controlled, seductive and mesmerizing. This girl knew exactly the kind of attention she attracted and she used it.
The girl smiled when their eyes met. It was a slow and teasing smile. And that smile was directed at him.
Then the girl continued dancing. This time, it looked intentional as if she was giving him a private show in the middle of the crowded club. Seeing this, the man's lips curled into a grin.
He drank the last of his rum and slammed the empty glass on the counter. Then he slowly stood up. The girl glanced at him once before she slowly slipped away from the dance floor like a shadow.
The man followed her with a smirk. Everyone was busy minding their own businesses and nobody noticed when the man left. The club was too loud, too dark and too wrapped in its own drunken world to care.
The girl moved past the back door. Then she walked to a narrow hallway and out into a hidden alley beside the building. It was dark there with only a broken lamp flickering in and out.
"Hello there, pretty girl."
The girl leaned on the wall with a small tilt of her head. She was smiling as if she was waiting for him. Then the man slowly approached her with a smirk.
"Well... Aren't you something?" he said while placing his hands on her hips.
The girl softly giggled. It was a high and innocent sound that didn't match her eyes at all.
But the man ignored it. He continued flirting with her for a moment. Then he leaned in closer while breathing the sweet scent of her perfume.
"Such a nice scent from a pretty girl like you."
The man lowered his mouth toward her neck. He wanted to have a taste first. He was grinning to himself while thinking tonight would become wild and interesting.
But his lips never reached her neck. Because a small knife suddenly materialized in the girl's hand. And in one swift and silent movement, she buried the blade straight into the side of his neck.
The man's eyes became widened. He was shocked, confused and in pain. But before he could scream, the girl clamped her hand over his mouth while pushing the knife deeper until the hilt was pressed against his skin. In an instant, warm blood gushed against her fingers and splattered onto her jacket.
The man weakly struggled. His legs were shaking but the alley was too dark and too quiet for anyone to notice. Soon, his strength slowly gave out and his body slid against the wall. Then he stopped moving.
The girl held him for a moment longer to make sure he was no longer breathing. Then she pulled the blade from his neck. His blood poured from the wound and staining the ground.
The knife shimmered faintly in her hand but when she let it go, it simply vanished into thin air as if it never existed. Then she wiped her hands on a handkerchief, folded it neatly and tucked it back into her pocket.
With a soft sigh, she took out her phone and dialed a number. It rang once before someone answered it.
"It's done." the girl calmly said.
A woman lightly laughed on the other end. It was a calm but elegant laugh.
(I knew I was right to entrust this job to you, my dear. You would handle it so beautifully.)
"If that's all, then I'll leave now. I still have a flight to catch in an hour." the girl flatly replied.
(Oh? Leaving without saying goodbye to your mother?)
The woman on the other line teased her in a voice dripping with false sweetness. But the girl said nothing. She just ended the call and put her phone back in the pocket.
The silence returned to the alley. The dead man was slumped against the wall with his eyes open but now lifeless.
The girl did not look at him for long. She simply turned around and walked away from the alley. While she stepped back into the dim club hallway, her hand reached up and pulled off the wig she was wearing.
Her long chocolate hair fell down her shoulders. Her expression was calm but her eyes looked emotionless. The girl slipped the wig into a metal trash can nearby together with her jacket stained with blood. Then she lit a lighter and threw it in the trash can. Soon, the wig and the jacket burned and leaving no evidence.
After making sure everything was clear, the girl straightened her clothes and walked away like nothing happened. After a few minutes of walking, the girl stepped out to the main street and blended into the crowd with ease. Then she lifted a hand and hailed a taxi before sliding into the back seat without looking back at the alley.
"Airport." she calmly told the driver.
As the cab pulled away, the girl checked her inner pocket and took out her passport and a single plane ticket in it. Her eyes rested on the destination printed clearly at the top.
It was Japan.