The world consciousness fell silent.
It understood that this was related to Their decision, which was like a joke to Them.
Dazai didn't trust Them; to be precise, the skeptical Dazai didn't trust anyone.
But this was already an extremely safe method.
Dazai opened his eyes and vaguely saw a dark figure squatting on the riverbank across the water. He had sensed it long ago: the direct gaze from the person on the bank, devoid of malice, only pure curiosity and confusion.
He didn't pay it any mind.
He simply rose quietly from the river, dragging his heavy body slowly towards the bank.
"You're out, huh? Want me to give you a hand?" A voice both familiar and strange.
Only then did Dazai look up at the other person.
An oversized, ill-fitting dark trench coat hung on the young man, its overly long hem dragging carelessly on the ground. Even the shirt he wore underneath was wrinkled and had some snack crumbs on it. He carried a shoulder bag that clearly didn't match his outfit, but the other person obviously didn't care about any of this. He merely crunched the candy in his mouth, his emerald green eyes wide, and said with conviction:
"You know me."
Yes, Dazai did know him. He never expected that the person observing him from the bank would be Edogawa Ranpo.
However, this was not an impossible thing.
Edogawa Ranpo was the core figure of the Armed Detective Agency, and the purpose of establishing the Armed Detective Agency was simply to protect him.
And now, with the Armed Detective Agency not yet established, it was normal for Mr. Ranpo, who couldn't take care of himself, to appear on the riverbank in such a disheveled state.
"That's strange, you know me very well, but we haven't..." Halfway through his sentence, Ranpo seemed to realize something. The light of curiosity in his eyes dimmed, and he pursed his lips, asking the question he had been squatting there to ask.
"Why, if you know you can't die, do you still try to commit suicide?" Ranpo was very confused. He could tell that the soaking wet Mafia in front of him recognized him.
He knew the other person truly sought death, but at the same time, was aware that he couldn't die.
This man was too contradictory.
Ranpo couldn't understand why, when he was desperately trying to live, someone else couldn't die and yet was so intent on seeking death.
Perhaps this person could resolve his confusion?
With this thought, Ranpo had waited on the bank until now.
Dazai, now on the bank, shook his dripping hair and casually replied, "To get closer to death."
"Why do you want to get closer to death?" Not getting the answer he wanted, Ranpo pressed on somewhat relentlessly, his tone a little urgent, as if desperately trying to grasp something.
"To find out why to live?" Dazai gave a short laugh and extended his hand to Ranpo, who was still squatting there with a bewildered look in his eyes.
"Want me to give you a hand?"
"No!" Ranpo, whose legs were numb from poor circulation after squatting for too long, simply sat directly on the ground.
Dazai sighed inwardly and sat down on the ground with him. Mr. Ranpo's current living situation was very bad, even chaotic; this was obvious. He hadn't expected that the person most affected after the world's fusion would be Mr. Ranpo. It seemed he would have to find an opportunity to arrange a chance encounter between him and President Fukuzawa.
The night deepened slightly.
Under the streetlights, the shadows of the two people on the riverbank stretched infinitely.
Dazai, who had a clear understanding of Yokohama's nighttime safety: "It's already very late, Mr. Ranpo. Aren't you planning to go back?"
"Isn't that obvious?" Realizing that the other person had a very high tolerance for him and understood him very well, Ranpo, who had been reserved at first, became much more relaxed. These were some small tricks he had learned in the past two years: when facing strangers, it's best to speak less and not talk at length about his thoughts.
"I'm lost."
Ranpo rummaged through his shoulder bag and pulled out a pack of mochi. After tearing open the packaging, he hesitated for a moment, then took one out and offered it to Dazai.
Ranpo rarely shared his food with others, not counting things he didn't like to eat.
"Sorry, I don't eat sweets." Noticing that this wasn't Mr. Ranpo's preferred brand, Dazai's smile subtly faded.
Hearing Dazai's refusal, Ranpo wasn't angry at all; instead, he was in a good mood and stuffed the mochi into his mouth in one go.
That had just been a polite formality.
Ranpo couldn't really understand why people should offer their things to others to eat and pretend to be generous, but everyone around him told him that he should do so.
He should share his things, he should learn to take the train and find his way, he should learn to take care of himself and not bother others with everything... Thinking of the people around him, Ranpo's previously upturned lips pursed again, and his emerald green eyes showed a hint of gloom in the shadows cast by the light.
A person's character is forged by their own experiences.
What would become of Edogawa Ranpo's life if he hadn't met Yukichi Fukuzawa at the age of fourteen?
That outcome was now before Dazai.
The two didn't speak anymore, just sat quietly on the riverbank, watching the sparkling river surface. The atmosphere between them was surprisingly harmonious, with only the rustling sound of Ranpo eating snacks in the air.
Until a series of angry footsteps broke the peace between them.
"Edogawa! How many times have I told you? Remember to take your phone when you go out!!!" The hurried yellow-haired young man vented his anger at Ranpo, who was sitting on the ground leisurely eating snacks.
After speaking, he then saw Dazai, also sitting on the ground, soaking wet, and was about to say something else when Ranpo interrupted him.
"Kuriguchi, I advise you to take back whatever you were about to say." Ranpo stood up and unceremoniously shoved the empty snack bag into the yellow-haired young man's hand.
"I told you, I'm not Kuriguchi!" The young man, whose name had been called incorrectly, forcibly suppressed the urge to throw the trash in his hand at Ranpo's head.
It was always like this, every time. Acting on his own, never listening to others, not even getting their names right. If it weren't for needing this kid's ability, he wouldn't be doing such a thankless task.
The young man glared resentfully at Ranpo. That ability to see through all truths at a glance, what else could it be but an ability?
Ranpo's expression remained unchanged. Ignoring the young man's resentment, he said indifferently, "Hirota? Yamashita? Horihira? Whatever."
They were all just a bunch of idiots anyway.
"You still haven't told me your name." Ranpo looked at Dazai, who had been expressionless since the yellow-haired young man arrived.
"Dazai, Dazai Osamu."
Watching Ranpo and the yellow-haired young man walk away, Dazai's eyes deepened: "Another Sheep, huh..."
High-dimensional world.
At 8 AM, Byte started his live stream on time. People who had been waiting for a long time poured into the live room, flooding it with various bullet comments.
"Good morning." Byte cheered up and greeted the camera.
["Immortal Cultivation Party" says they stayed up until now, waiting to see the face-slapping.]
[It's not easy for night owl Byte to wake up early for once.]
[Wait, isn't Byte at home now?]
[Is this outdoors?] Noticing that the background behind Byte was different from usual, fans sent bullet comments asking their questions.
"You found it, huh? I even deliberately zoomed in the camera, thinking of giving you a surprise." Seeing that the audience had discovered him, Byte no longer hid it and pulled back the live stream's perspective, allowing the audience to clearly see his location.
[Did he take a night train to the seaside?]
[Didn't he say he was streaming a VR game? Why is the streamer at the seaside?]
[I recognize it! Isn't this the harbor in Yokohama from 'bungo stray dogs'?]
[I recognize it too! Those five black pillars behind are the Port Mafia's buildings, right?]
[Could this be a Virtual simulation?]