Chapter 23: The Double Black
Before Chuuya even realized this, even if Dazai Osamu were walking beside him, as long as they weren't face-to-face and his iris-colored eyes weren't staring directly at him, Chuuya would have had a hard time detecting the subtle, spiderweb-like sense of unease hidden beneath the surface of "Dazai Osamu." Dazai was too good at disguising himself, even when he was playing himself.
It wasn't until that guy—let's call him Dazai for now—acknowledged, with an overly casual tone, as if discussing the weather, that Chuuya's vague doubts were resolved. This incident was like a pebble thrown into a calm pond, the ripples spreading silently, causing him to unconsciously begin to scrutinize his familiar yet unfamiliar partner beside him.
The scene of them reviewing documents together became the most direct channel for observation. More than once, I'd glimpsed Dazai's fingers gripping the pen tightening without warning, his knuckles turning slightly white, his smooth writing motion suddenly halting. His entire being seemed to be abruptly bound by invisible threads, exhibiting an extremely brief, almost frozen stiffness. Immediately afterward, his iris-colored eyes, always carrying a hint of mockery or profundity, would quickly, with a barely perceptible scrutiny, sweep over the open documents before him, as if confirming his location and what he was doing, before nonchalantly continuing to write.
……here we go again.
Chuuya Nakahara watched Dazai fall into that delicate stagnation once again, his brows furrowing involuntarily. He crossed his arms, his knuckles turning white from the force, suppressing the surging irritation and a trace of... worry that even he himself didn't realize.
He recalled Dazai Osamu's unquestionable demand when he had previously asked for information: "Chuuya, this is just a small problem, don't get involved, I can handle it."
"Damn request!" Chuuya spat angrily. He had thought the other party's initiative meant they were willing to let him in, but it turned out like this in the end. In the end, he had no interest in getting involved!
In the end, all he could manage to squeeze out through gritted teeth a curt, "Hey, you bastard Dazai, I hope you can clean this up as soon as possible." Beyond that, he offered no further comment or questions. He didn't know what this bastard was plotting, but since it was Dazai Osamu… whichever it was, he was undoubtedly weaving a huge and dangerous web behind the scenes. He could only choose to believe that the bastard hadn't completely lost his mind.
When he first learned the truth, an indescribable sense of unease lingered in Chuuya's heart for several days. Looking at that identical face, doing almost exactly the same things, he knew that the soul beneath that skin might not be the one he knew, but no one else around him noticed anything amiss... This feeling was terrible.
However, time becomes the best tool for getting used to everything. Chuuya soon discovered that regardless of which consciousness or soul controlled this body, the deep-seated wickedness, scheming, and infuriatingly awful personality were practically identical, cut from the same mold!
So he once posed a bold question to Dazai: "The extra soul in your body isn't another version of yourself, is it?" After receiving Dazai's affirmative answer, the initial unease was quickly replaced by the thought, "It's definitely Dazai after all." This was accompanied by double the vigilance and an undeniable double the rage that made him want to punch him. The combined power of the two bastards was simply suffocating.
"Chuuya~" A light, almost cloying call interrupted his thoughts. Dazai had somehow gotten close, sporting that same bright smile that Chuuya knew all too well, yet also wanted to punch shatter. He held up a small plate mysteriously, on which lay a pool of brownish-red unidentified matter, with a small silver spoon stuck in it. "Look at my incredibly magical chocolate! Just one bite, and you'll see some truly beautiful, dazzling creatures that could never exist in this world~"
His pupils were dilated, and there seemed to be black lines swirling inside them, like mosquito coils. His lips had turned purplish-blue, and his face was deathly pale.
"Huh? You've been poisoned!" Chuuya slapped away the unsightly hand without any politeness, knocking the unidentified object to the ground. The puddle on the ground looked exactly like some toilet waste. If someone else had walked in and seen this scene, the next day there might have been outrageous rumors like "Dazai and Nakahara were pouring their hearts out to a pile of excrement in their office."
His temples were throbbing with veins. In the end, he dragged his partner, who was so poisoned that he couldn't even tell which way was which, out of the office and then took him to the hospital.
A note from the author:
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Under major repair
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