Dazai turned left and right all the way and returned to Leibo Street, where he settled down again in his "old house".

There are still 42 hours until the show begins.

Dazai thought so, put his head on the pillow, picked up the book that he had thrown on the ground this morning, and covered his face with it.

The next morning, Dazai got up early for a rare occasion. He patted the suit jacket on the ground that he used to cushion his back, but found that it was not clean enough, so he simply threw the clothes there. Then he patted the dust off his body and walked out of Leibo Street.

Dazai walked all the way to the coffee shop where he sat last time, and ordered an Americano from the waitress.

Rarely, he did not make any random requests - it should be said that he had never done this before - but sat down in the same seat as last time without saying a word.

In less than ten minutes, his coffee was served.

The young man with iris eyes smiled and thanked the waitress. His exquisite appearance made the waitress blush a little. She hurriedly put down her coffee and left.

He blinked, retracted his gaze, picked up the coffee with his bandaged hand, took a sip, and looked out the window.

This is not a very prosperous area in Yokohama, but there are still quite a few people.

It's been a while since I've seen such a lively scene.

The clear iris-colored eyes reflected the bustling crowd outside the glass. The coffee shop was quiet and leisurely, and there were not many customers - after all, it was only morning - it seemed like two different worlds.

"Mind if I sit here?"

The voice that said this was very gentle and lacked confidence, sounding like someone who was not in good health.

"Ah, please sit down." Dazai seemed to have anticipated the arrival of the visitor. He supported his chin with one hand and responded casually, his eyes still looking outside.

"What a beautiful sight, isn't it?" the visitor said with a hint of smile in his voice.

Dazai responded indifferently, and the two of them quietly watched the bustling crowd for a while.

"I thought you wouldn't come." After watching for a while, Dazai seemed to have finally seen enough and turned his gaze to the person who came.

The man in front of me had short hair and a white hat on his head to protect him from the wind and snow. He had a typical Russian look, with very white skin, an unhealthy kind of white, and a pair of purple-red eyes set in a slightly sickly face, with an evil, attractive flavor.

The visitor is Fyodor, the leader of the rats in the dead house.

"How could that be? This is a rare invitation from Dazai." Fyodor smiled lightly, as if the word "harmless" was written on his face.

"Really? That's not like you." Dazai had a fake, sickening smile on his face.

"Oh? Then what kind of person do you think I should be?" The kind-hearted Russian made a curious expression.

"Well, learning about yourself from other people is not a good choice."

"Is that so?" Fyodor smiled generously. "Let's go, Dazai?"

Dazai didn't answer him. He took another sip of the coffee in his hand, then stood up and said with a smile, "Let's go... Feijia?"

Fyodor felt goosebumps all over his body.

——

The corpse is blocked.

A white-skinned man with long white hair stood expressionlessly at the highest point, looking down at Yokohama outside. His blood-red eyes were dark as he was thinking about his target this time.

Dazai Osamu.

The owner of the brilliant supernatural power who should be in his collection room.

However, a week ago he heard that there was a new person named Dazai Osamu here.

Yes, there is one more Dazai Osamu.

The other Dazai Osamu doesn't look like a member of the Armed Detective Agency - but it's not a big problem, Shibuzawa Ryuhiko believes that no one can escape his prediction.

So he generously invited another Dazai Osamu.

Calculating the time...it's almost time.