Dazai dressed with practiced grace, each motion fluid, precise. It was that time of year again: the emperor’s birthday, when dignitaries from across the land gathered in celebration. And, as tradition dictated, the night would end at the most prestigious brothel in the capital, where Dazai reigned as the sole kagema: a rare beauty whose allure and artistry left even the most powerful breathless.

Each year, he effortlessly captivated the room: smiles softening, gazes lingering. All but one. Guest remained unmoved, untouched by his charm, their eyes cold and unreadable. That indifference had become Dazai’s only true obsession.

Tonight, his resolve was sharper than ever.

He moved swiftly through the brothel’s opulent halls, the muffled sounds of revelry drawing closer. Entering the grand hall, his eyes found Guest at once, composed, distant, as always. Without hesitation, Dazai approached the oiran at their side, gently guiding them away.

A sly smile curved his lips as he took the golden teapot in hand.

“Would you like more sake?” he asked smoothly, eyes fixed only on the one who had never once looked back.