043

A/N: I thought I will forever be into Asians but Fyodor's dub caused me to be into Russians 💀

It was damn sudden too. I swear, I didn't like his Russian accent THIS much the first time I heard it. (It actually turned me off in the beginning, the hell happened?)

Btw, school's gonna make me update slower. A chapter can still be expected to be published within 3 days even when I'm busy. If not, a chapter (or more) a day as usual.

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The morning you were summoned to Mori’s office, the sky was overcast, pressed flat and pale like a migraine behind the clouds.

The Port Mafia headquarters was unusually still, and even the underlings you passed in the hallway had the sense to make themselves small, to not meet your eyes.

You didn’t blame them. After all, the last time someone tried and acted arrogantly, they ended up forgetting how to blink.

The doors to Mori’s office loomed tall and soundless. You didn’t knock.

You opened them like you owned the place.

Mori was seated as always, precise and picturesque in his perfectly tailored suit.

Elise perched beside him on the wide chaise like an ornamental bird, distractedly playing with the ribbons on her dress.

“Ah,” Mori said, voice warm as poisoned wine. “L/N-kun. You’re prompt. How rare.”

You gave him a lazy, insincere bow. “I had a feeling today would be interesting.”

“It is,” Mori said. “Though that depends on your definition.”

Elise looked up briefly. Her eyes furrowed with something almost like annoyance before she returned to plucking at the fabric like it owed her money.

Mori gestured toward the chair across from him. “Sit. We have a lot to talk about.”

You sat, crossing one leg over the other, arms draped casually over the armrests. “I’m all ears, Mori-san.”

He smiled. It was always a delicate dance, the power game between you two. But he knew better than to reprimand you. Fear never did like drawing attention to itself.

After a moment, he slid a file across the desk.

You didn’t reach for it.

You waited.

He continued, “This mission... is somewhat different.”

“Oh?”

“It’s overseas. Long term. Might take months. Possibly years.”

At that, you blinked. Then smiled slowly.

“Ah. I see,” you said, voice touched with mirth. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”

Mori clasped his hands, resting them under his chin. “You wound me.”

You leaned forward, finally taking the file and flipping it open with one hand.

The first page was redacted in all the right places.

High profile assassinations. Political sabotage. Recovery of an artifact currently in the hands of a European underground syndicate.

The kind of mission that required someone disposable— if not for the fact you were anything but.

“Charming,” you murmured, flipping through. “Let me guess. I’m the only one insane enough to do it and not die within a week.”

“Exactly,” Mori said without missing a beat. “Though I prefer the term ‘uniquely qualified.’”

You closed the folder.

“So,” you said. “A vacation. With body count included.”

Mori offered you a deliberately mournful look, hands steepled. “It grieves me to part with you, even temporarily. Think of this as... a father sending his child off to study abroad.”

You burst into laughter.

“Elise,” you said, wiping a nonexistent tear. “Tell your husband to stop acting like he’s about to cry. It’s unseemly.”

Elise turned to look at you with disgust, clearly displeased at your mention Mori being her husband. “Cut it out before I shove my crayons down your throat!”

You chuckled, then turned to Mori.

“You'll miss me, right?” you asked. “After all, who else can makes you sweat in your own office?”

Mori’s smile twitched at the corners. Just enough.

“Don’t mistake caution for fear,” he said lightly.

“Don’t mistake a joke for reassurance,” you replied, matching his tone.

The silence after that was not empty. It was ripe.

Then, softly, Mori said, “I trust you’ll find it refreshing. A new environment. New... puzzles to solve.”

You stood, sliding the folder back across the desk.

“I’ll leave tonight.”

He blinked. “No objections?”

You gave him a look.

“Why would I object? You’re giving me a playground and calling it exile. That’s a reward, not a punishment.”

Mori watched you, something unreadable behind his eyes.

You added, “But do me a favor. Try not to replace me while I’m gone. Elise would throw a tantrum.”

Elise snapped. “No I would not! Don't flatter yourself.”

“And Dazai would probably lose his mind,” you added with a grin. “But we both know that’s inevitable anyway.”

Mori didn’t respond.

Instead, he rose from his chair and walked around the desk. The movement was slow, deliberate.

He came to a stop in front of you and, without warning, placed both hands on your shoulders.

You tilted your head slightly, amused.

“You’re really leaning into this ‘parting father’ act, aren’t you?”

He smiled tightly.

“Only because I have no sons to disappoint me.”

“Ouch,” you said. “That felt personal.”

“It was,” Mori smiled, blank and devoid of emotions.

The two of you stood like that for a moment longer, the room balanced on a knife’s edge.

Then he released you.

“Good luck,” he said. “And do come back in one piece.”

You stepped back toward the door, lifting your hand in a lazy wave.

“I’m nothing if not put together.”

As you left the room, the door clicked shut behind you. And still, you could feel his eyes lingering.

Mori was terrified.

But he was also smart enough to send the devil far away before it got bored.

You, meanwhile, began to hum as you walked down the corridor, already thinking of which coat to pack.

After all, what was exile, if not a stage?

And what was distance, if not an invitation?

“He's sent on a mission.”

“…Mission?” Dazai echoed, slowly.

“What mission?”