Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era (Bungo Stray Dogs 2)

Nihil admirari—help the man mentioned above without hesitation in the face of any and all trials.

Ougai

“This should be of some help if you need assistance from one of our own. Take it with you.”

I accepted the slip of paper from him. It’s a delegation of authority, so to speak. Within the Mafia, this document is known as a “Silver Oracle,” and whoever possesses it is granted authority equal to that of the boss himself. Show it to anyone who ranks below the five executives and give them orders, and they cannot

decline. Declining is tantamount to betraying the Mafia, which is punishable by death. Holding such a legendary document in my hands almost didn’t even feel real.

“You can even order the executives around with that.” The boss grinned. “Come to think of it, you’re close friends with the executive Dazai, yes? A friendship that surpasses the bounds of hierarchy… He’s a man of quality. Feel free to count on him if you need anything.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I answered truthfully.

“Are you sure? He isn’t the youngest executive in history for nothing. His peers may treat him like he’s a heretic, but I believe Dazai’s capabilities are astounding. I’m sure in four or five years, he’ll have killed me and taken my place.”

The boss’s lips curled devilishly.

Although I didn’t even so much as blink, I was seriously rattled. I searched the boss’s face, but that almost childlike smirk made him impossible to read. Was this his way of joking?

“I hope to hear some good news from you.”

The boss returned the quill to its stand, and I gave him one last bow before heading for the door. The whole exchange left me oddly parched.

Hidden beneath the rapid onslaught of sudden developments was a sensation, albeit faint, in the back of my head telling me something was off. But my image of whatever was causing it was strangely hazy and blurred—like an old birthmark on my back that I couldn’t see.

“Oda.” The boss called out to me from behind right as I placed a hand on the door to leave. “That pistol hanging under your shoulder—that’s a nice model.”

I looked down at my gun. Inside the holster under my jacket was an old black pistol.

“It’s just an antique I keep around because I’m used to using it. But I’m honored.”

“I only ask you this out of slight curiosity, but rumor has it you’ve never killed anyone with it.”

I nodded. Lying wasn’t going to do me any good. “That’s right.”

“And why is that?”

I needed a few seconds to catch my breath before replying.

“Are you ordering me as the leader of this organization?” I asked.

“No, I merely ask out of personal interest.”

“Then I prefer not to answer.”

For a brief second, the boss’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. Then he crossed his arms and smiled like a teacher fed up with a poor student.

“I see. Then you may go. I anticipate good news from you.”

Meanwhile, Dazai was over at the port. After walking along the seaside for some time, he found himself in the warehouse district surrounded by a planted forest. There were lines of small ships with their registration numbers scraped off, various stolen cars of international makes, and large chromatographs for manufacturing explosives. Not only did the nearby residents stay away, but even the city police avoided going there without a good reason. The area was run by underground organizations such as the Port Mafia—a death trap, to put it another way. Three bodies had washed up on the coast that morning.

“Make sure the police don’t hear about this. Also, call the cleaner. We need to get these bodies out of here.”

Men in black suits—Port Mafia grunts—silently worked at the site where the bodies were found. These city lowlifes simply gritted their teeth and did as they were ordered. There were two reasons for this: One, these were the bodies of their colleagues—fellow mafiosi. The other reason was that one of the execs was expected to arrive on-site any minute due to the gravity of the situation.

“Look into whether any of these men had families. If they do…” The mafia member in command stopped midsentence and paused for a moment. “…I’ll explain things.”

The man in charge was a senior Port Mafia member with white hair and a cigar. He had a gentlemanly air, sporting a well-starched black overcoat and a suit. This was Ryuurou Hirotsu—one of the oldest members of the Mafia.