♱ | 𝐻𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓀 | BSD OC

4◆

Act

________________________________________

'
生 が
き 罪
る の
こ 根
と 源
自
体 で
___す。 '

Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

'Living itself is the source of sin.'
_

______________________________________

♥︎Sleepwalker- akiaura
︎

The eyes became glassy, the clock was ticking and the gears were moving. It was too late, time was rushing inexorably. If only time would stop now. Tick Tock. Another second passes. A bitter tear rolls down cheek, not of sadness or anger, but of pure hatred and helplessness. Hand is shaking and clenching. An invisible bullet gets stuck in the throat. It's the price; the price for her freedom. And that voice, tempting as the devil himself, saying in your ear: Give yourself over to yourself. What should she do? Who is to be listened to? Herself or him. What? What should she do when so many different people's opinions attack her at once? She hesitated, then listened. The voices grew louder again. She breaks free, she does it. The purple-eyed devil didn't even have to say anything else. All it took was a tiny nudge towards the darkness it came from. Mind damaged, mind torn.
Three shots were fired.

She died in her sin.

'Please, hate me'

Mask said looking at them....

_________________________________________

A soft sigh came from under the white mask.

Viera slid down the alley, nervously snapping her fingers. Annoying. She thought, thinking about her task. She had been watching this young man since the morning and was terribly bored. It's like watching a cat wander aimlessly here and there. He has never been anywhere in particular or done anything that could be considered suspicious. She wasn't expecting anything, but still...
Dazai left the Agency at noon, which in itself was strange, just strange; who leaves work in the middle of the day? And then he went out, it seemed pointless. Finding him in the agency was obvious, but the fact that this man was simply lazy was less important. Mask leaned against the wall, thinking of him as someone who had managed to survive Fyodor's plan. She already had her guesses, but she still felt a bit surprised. She ignored it, however, quickly returning to looking at the man currently sitting at the small coffee table, reading a book. Coffee with milk without sugar. A very peculiar book "The Complete Suicide (完全自殺読本)". She didn't care, she had to find a way to find the information faster. It will take too long if she follows him around all day. But she had no other idea. On the Internet, documents, notes, anything where there could be a mention of this man. It just looked like it didn't exist and the information sent from Fyodor was just basic. Just like that, an ordinary person. However, Mask knew that such things did not exist, he could not have survived the crap during that attack on Yokohama. There are also some shortcomings in his biography.
She put her bag on the ground, pulling out her phone. Opened the flap, clicking the buttons hard. Touched the wall with her shoulder, tilting hip to the side. Mask lowered her head down, clearing her vision to the small screen. Should she write to Fyodor about this? It didn't sound like a good idea, especially since the mission was at a standstill.

City screamed in the distance.
The sky was beautiful today. Feathery clouds and the bright light of the warm sun. Pleasantly. A sharp cold chill was still felt, but only when there was a breeze. Sun was warming slightly, reflecting onto the roofs and shop windows. Still, she felt cold. Cold arms, hends; cold legs. Not that she didn't like a little lower temperature. As she stopped there, staring steadily at the screen, thought of something. There was nothing special, just a few thoughts. It's a bit like a trance, suspension in time. Soft whispers can be heard and the sounds of the city fade away as if it didn't exist. Something...