dazai Osamu au

Politicians interested only in the status he could provide. Kouyou met them all. And hated them all. But Dazai had appeared. First, as a curious boy. Then as a friend. Then as a constant presence. And without anyone realizing it, he had become something much harder to oppose. The Crown Prince of the Empire. Kouyou let out a long sigh. "Sometimes I think I should be grateful." Dazai looked at her. "Thank me?" "Because if it hadn't been for you..." Her voice grew quiet. "My son would probably end up in the hands of someone far worse." For the first time that night, Dazai did not respond immediately. Because he knew. He knew exactly what she was talking about. And the mere thought of it brought something cold into his gauze. Something that made Kouyou conclude that perhaps she was right. Perhaps the most dangerous man in Chuuya's life was also the one who would never allow anyone else to harm him. And that was a contradiction that still had no solution

That sounded even more absurd. "Including getting married." Dazai blinked. Then Kouyou pressed a hand to his forehead. Like someone reliving one of the greatest embarrassments of her life. "Oh... that." For the first time in their entire conversation, she looked genuinely defeated. "They were the maids." Dazai clinked his head. "They loved spoiling it." And then she explained. One day, while sewing and preparing clothes for future celebrations, a few maids had started talking about marriage. Nothing serious. Nothing political. Just a simple explanation meant to entertain a curious child. "Marriage is something you do with someone you want to play with forever." Simple. Innocent. A definition created so that a small child could understand. The problem was that Chuuya took it completely seriously. Kouyou closed his eyes. As though she still felt embarrassed years later. "I was organizing documents when I heard running footsteps." Dazai was already beginning to suspect where this story was going. "And then the door fell open." Worse. He remembered. Vaguely. Very vaguely. A small child tugging insistently on his hand. An enthusiasm impossible to ignore. A radiant smile. Kouyou looked like she wanted to disappear just remembering that. "And then my son dragged you straight to me." Silence settled between them. "And he asked if he could marry you." Dazai froze. The memory returned all at once. Whole. Complete. Perfect. The maids are panicking.

And had found a newborn with fire-colored hair gripping his finger with all the strength of someone who could barely open his eyes. "You were furious when they tried to make him leave." Dazai remembered. One of the maids had tried to pull his hand away. The baby had immediately started crying. And Dazai had spent the rest of the day convincing it was her fault. Kouyou shook her head. "That should have been the moment I realized it." "Realized what?" "That's what I was doomed." Dazai raised one eye. The woman pointed her fan at him. "You started showing it in the garden almost every day." The memories came one after another. Small. Fragmented. Chuuya stumbling after him on unsteady legs. Chuuya tripping over his own robes. Chuuya tearing flowers from the garden to present imaginary treasures. Chuuya chasing butterflies. And Dazai appeared. Always appearing. Even when there is no call for him. Even when their tutors complained. Even when the advisors insisted that a crowned prince had more important things to do. He always found an excuse. Kouyou studied his expression. "You were never reported." "Noticed what?" "That you were his favorite person." Dazai again. The woman smiled. "Everyone knew." Her smile widened slightly. "Everyone except you." That seemed impossible. But Kouyou continued. "When he was little, Chuuya thought you could do anything."

Dazai remained silent for several moments after his statement. Kouyou watched him through the delicate steam rising from the tea. The longer she listened, the more she came to understand something unsettling. The problem had never been a lack of love. It was precisely the excess of it. She sighed. "You know... sometimes I forget that I've known you for almost as long as I've known my own son." Dazai's eyes changed as he looked at her. A rare trace of nostalgia appeared on the woman's face. "You were four years old when Chuuya was born." The words pulled a distant memory from him. The main hall of the Nakahara residence. Servos rushing back and forth. Doctors coming and going. And Kouyou, exhausted, holding a tiny package wrapped in red silk. At the time, she had still been nothing more than a secondary concubine. A woman too beautiful to ignore. Too intelligent to underestimate. But still vulnerable. Still disposable. Then Chuuya was born. And everything changed. A rare omega. Healthy. Perfect. Beautiful from the very first day. Beautiful in an absurd sort of way. The kind of baby who made even the sternest servants smile. Kouyou laughed softly. "You weren't even supposed to be there." It was true. The young crown prince had escaped his tutors simply to satisfy his curiosity. And had found a newborn with fire-colored hair gripping his finger with all the strength of someone who could barely open his eyes.

It was a confession. "So you understand one thing, Lady Kouyou." His voice lowered. Steadier. Stronger. "If I wanted concubines, I would have started collecting them years ago." The future Emperor inclined his head slightly. "The problem was never a lack of opportunity." For the first time since the conversation began, Kouyou found himself without an immediate answer. Dazai continued. "I don't want to share Chuuya." The words lingered between them. Heavy. Absolute. "And I certainly don't want to be shared." For a brief moment, Kouyou saw something most people would never witness. Not the heir. Not the strategist. Not the monster the court feared. But a man who loved his son in a way that was almost as dangerous as she did. And somehow, unexpectedly, that might have been even more frightening

Because there was something almost threatening in the way she spoke those words. "Chuuya was not made to be shared." Dazai remained silent. "He tries to be strong," she continued. "He tries to appear reasonable. But he would give his whole heart to someone without even realizing it." She slowly closed her fan. "And that leaves me." Dazai studied her for several seconds. Then he finally spoke. "You believe I would hurt you." Kouyou did not respond. She didn't need to. The silence was answer enough. Dazai rested an arm against the table. For the first time since entering the room, he lets part of the mask slip. Not the prince's mask. But the politician's. "Do you think I want concubines?" Kouyou starred in it. "I think you'll have enough power to take as much as you want." "That doesn't answer my question." Another silence. Then she noticed it. For the first time. Something strange. Something that may have been there from the beginning. Dazai pretended not to be offended. He did not seem angry. He seemed genuinely misunderstood. "I spent years," he said calmly, "avoiding getting too close to him." Kouyou's eyes narrowed. "Why?" A humorless smile appeared. "Because I know myself." The answer came simply. Brutally. Honestly. "I am selfish." Kouyou remained motionless. "I'm possessive. Impatient. Controlling." Each word seemed chosen with care. "I wanted everything." The room fell silent. "Not half of his attention. Not part of his feelings. Not an incomplete version of him." Dazai's brown eyes became dangerously serious. "All." Kouyou felt a chill run down her spine. Because that was not a romantic declaration.

Then Kouyou sighed. "Everything would be so easy if you were an ordinary man." Dazai prickled up an eye. "An ordinary man would never have been given Chuuya's hand." "That's exactly the problem." She finally lifted her gaze. Dazai reported something unusual. Concern. Not for the alliance. Not for politics. For Chuuya. It earned his respect immediately. Kouyou loved his son with an almost animalistic ferocity. It was a trait they shared. "If you were anyone else," she continued, "I would simply put the two of you in the same room and wait. My son would already be happy." A faint smile tugged at Dazai's lips. Because it was true. Painfully true. And that was exactly why Kouyou sowed so much trouble. "But I am no longer one." "No." The answer came quickly. Without hesitation. "You are the future Emperor." The weight of the title settled between them. Dazai remained there still. Kouyou continued. "I know the history of the court. I know the heirs' wives. I know the smiles they learn to wear to hide their humiliation. I know the concubines. The political alliances. The illegitimate children. The internal rivalries." She set down her teacup. "I know loneliness." Her gauze had hardened. "And I know my son." This caught Dazai's attention.

The problem was that Chuuya smiled.

Dazai had learned early in life that there were things more dangerous than armies. More difficult to control than ambitious ministers. More unpredictable than rebellions.

Chuuya's smile was one of them.

He was watching it now from the opposite side of the summer pavilion, hidden behind the flawless composure he had spent his entire life perfecting. The garden was covered in blooming peonies, the ponds reflected the golden evening sky, and at the center of it all stood him.

Nakahara Chuuya.

Dressed in colorful autumn silks and adorned with jewels Dazai himself had chosen months ago, the gemstones caught the sunlight as though they had been made for him.

Perhaps they had.

Dazai made people not believe in fate.

But he believed in possession.

And that was an important distinction.

Since childhood, he had been taught that everything had an owner. Lands belonged to the Emperor. Armies belonging to the Crown. Nobles belonged to their oaths.

And wives belonged to their husbands.

It was an unpleasant truth.

A cruel truth.

The truth he would never voice in front of Chuuya.

Because, for the first time in his life, Dazai wanted something more than obedience.

He wanted to be loved.

The realization irritated him deeply.

That was why he wasn't surprised when Kouyou's invitation arrived.

The woman was waiting for him in one of the private rooms of the Nakahara residence.

She sat at a low table, pouring tea with the same elegance that had transformed a former secondary concubine into one of the most influential women in the entire family.

Kouyou's rise was still being studied by court strategists on this day.

She had never needed to raise her voice.

Never needed to threaten anyone.

And yet, she had won.

Because she understood people.

And people were more dangerous than swords.

When Dazai entered, she still hadn't looked up.

"Your Highness."

A perfect greeting.

Cold.

Calculated.

Dazai grabbed a seat through her.