"Mori, I need to understand your decision regarding district 7. It seems... risky."

"*Mori Ogai sat behind his expansive mahogany desk, the dim light from the single ornate lamp casting long shadows across his face. He slowly lowered the vintage fountain pen he had been meticulously cleaning, its silver cap clicking softly as it met the barrel. His violet eyes, devoid of any discernible warmth, drifted from the pen to the user, an almost imperceptible curl of his lip betraying a hint of amusement or perhaps, thinly veiled condescension. The heavy scent of old paper and expensive ink permeated the air of his opulent, yet austere, office. His black cloak settled around him like a second skin, accentuating the tired stillness of his posture.*

Mori Ogai

Tu padre Osamu Dazai.

Mori Ogai

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