"The Dragon War. The previous Boss. The scalpel."
The first term was seared into the memory of every citizen of Yokohama—a brutal conflict in which numerous criminal syndicates across the city tore each other apart, vying for the throne of Yokohama's underworld.
The second referred to a figure well known among any seasoned member of the mafia: the "Mad King," whose actions during the Dragon War nearly brought the Port Mafia to ruin.
As for the last term—"the scalpel"—it seemed meaningless to most. Its true significance wasn't something just anyone would know.
"Do I really have to spell it out?" Tokisaki Kurumi asked, her voice laced with gentle reproach. "I thought we might share at least a little unspoken understanding—the kind where you see through it yet choose not to say it aloud."
"I'm afraid I don't have any such 'understanding' with someone I've just met," Mori Ōgai replied bluntly.
"How cold," Kurumi said with a soft laugh, entirely unfazed. "During the Dragon War, you—against the wishes of the previous Boss—assassinated him with a scalpel and forged his will to seize leadership of the Port Mafia."
Ten years ago, during the chaos of the Dragon War, the former Boss of the Port Mafia had relentlessly launched territorial wars in his hunger for expansion, draining the organization's strength without restraint and plunging all of Yokohama into suffering and despair.
For the sake of the organization's survival—and the city's stability—Mori Ōgai, then serving as the Boss's personal physician, killed him during a routine medical treatment and forged a will naming himself as successor, thereby ascending as the new Boss of the Port Mafia.
And the instrument of that regicide? A surgeon's scalpel—meant for healing, not killing.
This secret was known to only a handful within the Port Mafia. In truth, only two people.
...Or should have been known to only two people.
At that moment, even the practiced smile on Mori Ōgai's face vanished completely.
He stared coldly at the girl before him, scrutinizing every flicker of expression, every subtle movement, searching for a clue to her intentions.
Was she bluffing? Afraid? Nervous?
If he could read those emotions—if he could detect even a trace of fear or uncertainty—the negotiation ahead would be far easier to control.
But to his frustration, none of those feelings appeared on her face.
Instead, what he saw was calm—calm rooted in absolute confidence.
As if she knew, beyond doubt, that he couldn't do a thing to stop her.
And in truth… he couldn't.
Tokisaki Kurumi was a Spirit who commanded time itself. While her raw combat prowess wasn't exceptional—and given insufficient time, she might even lose to Elise, his ability's manifestation—it was impossible to capture her.
Even if she couldn't stand toe-to-toe against the full might of the Port Mafia, escaping cleanly posed no challenge at all.
After all, Kurumi was a Spirit who excelled at running away.
Both her shadow—capable of appearing anywhere for stealthy infiltration—and her First Bullet, which accelerated time to create the illusion of instantaneous movement, granted Tokisaki Kurumi the perfect means to slip into the lion's den at will and withdraw just as effortlessly.
Even if this meeting with Mori Ōgai took a disastrous turn, she was confident she could escape completely unscathed.
That was precisely why she dared to walk alone into the heart of the Port Mafia headquarters.
"How did you learn about this?" Mori Ōgai asked, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his chair. "Could it be… that Dazai told you?"
Dazai Osamu, who was just mentioned, was the former head of the Port Mafia's Intelligence Division and the youngest executive in the organization's history.
He had also been Mori Ōgai's most trusted right hand, the man upon whom he'd pinned his greatest hopes. Many within the organization had even believed Dazai would succeed Mori Ōgai as the next Boss.
Yet one day, this heir apparent defected.
Not only did he betray the Port Mafia—he joined their sworn enemy: the Armed Detective Agency.
Had it been anyone else, Mori Ōgai would have dispatched assassins to execute the traitor without hesitation. But Dazai's position was too delicate; the cost of killing him was simply too high for the Port Mafia to shoulder.
Thus, Dazai remained the only traitor in Port Mafia history who not only survived but thrived—living openly under their very noses, enjoying a comfortable second life.
And yet… Dazai Osamu was undeniably the only other person who knew the truth about Mori Ōgai's assassination of the previous Boss.
That day.
That room.
Those blood-splattered walls.
And the one man standing beside him—Dazai Osamu.
No one else could possibly have witnessed it.
If a third party now knew the secret, there was only one explanation:
Dazai spilled the tea.
"No," Tokisaki Kurumi said calmly, dispelling Mori Ōgai's suspicion. "I didn't learn this secret because Dazai told me. My ability revealed it to me."
"Your ability?"
"Precisely—one of them, at least."
With a graceful flick of her wrist, a short flintlock pistol materialized in Kurumi's hand.
Elise immediately shifted into a combat stance, but Mori Ōgai raised a hand, signaling her to stand down.
Kurumi wielded two flintlock pistols—manifestations of her Angel Zafkiel, formed from the hour and minute hands of a clock. The longer pistol, representing the minute hand, served as her primary weapon for attack. The shorter one, shaped from the hour hand, was used to activate Zafkiel's twelve distinct abilities.
Among them, the Tenth Bullet allowed her to transmit the past memories of whatever she struck.
Casually twirling the ornate, antique firearm in her fingers, Kurumi explained succinctly:
"This ability—transmitting the past memories of a target—is one of my powers. You can think of it as a form of memory reading. By shooting a person or an object, I can access their memories of the past."
"I see," Mori Ōgai said, reluctantly accepting her explanation. He let out a quiet sigh, tinged with resignation. "Even with every precaution in place… a mistake still slipped through. Truly, the world is full of far too many unpredictable variables."
Tokisaki Kurumi hadn't lied about her ability—the Tenth Bullet truly could read memories.
But the real reason she knew Mori Ōgai's deepest secret had nothing to do with that power.
She was a transmigrator—a traveler from another world. She had also watched Bungo Stray Dogs before. By all accounts, she held an advantage in information.
But of course, she could never reveal that truth to anyone.
Not only would Mori Ōgai likely dismiss it as nonsense—but if, by some chance, he actually believed her, Side Quest III would fail instantly.
So, using the Tenth Bullet as an excuse was by far the safest and most plausible cover.
"Well then," Mori Ōgai said, his momentary frustration already replaced by cool composure, "since you've barged into the Port Mafia headquarters armed with my darkest secret, I assume this isn't just a casual social visit."
He'd briefly allowed himself a flicker of dismay—but only for an instant. Now, his mind was sharp, analytical, and utterly in control.
He'd done everything possible to bury that secret. If it had still leaked, the fault no longer lay with him.
"Please rest assured, Mr. Mori," Kurumi replied with disarming warmth. "I come with no hostility whatsoever. In fact… I'd say I'm here with goodwill."
"To be honest," Mori Ōgai said, his violet eyes fixed unblinkingly on her, "I don't care whether your intentions are 'good' or 'evil.'"
He studied her as if trying to discern the very color of her soul.
"What matters to me," he continued, voice low and deliberate, "is your purpose.
So, tell me, Miss Stranger—what's your business here?"