I'm Really a Good Person

On the seventh day of my writer's block, a group of men in black suits stormed into my room.

They said they were local gangsters and had come to interrogate me about my connection to the strange disappearance of my neighbor.

My hands were bound behind my back, and the coarse rope chafed painfully, but I didn't really care, because...

"Three days?" I looked at them in confusion. "But she died seven days ago."

That's right. Seven days ago, my neighbor died in her own home. Her throat had been slit, and her eyes were wide open. Blood poured from her throat, gurgling and gurgling, like countless frogs croaking noisily in the pouring rain.

That day, my inspiration had run dry.

And now... Fukami watched as a young man in a black suit walked into the cramped apartment, backlit. He had soft, short hair and brown eyes, bandages wrapped around him, and a reputation that made people fear him.

He strolled over nonchalantly, looking down at the person awkwardly craning their neck to face him. A charming smile spread across his face.

That day, Fukami's inspiration gushed forth like a spring.

Notes:

1. Written in third person. Mystery and deduction, but not a traditional detective novel.

2. CP is Dazai Osamu. No other pairings apart from official ones.

3. I have a day job, and due to the nature of the mystery, I need to finish a story and fix its plot holes before posting it, so updates may be irregular.

4. I've adjusted the power levels to avoid deus ex machina. If anything in the plot is unclear or has a bug, please let me know. Thank you!

Theme: People can interrogate purity until it confesses to guilt, and they can also interrogate guilt until it confesses to purity. The most precious thing about humanity is its courage to defy fate and its willingness to sacrifice its life.