"Sigh… He didn't come after all..."
On the quiet sea, Oscar Wilde sat in an open-air lounge chair with one leg crossed over the other.
The ocean breeze stirred the black fur draped over his shoulders, its glossy softness accentuating his elegant figure.
As his foot swayed gently in time with the waves, the pointed red heel traced a languid arc through the air.
Beneath the pale blue suit trousers, a glimpse of black stockings revealed just enough skin to invite the imagination. One could easily believe that, without them, his legs might outshine those of many supermodels.
His beauty was never confined by what he wore.
It was grand, radiant, and full of life.
Even dressed in the feminine fashions he so adored, there was nothing coquettish or affected about him. He remained, above all else, Britain's famed Transcendent—Oscar Wilde, a man whose devotion to aesthetics ran to the very core of his being.
"Mr. Wilde, your juice."
The British intelligence officer assigned as Wilde's companion for the evening calmly served him his drink.
A cigar rested lightly between Oscar Wilde's fingers.
He made no move to smoke it. Instead, he held it beneath his nose, savoring its aroma as if judging what made such an expensive cigar worthy of its reputation.
"Your outfit is terribly unattractive."
With that single remark, he wiped the composure from his companion's face.
He truly had a razor-sharp tongue.
His companion drew herself up, pulling in her waist and lifting her chin so the black evening gown—rented with government funds—would look as flattering as possible. Maintaining an elegant smile, she replied, "This is the latest runway design from a top London fashion house."
"What is fashion?" Oscar Wilde scoffed with complete conviction. "Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months."
His companion looked at his bizarre attire with a cool, indifferent gaze. Being powerful doesn't make your outfit any better. Sorry, but I still dress better than you!
With a sigh, Oscar Wilde said, "That's why you don't understand me."
Taking a deep breath, she forced another polite smile. "Mr. Wilde, I know you're not particularly impressed with my appearance, but as the government official assigned to accompany and supervise you during your travels, I was carefully selected for this role. You're British, at least show a little gentlemanly grace."
Oscar Wilde tossed aside the cigar, pulled his fur coat tighter around himself, and wrapped it around his lonely heart.
"Why didn't they assign me a male companion instead?"
A male companion?
Any man who met your standards would refuse to let you freeload off him during missions. Don't you already realize that?
Her smile became even more strained.
The conversation lapsed into silence before she changed the subject.
"Mr. Wilde, are you really going to keep waiting?"
"Why not?"
"He isn't coming."
"Because of his family? What a boring reason. Still, beauty has its privileges. His rejection, his pride—they're all part of his charm. I enjoy waiting for an impossible possibility."
Oscar Wilde's blond hair was no longer as impeccably styled as it had been during the banquet. Loose, tousled strands framed his striking features, lending them an effortless sensuality. His lips were a rich, inviting shade, like ripe summer fruit.
His lips parted slightly, and he uttered the words that gave the British government endless headaches.
"I will always show unconditional leniency to beautiful people."
"..."
That was precisely why, whenever Oscar Wilde traveled abroad, the British government insisted on assigning intelligence agents to keep a close eye on him.
No matter how much his companion's stomach ached from dealing with him, she couldn't help envying beautiful people. Beauty came with privileges—especially in front of Oscar Wilde. In his eyes, anyone beautiful deserved to be held in his arms and cherished.
"By the way, what's his name?" Oscar Wilde asked casually, his eyes still closed as he rested.
"Asou Akiya," his companion answered after checking the signature on the guest list.
"Oh..." Oscar Wilde rolled the name over his tongue. "Akiya..."
Long ago, he seemed to have met someone like that in a dream—a beauty with black hair and black eyes. There was something irresistibly alluring about that distinctly Asian elegance, like an exotic flower. It had pierced his heart with its thorns, and even after they were pulled free, they left behind a faint, aggrieved ache. When he awoke, all he could remember was a beautiful person who had been both gentle... and heartlessly distant.
The thought stirred something within him.
He suddenly wanted to paint.
He wanted to use Asou Akiya as his model and recreate the figure from that long-faded dream whose features he could no longer remember.
Stretching lazily, Oscar Wilde smiled to himself.
"It's been a long time since I've felt the urge to paint."
His companion shuddered.
Oscar Wilde was not an offensive-type ability user, but that did not make him any less dangerous. His ability, "Portrait", was regarded as one of the highest-order abilities in the world.
On the battlefield, the ones who appeared were almost always the figures he had painted.
The nations of the world kept the appearances of ability users classified in part to guard against this man's gift. No one knew what fate awaited the subjects of the portraits painted by his hand.
After all, he had never harmed a beautiful person... had he?
The next second, however, Oscar Wilde, who had been on the verge of becoming an artist again, sat back down.
"On second thought, I'd rather be lazy. Painting is as troublesome as Shakespeare's novels and plays."
His companion fell silent.
To some extent, Oscar Wilde still suffered from postwar trauma.
During the Great War, he had painted so relentlessly for the government that his hands had nearly given out. Now, the mere sight of an oil painting made him feel sick.
Beauty… Is better left in the heart.
The moment it was painted, it was all too easy for it to lose its perfection.
...
Back at the seaside hotel, Asou Akiya and Fukuzawa Yukichi had returned.
Instead of going to see Randou immediately, Akiya frowned at the pink diamond brooch resting inside its box.
Pink diamonds were the kings of colored diamonds, setting new auction records year after year. Even a brooch set with a pink diamond of merely average quality was worth a fortune. In other words, Oscar Wilde had casually thrown away hundreds of thousands of pounds.
"Fukuzawa-san, could I trouble you to hold onto this for me?"
"May I refuse?"
Fukuzawa Yukichi remained as stern as ever. He had no desire to safeguard a piece of jewelry with such a… special significance.
Asou Akiya had wanted to refuse the gift, but the auction staff informed him that if he did, they would simply throw it into the sea. Mr. Wilde did not accept returned gifts.
No matter how wealthy he was, Akiya simply couldn't stand by and watch hundreds of thousands of pounds sink into the ocean.
Simply put, frugality was a virtue.
The best solution was to find an opportunity to repay him with a piece of jewelry of equal value while also ensuring Wilde lost interest in him. The less attention he attracted, the lower the chance of Arthur Rimbaud's identity being exposed.
Oscar Wilde's ability was most likely named after one of his most famous works: The Picture of Dorian Gray, De Profundis, The Nightingale and the Rose, or Salome. Regardless of which work it was based on, given Wilde's obsessive pursuit of beauty, any ability born from the reflection of his inner world would undoubtedly be extraordinary.
Asou Akiya's gaze unfocused as he sank into thought. Fukuzawa Yukichi watched him intently, growing increasingly curious whether Akiya's so-called "High-Dimensional Observer" ability was real or not. After listening to Ranpo endlessly praise his guardian, even Fukuzawa found himself beginning to doubt his own judgment.
After all, Wilde was merely a wealthy British man Akiya had met once.
"...A beauty," Akiya murmured suddenly. "I need to find him another beauty to distract him."
Fukuzawa Yukichi: "???"
Lowering his head, Akiya looked at the pink diamond brooch in his hand and pried the pink diamond from its setting.
The brooch itself didn't matter.
Its design wasn't to his taste.
He picked up the phone and called one of his students, planning to make use of the young man's connections.
"Help me investigate a British man."
It was afternoon in Tokyo, Japan. Shibusawa Tatsuhiko had his phone on speaker while sketching a design with a pencil. Hearing his teacher's voice, he asked,
"Is he an ability user?"
Asou Akiya replied, "There's a good chance he's an ability user, though he could also be an ordinary person."
The name of the person who might divert Wilde's attention was—
"Alfred Douglas."
The "Bosie" of the real world—the man Oscar Wilde had loved so deeply. Akiya had heard that Douglas was talented in his own right and had published works of his own, though he was nowhere near as famous as Wilde. Now that Akiya had come to this world and met a Wilde who seemed to embody love and beauty itself, he couldn't help but want to meet Douglas as well. Just how beautiful must someone be to utterly captivate Oscar Wilde?
Of course, he also knew that relationships from the real world could easily become "reversed" in the world of Bungo Stray Dogs.
Just as Randou and Verlaine, or Dazai and Akutagawa—their relationships had all been turned on their heads. Randou should have been the one to mercilessly abandon Verlaine, and Dazai ought to have been Akutagawa's devoted admirer, yet in this world's setting, everything was reversed.
So perhaps—
Douglas had become the one pursuing Wilde?
Asou Akiya covered his cheek, unable to suppress a tiny, mischievous desire to watch the drama unfold.
Wonderful, it would be Britain's biggest spectacle of the year!
Having settled on a solution, Akiya cheerfully went to see Randou. After spending the evening chatting with Americans and Britons, the moment he opened his mouth, an unbearably sweet term of endearment slipped out.
"Sweetheart, I'm home!"
A pillow flew straight at his face.
"So cheesy."
"Haha—I think so too. But you're the only one I want to say it to, Randou!"
A term of endearment that intimate belonged only to the one he loved. It was the perfect excuse for playful teasing at night.
As for the card?
That was the sort of thing that deserved to be thrown into the ocean.
The next morning, the Hawaiian sun was already blazing overhead by the time Asou Akiya and Randou finally woke from their lie-in.
When they went to meet up with Fukuzawa Yukichi and the others, they were greeted by what could only be described as a "special forces training course."
True to his playful nature, Kudo Yusaku had arranged all sorts of equipment to entertain and train his son and the invited guests.
After practicing with a handgun for a short while, Edogawa Ranpo's hands were sore from the recoil. He promptly tossed it aside and moved on to the next activity instead.
Nakahara Chuuya, on the other hand, had completely fallen in love with firearms.
Kudo Shinichi spent the entire time glued to Ranpo's side like a little shadow.
"Ranpo-nii, you're amazing!"
"Ranpo-nii, let's fly the helicopter! And drive the yacht!"
"Ranpo-nii! Ranpo-nii!"
The endlessly chattering little boy had taught Edogawa Ranpo the art of tuning people out. For the first time, he understood how everyone else must have felt whenever he was the noisy one.
Hmph. The Great Detective Ranpo won't stoop to arguing with a little kid!
Nearby, Fukuzawa Yukichi watched Ranpo's every move with nervous vigilance, afraid the boy might accidentally hurt himself.
He wasn't worried about Chuuya.
With his gravity ability, Chuuya could defend himself against the vast majority of physical attacks.
Watching Fukuzawa Yukichi dutifully play the role of a protective guardian, Kudo Yusaku nodded to himself.
With Fukuzawa keeping such a close eye on Ranpo, Yusaku no longer needed to divide his attention. Instead, he noticed that one of the children—a little girl who had come with Ranpo—wasn't joining in the activities. She sat beneath the shade of a canopy, hugging her knees as she quietly watched everyone else.
Before Yusaku could approach her, his lively wife, Kudo Yukiko, had already walked over with a smile.
"Akiko, aren't you going to come play with everyone?"
Yosano Akiko's face was no bigger than a palm. Small and delicate, she looked gentle and fragile.
"It's not interesting."
She answered blankly.
As a former battlefield medic, guns, helicopters, and yachts left her utterly unmoved. She had seen far too much in her life to be fascinated by toys like these.
Yukiko blinked in confusion.
Girls don't like these things?
"Akiko!" Edogawa Ranpo waved energetically at her, his forehead glistening with sweat. "Come tell me—what's the difference between piloting a yacht and commanding an aircraft carrier?"
Yosano Akiko stared at him, bewildered.
The difference is enormous.
Still, since Ranpo had asked, she pushed herself to her feet and ran over.
Kudo Yukiko frowned.
"An aircraft carrier?"
A glint of curiosity appeared in Kudo Yusaku's eyes. His detective's instincts kicked in as he took another, closer look at the little girl who nimbly hopped aboard the yacht.
Just then, Asou Akiya and Randou arrived.
Randou knew little about Yosano Akiko and silently looked to Akiya for an explanation.
Akiya confirmed their suspicions.
"Yes. Akiko has been to war."
Kudo Yusaku stared at Akiya in disbelief.
"But... during the war a few years ago, how old could this girl have been?"
Kudo Yukiko felt a chill run through her.
"Japan actually sent children to the battlefield?"
"She possessed exceptional talent as a doctor. She could save countless lives on the battlefield, and she chose of her own accord to serve as a military medic."
Asou Akiya's expression remained calm, without a trace of anger.
War is not a game.
Every adult and every child had the right to decide whether to take up the defense of their country.
"Akiko... took part in the Battle of Tokoyami Island."
"Among the military medics, she was a hero."
Speaking with the detachment of an observer, Akiya recounted that chapter of her past, easing some of their concern. Yet the words sounded strangely at odds with the frail, timid little girl before them.
Suddenly, Kudo Yusaku realized something. His brow furrowed.
"Is Akiko suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder?"
"Yes."
Akiya nodded.
Beside him, Fukuzawa Yukichi's expression darkened.
He had already heard Ranpo's analysis and knew something of what Akiko had experienced on the battlefield. During the Battle of Tokoyami Island, witnessing the mass suicides of countless soldiers had driven her to a complete mental breakdown.
"Chuuya, the yacht's about to leave. Go join them."
Akiya pulled the gun-obsessed Chuuya away from the shooting range.
Nakahara Chuuya took a moment to realize the other three were already about to set off.
"Wait for me!"
He sprinted after them at incredible speed and vaulted aboard the yacht just before it departed.
It wasn't the first time Kudo Yusaku had witnessed Chuuya's explosive athleticism, yet he was no less astonished.
The children in Akiya-san's household are far from ordinary.
"Akiya-san..."
"If you have something to say, just say it. There's no need to stand on ceremony with me. Besides, I should be thanking you for the invitation."
The black-haired young man led the long-haired Frenchman by the hand toward the shade to find a place to sit. Dressed in a shirt and a pair of beach shorts, his ivory-toned skin glowing under the Hawaiian sun, he looked every bit the picture of a carefree vacationer. His smile was warm and effortlessly infectious.
Kudo Yusaku found himself at a loss for words.
Appearances really can be deceiving.
With children as extraordinary as the ones around Akiya, perhaps Akiya himself—and Randou as well—were even more extraordinary.
"Akiya-san, I heard that you're with the Mafia... but somehow, you don't seem like an ordinary mafioso."
"...That's true."
Akiya admitted it frankly. He had no reason to hide it from Kudo Yusaku, who could be trusted to keep a secret.
"Though I do occasionally work for the government. Does that count?"
"..."
"...Excuse me?"
The Kudo couple froze.
Fukuzawa Yukichi whipped around so quickly it was almost audible, staring at Akiya in shock.
He began questioning everything he thought he knew.
"You're a government spy planted inside the Mafia?!"
Akiya wagged a finger, slipped on a pair of sunglasses, and replied with effortless swagger,
"Think bigger, Fukuzawa. You can't go around assuming everything has to do with spies and undercover agents.
I'm a government-employed analyst.
They hire me to solve the problems no one else can.
It's only a side job, though."
Holding Randou's hand, Akiya looked at him with a gentle smile.
"Beyond day, night, and twilight... there's the home we'll return to together through all four seasons."
For Randou's sake, he had worked tirelessly to climb the ranks of the Port Mafia and build connections with people from every walk of life.
For the sake of their family, however, he would go no further.
No war.
No conflict.
He wanted nothing more than to spend these eight years quietly by Randou's side.
"Randou, want me to put on some sunscreen for you? Mr. Fitzgerald recommended it!"
"Sure."
The two men who doted shamelessly on their partners had exchanged gift lists, and, before either of them realized it, their future investment strategies had veered in a very unexpected direction.
There was nothing more wonderful than love.
...
Before their trip to Hawaii came to an end, Oscar Wilde finally received Asou Akiya's "reply."
Akiya had accepted the pink diamond brooch.
In return, he sent Wilde a name and a photograph.
The name was—
"Alfred Douglas".
The moment Oscar Wilde saw the photograph of the breathtakingly beautiful young man, it was as though Cupid's golden arrow had pierced his heart.
He suddenly felt there was every reason to return home and meet this British beauty in person.
"We're heading back!"
"...Yes, Mr. Wilde."
Wildflowers might be fragrant, but it was better to pursue the flowers back home.
At the very least, a fellow Briton was more likely to give you a chance.
The British intelligence officer concluded the mission report with the following summary:
[Mr. Wilde became infatuated with a handsome married Japanese man during his trip to Hawaii. However, after discovering an exceptionally beautiful young Englishman, he decided to return home in pursuit of true love instead. This mission confirms that Mr. Wilde's tastes remain unwavering—he will always fall for someone younger and more beautiful. Recommendation for future assignments: assign a male intelligence officer to accompany Mr. Wilde.]
...
The Wit of Oscar Wilde
"When you love someone, the beneficiary is not the other person, but yourself first. A clear soul certainly contains the courage and strength to face all problems. To know if you are truly enlightened, the question of sex is a touchstone"
— Oscar Wilde.