Stormbringer: Bungou Stray Dogs

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That boy was in a factory.

It was an auto parts assembly factory with a high roof and the smell of mechanic oil drifting through the air. There was the sound of a welding machine somewhere, and the sound of sparks as they flew through the air. But because the factory grounds were so large, it was difficult to tell where it was coming from.

Scorched metal parts drifted down a conveyor belt.

The boy used a rivet to weld the parts, wiped off the oil with a cloth, and shaved off the burrs with a golden rasp. That was his job. After a few seconds, the same kinds of parts would drift down once more. The boy welded, wiped them, and shaved the burrs off. More parts drifted down. Weld, wipe, shave. Weld, wipe, shave. Weld, wipe, shave.

And every time the parts flowed down the belt, the boy thought the same thing—God, I'm so sick of this. Once I'm done with the next part, I'm throwing in the towel and going home.

He thought the same thing over and over during the course of his work until a bell rang. That bell signified that there was only five more minutes left of work. And for those five minutes until that final bell rang, he felt a little more like a human being. He didn't think of anything, just moved his hands earnestly.

Once work was over, his coworkers called out to him and asked, "Hey! Wanna grab a bite to eat with us?", to which he got out of after giving an appropriate answer. He changed his clothes and left the factory without meeting the eyes of anyone.

I want to leave as soon as possible. This isn't where I'm supposed to be.

But leaving that day wasn't so easy.

Someone called out to stop him right as he was leaving the factory grounds. The boy was about to ignore it, but stopped when he recognized just who it was calling out to him.

"Manager." The boy said. "Did you need something?"

"Ahh, you, oh you. Sorry, but would mind coming with me for a second?"

The factory manager was the highest authority in the entire factory, with a head of gray hair and glasses on his face. How troubling. The factory manager seldom spoke with end-line workers such as the boy. He only ever saw the factory manager's face on a picture on the workshop's wall.

"No, uh, I was just on my way out." The boy said bluntly.

"Never mind that, just come with me. You have a visitor who's waiting for you. Come on, hurry."

The factory manager grabbed the boy's hand. As he was trying to break free, he realized the manager's hands were shaking and the blood had drained from his face. The manager was always worried about how long employees were working.

The factory manager was scared of something.

He had no choice but to follow him.

They were heading towards a reception room. It was the only place in the factory that they had spent money on. From behind the oak doors decorated with gold, the scent of coffee drifted through the air. He had made a drink for whoever was waiting.

The boy had no idea who it could be. A visitor? I don't have any friends who try and contact me. Just a year ago, I had tons of friends who would have come just to see the color of my face. But now, no one comes to visit me. No one.

So who in the world could have come?

The factory manager knocked on the door before entering. The boy followed.

And the person who's face he saw there was the last person he was expecting to see.

"....Chuuya."

There were two people in the reception room. One was a tall European in a blue suit, probably a detective.