Chapter 1

This story is a work of fiction and has no relation to any real persons or organizations.

There is a saying, "The customer is god."

It is a precious phrase left by our industrious ancestors, but it's not something I hear much these days. The era when the 'customer' was god is now a thing of the past. As the day ends and I look over the sales slips, I start to wonder what I'm living for.

"…How can they expect me to sell something that costs 100 yen to make for just 100 yen?"

You should be grateful that I'm taking your order.

After a long, condescending lecture, all that's left in my hands is an order form with a rock-bottom price, with no consideration for my livelihood. At least, this 'god' is not a god. Yeah.

Can't you just find cheaper suppliers overseas?

If there's no profit, why don't you use your head and make more rigorous business efforts?

My employees are all working their hearts out to support their families. The moment we accept this so-called 'god's' order, they'll be working for a daily wage of 6,000 yen in forced labor. Of course, this doesn't even consider my own earnings. By the way, factories have to pay a lot for production equipment, and there's this terrifying thing called 'depreciation' that exists, so the company will probably end up operating at a loss.

My company, To-no Seito Co., Ltd., is not in a state of survival crisis. We've already surpassed that level.

"Would it be easier if I died…?"

I always have that thought in the back of my mind.

My father, with a glowing face, handed over the company, which was already on the verge of collapse, to his son, saying, "Revive this company."

By the time my father's generation took over, the company had already been designated as a slave supplier to the 'god' wholesale company.

It's impossible to steer the company's course now.

I sort through the mail that had accumulated in the mailbox and toss it aside. Apart from a town magazine, most of it is bills or advertisements. A postcard falls out, but I don't even feel like picking it up when I see the words 'Chamber of Commerce.' I participated in it hopefully, thinking it might lead to business, but all it brought was drinking and boasting about how bad our company's situation was.

There was a time when the pottery industry in my hometown, Tajimi, was booming. The term 'Ceramic Capital' probably came from that era.

I wish I could have experienced such a time.

It was probably a chaotic, vibrant era like the one in our neighboring country today. If I could time-travel to Tajimi during the Meiji era, my life would be much more interesting.

Leaning my elbow on the desk, I rub my sweat-soaked face and feel a sense of emptiness.

Maybe I'll go home early today. I'll take a bath and wash off the grime.

I'll refresh my mood and think about the future.

That sounds good.

...Just as I was thinking that...

A sharp pain suddenly shot through my chest, and I froze.

What is this pain!

I put my hand on my chest and realize that my heart has stopped beating. The proof of life that always pulsed within me had stopped.

I was well aware of my unhealthy lifestyle. This is probably a heart attack. A classmate died suddenly, and I think it was from this condition.

The pain, which I had never experienced before, and the cold sweat that broke out all over my body.

The rapid loss of body heat. No, I can't die like this. I must have lain on the dirty office floor, thrashing around for who knows how long.

It was too late to think of calling an ambulance on my mobile phone.

All the employees had already gone home. With an empty gaze, I looked up at the dirty ceiling and realized that I was going to die here.

The faces of my parents, who were living a modest but happy retirement at home, came to mind, but nothing else. I haven't even married, and I don't have a current girlfriend. I almost laugh at the thought that there's so little I'll regret.

There's no need to worry anymore...

At the end of a distant feeling of suffocation, my consciousness was cut off.

Kato Masahiro, 32, thus left the stage of life without anyone to witness his passing.