hanzalashahri/Light-Novel-Dataset · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 227
for 15 minutes. How can Shīno stand it? Selling and buying stuff like this every
day? He’s got some nerves. Half appalled and half impressed, Kazutaka thought
of Shīno’s straight A student-like looks. Shīno was the owner of a jewelry store
that generated millions in annual revenue. He has to have some major balls. Do
people get used to such huge figures when they handle super expensive goods
all the time? This sort of business is definitely not for me, Kazutaka thought.
Taking out his cell phone from his chest pocket, Kazutaka looked at the
display. There weren't any messages or calls received. The security company’s
car seemed to block all transmissions and the vehicle had no antenna attached.
The time read 9:58 p.m. It had only been a scant five minutes since Kazutaka
left Shīno Jewelry. Only ten more minutes to get to the police station. Since the
car didn’t have any windows, Kazutaka couldn't even tell where they were.

“We’re almost there, Yui-san,” the driver informed him through the intercom.

“There’s no traffic this time of the day so we’ll be at the police headquarters in
about five minutes or so.”
“Ah, that’s great. Thank you.”
“Once you deliver the goods to headquarters, I’ll drive you home,” the driver
reassured in a gentle tone and turned off the intercom. He must have been
trying to ease Kazutaka’s tension. Kazutaka had a thing about gentle voices.
Normally he was surrounded by people with high-pitched voices, obnoxious
voices, and threatening tones, so Kazutaka felt relieved when hearing caring,
gentle tones.
I should eat that Cup-o-Noodles when I get home. I've already poured in the
hot water. It will have gone all soggy by now. Oh well. I can dump it into a pot,
add some more water, and heat it up. I'll just shove it into my mouth and go to
bed straight after. I’m so tired; it’s been an exhausting day today. This has got
to be the most tiring Sunday I have had in several years.
Kazutaka removed the watch from his handcuffed left wrist and checked the
time, 9:59 p.m. Two hours remaining until the end came at last to this tiring
Sunday.

At 9:00 p.m. sharp, Ren turned off the power on the grinding machine. The
cutting machine on another row over also stopped with a hissing sound.
“I'm going home for the day, boss,” his employee informed him. The young
man had just started working at this factory after graduating from a technical
high school last year.
“Thank you for staying so late on a Sunday,” Ren replied and the young man
smiled.
“Oh, this is fun for me. It gives me more chances to handle the machines.”
His face was dirty with machine oil, but he still had a dazzling smile. Atobe
Manufacturing was a small family run operation consisting only of the owner
and one employee. Machines and tools do not smile. Ren, the owner, seldom
smiled. The smiles from the barely 19 year old worker were the only sparks of
cheer around the place.





Ren turned off the factory's main power, saw the worker off, locked up, and
then went into the small room he used as living quarters.
Ren Atobe’s late night snack for the past year invariably had been Cup-o-
Noodles soup. He took out a package of the instant noodle soup from the
cupboard and poured in some hot water. He then set a timer for three minutes
before taking off his overalls to take a shower. When Ren came back from the
shower, drying his body with a towel, the timer went off, telling him that the
noodle soup was ready. He sat at his desk and put his hands together. Before
picking up a pair of disposable chopsticks, Ren politely bowed, giving thanks for
the meal.
Ren’s father had passed away the previous year. His father had been very
strict about etiquette and matters of politeness. Even after Ren had turned 20,
his father had been known to throw a punch if he did not approve of his son’s
table manners. Ren’s father, in other words, was almost like a stereotypical,
mean old mother-in-law. Humph, old man. I hope you kick the bucket soon. Ren
used to secretly think that and he thought that maybe his wish had been
granted by some mean-spirited deity. One morning, Ren found his father’s body
rigid as if he were at attention. His father was staring up at the ceiling and
already cold. It had been such a sudden death.
I’m sorry, Dad, Ren had apologized countless times since. It’s all because of
my stupid wish, I’m sorry. Please rest peacefully in heaven, Ren would think as
he bowed over the Buddhist altar over and over.
Ren may have inherited machines and a business, but his life was lacking any
sense of joy and fulfillment. Although he did not need anyone else to keep the
business running, Ren decided to hire an employee to try and change things.
That was how Ren came to find the boy, who was happy so far as he was
handling machines all day, from a local technical high school.
Ren’s business was making machine parts. It was a small-scale factory but had
a very good reputation for accuracy and a low defect rate. His authoritarian
father had trained Ren well while building up his business, which was based on
trust.

His father was not smiling in the picture on the Buddhist altar. The funeral
director had asked in vain for a nicer picture.
"Don’t you have at least one picture of your father with a smile on his face?"
he'd asked since in the picture Ren’s father was glaring at the world, looking
stern and dignified. He was the very persona of a highly disciplined man. "If you
can do it today, do not wait until tomorrow." That was one of his father’s
teachings. A small factory like this one had to be tough on itself in order to
survive. It wouldn't have very many clients otherwise. First comes work, second
comes trust. Sincerity, friendliness, etiquette, etc. came third or fourth. Ren
didn’t remember the exact order of importance. Even his late father had
sometimes gotten the order mixed up, so Ren had decided that they were
probably equally important.
Ren scanned an industrial magazine as he slurped up his soup. He didn't take
on jobs for mass produced parts. Most of his clients were research and
development departments that would order one-of-a-kind parts for precision
instruments. From research and development to commercialization, the
industrial world always looked for new technology. No matter what kind of part

for 15 minutes. How can Shīno stand it? Selling and buying stuff like this every

day? He’s got some nerves. Half appalled and half impressed, Kazutaka thought

of Shīno’s straight A student-like looks. Shīno was the owner of a jewelry store

that generated millions in annual revenue. He has to have some major balls. Do

people get used to such huge figures when they handle super expensive goods

all the time? This sort of business is definitely not for me, Kazutaka thought.

Taking out his cell phone from his chest pocket, Kazutaka looked at the

display. There weren't any messages or calls received. The security company’s

car seemed to block all transmissions and the vehicle had no antenna attached.

The time read 9:58 p.m. It had only been a scant five minutes since Kazutaka

left Shīno Jewelry. Only ten more minutes to get to the police station. Since the

car didn’t have any windows, Kazutaka couldn't even tell where they were.

“We’re almost there, Yui-san,” the driver informed him through the intercom.

“There’s no traffic this time of the day so we’ll be at the police headquarters in

about five minutes or so.”

“Ah, that’s great. Thank you.”

“Once you deliver the goods to headquarters, I’ll drive you home,” the driver

reassured in a gentle tone and turned off the intercom. He must have been

trying to ease Kazutaka’s tension. Kazutaka had a thing about gentle voices.

Normally he was surrounded by people with high-pitched voices, obnoxious

voices, and threatening tones, so Kazutaka felt relieved when hearing caring,

gentle tones.

I should eat that Cup-o-Noodles when I get home. I've already poured in the

hot water. It will have gone all soggy by now. Oh well. I can dump it into a pot,

add some more water, and heat it up. I'll just shove it into my mouth and go to

bed straight after. I’m so tired; it’s been an exhausting day today. This has got

to be the most tiring Sunday I have had in several years.

Kazutaka removed the watch from his handcuffed left wrist and checked the

time, 9:59 p.m. Two hours remaining until the end came at last to this tiring

Sunday.

At 9:00 p.m. sharp, Ren turned off the power on the grinding machine. The

cutting machine on another row over also stopped with a hissing sound.

“I'm going home for the day, boss,” his employee informed him. The young

man had just started working at this factory after graduating from a technical

high school last year.

“Thank you for staying so late on a Sunday,” Ren replied and the young man

smiled.

“Oh, this is fun for me. It gives me more chances to handle the machines.”

His face was dirty with machine oil, but he still had a dazzling smile. Atobe

Manufacturing was a small family run operation consisting only of the owner

and one employee. Machines and tools do not smile. Ren, the owner, seldom

smiled. The smiles from the barely 19 year old worker were the only sparks of

cheer around the place.

Ren turned off the factory's main power, saw the worker off, locked up, and

then went into the small room he used as living quarters.

Ren Atobe’s late night snack for the past year invariably had been Cup-o-

Noodles soup. He took out a package of the instant noodle soup from the

cupboard and poured in some hot water. He then set a timer for three minutes

before taking off his overalls to take a shower. When Ren came back from the

shower, drying his body with a towel, the timer went off, telling him that the

noodle soup was ready. He sat at his desk and put his hands together. Before

picking up a pair of disposable chopsticks, Ren politely bowed, giving thanks for

the meal.

Ren’s father had passed away the previous year. His father had been very

strict about etiquette and matters of politeness. Even after Ren had turned 20,

his father had been known to throw a punch if he did not approve of his son’s

table manners. Ren’s father, in other words, was almost like a stereotypical,

mean old mother-in-law. Humph, old man. I hope you kick the bucket soon. Ren

used to secretly think that and he thought that maybe his wish had been

granted by some mean-spirited deity. One morning, Ren found his father’s body

rigid as if he were at attention. His father was staring up at the ceiling and

already cold. It had been such a sudden death.

I’m sorry, Dad, Ren had apologized countless times since. It’s all because of

my stupid wish, I’m sorry. Please rest peacefully in heaven, Ren would think as

he bowed over the Buddhist altar over and over.

Ren may have inherited machines and a business, but his life was lacking any

sense of joy and fulfillment. Although he did not need anyone else to keep the

business running, Ren decided to hire an employee to try and change things.

That was how Ren came to find the boy, who was happy so far as he was

handling machines all day, from a local technical high school.

Ren’s business was making machine parts. It was a small-scale factory but had

a very good reputation for accuracy and a low defect rate. His authoritarian

father had trained Ren well while building up his business, which was based on

trust.

His father was not smiling in the picture on the Buddhist altar. The funeral

director had asked in vain for a nicer picture.

"Don’t you have at least one picture of your father with a smile on his face?"

he'd asked since in the picture Ren’s father was glaring at the world, looking

stern and dignified. He was the very persona of a highly disciplined man. "If you

can do it today, do not wait until tomorrow." That was one of his father’s

teachings. A small factory like this one had to be tough on itself in order to

survive. It wouldn't have very many clients otherwise. First comes work, second

comes trust. Sincerity, friendliness, etiquette, etc. came third or fourth. Ren

didn’t remember the exact order of importance. Even his late father had

sometimes gotten the order mixed up, so Ren had decided that they were

probably equally important.

Ren scanned an industrial magazine as he slurped up his soup. He didn't take

on jobs for mass produced parts. Most of his clients were research and

development departments that would order one-of-a-kind parts for precision

instruments. From research and development to commercialization, the

industrial world always looked for new technology. No matter what kind of part