Chapter 48: Former Home

Former Home

As I gazed at the vacant lot before me, an overwhelming sense of disbelief began to take hold.

That company going under was impossible. It wasn’t a baseless assumption.

I had joined that workplace at the age of twenty-two, right after graduating from a local university. It was a small to mid-sized company, more akin to a local factory than a major corporation. Though it wasn’t large in scale, it had been successfully handling the supply of machined parts for several decades, securing contracts from multiple automobile manufacturers. Despite the increasing trend of overseas manufacturers taking over such contracts, I believed domestic manufacturers were still providing it with plenty of business opportunities.

A company that had been operating so steadily wouldn’t suddenly collapse. That was my firm belief.

Could it have relocated?

No, that seemed unlikely.

The company president had built the business from the ground up, forging strong relationships with automobile manufacturers. He had once told me that the land the company stood on had been passed down from his great-grandfather and that he had built the factory there.

He wouldn’t have had the financial leeway to sell the land and relocate the factory. And above all, a president as deeply compassionate as he was wouldn’t simply sell off such a meaningful place.

The president.

That’s right. The president.

Where is he now? What is he doing…?

Memories of the past began to resurface.

Memories of when I used to work at that company.

My workplace, which had longstanding dealings with automobile manufacturers, experienced peak workloads right before new car launches. But like many factories, we were chronically understaffed. It wasn’t uncommon for me to handle everything—from sales to measuring parts—all on my own.

That day, I had shut myself away in the measurement room, located in the deepest part of the factory, which now lay as an empty lot.

I had sent my subordinates home and was measuring machined parts meant for the axles of a new bus model. Lifting the heavy, multi-kilogram parts, I worked up a sweat as I measured them using calipers and an industrial microscope.

Automobile parts are components that directly affect human lives. That’s why there are numerous measurement points and sample quantities required for inspection. I wasn’t an expert, but I had heard that the required sample count was determined based on a process capability index known as Cpk. That time, I had to measure over a hundred parts, keeping me locked in the measurement room from morning until late at night.

“Good work.”

The president came to check on me sometime past 1 AM.

He, too, had thrown himself into long hours to sustain the company and protect his employees.

“Thank you for your hard work.”

“How’s the work? Have you gotten used to being a manager?”

“Not at all. There’s too much to think about, so I just shut myself in here all day measuring parts.”

Even though the company was financially stable, labor regulations had led to an official ban on overtime. As a result, only managerial staff remained after hours. Since managers were classified as company personnel, they weren’t entitled to overtime pay. It had become an unspoken rule that they would stay behind regardless.

“Well, leading people means being disliked. Politicians are the same, aren’t they? No policy is ever universally supported. They always have to sacrifice the minority, so someone always ends up resenting them.”

Then, the president laughed, adding, “Though, the politicians getting bashed right now have bigger issues than that.”

“I know people aren’t thrilled about me becoming a manager so quickly. In terms of seniority, I skipped ahead by about three levels.”

“I’ve recognized your work ethic since the day you joined. The measuring work you’re doing now and the client negotiations aren’t even supposed to be your responsibility. The ones who haven’t been promoted to management are just selfish. They do nothing but complain, spouting theoretical arguments while refusing to take any real action. When the time comes, they’ll just shift the blame onto others. But you—you have integrity. That’s what I believe.”

“Even if you praise me, all I’ll do is keep working.”

“You should go home early sometimes. …Have you thought about finding a wife?”

“Not yet, no.”

“I see… You’re reaching the age where your body starts to feel the strain. You should find someone soon. Want me to arrange a matchmaking meeting for you?”

I couldn’t answer him.

It was true that working long hours every day had left me little time to even look for a partner. But that wasn’t the only reason I wasn’t seeking one.

“I suppose that was none of my business.”

The president let out a small sigh.

“I know you’ve been reluctant about relationships. But moving forward is important. If you realize too late, there are some things you’ll never be able to get back.”

“Yes.”

“…Well, do your best.”

Not in work—but in finding a partner.

It was an unusual thing for a company president to say to a manager.

But he probably wasn’t speaking as a president at that moment. He was speaking as an individual, concerned about my future.

It was because we were alone that he could say that to me.

By that hour, only the president and I remained in the company.

That’s why I didn’t think he ever said such things to the other managers.

The president and I had become something like comrades-in-arms.

He was already past sixty, and I was in my thirties. But there was a bond between us, forged through work.

Is the president doing well now?

Why did he shut down the factory…?

Forgetting even to check on my own condition, I started to panic.

“Where are we going next?”

It was Tachibana-san who brought me back to reality.

As I stood flustered, I slowly turned to look at Tachibana-san.

Her eyes met mine, unwavering.

Those eyes spoke to me. What I needed to do now. What my goal today was.

“…Let’s go to the apartment next.”

That’s right. That was the plan.

My goal today was to find out what had happened to my original body.

I had nearly spent all my money on this trip. I wouldn’t be able to return for a while. If I didn’t uncover the truth now, I’d be left in uncertainty for a long time.

My former apartment wasn’t far from the company.

I had lost the will to say anything and silently started walking. From the sound of footsteps behind me, I could tell that Tachibana-san was following just a step behind.

I never thought I’d walk this familiar commute route again, carrying these feelings.

I crossed the pedestrian walkway and then the railroad crossing.

When I spotted a bottle of amazake and a single white flower placed at the edge of the crossing, my mind reeled.

My steps only grew heavier.

“Are you okay?”

Even Tachibana-san was starting to worry about me.

“Yeah.”

And then, we arrived at the apartment where I had once lived.

“I used to live in that corner unit on the first floor.”

The winter sky was beginning to darken.

Lights were gradually flickering on in the apartment units.

Even the room I had once lived in was illuminated.

My heartbeat quickened.

Someone was there.

Someone was in that room…!

Before I realized it, I had broken into a run, leaving Tachibana-san behind.

I rushed toward the apartment entrance, heading straight for the corner unit.

There was no nameplate.

I rang the doorbell.

From inside, I heard hurried footsteps.

My heartbeat pounded in sync with them—loud, forceful.

Click

The door unlocked.

“Yes? Who is it?”

A woman I had never seen before stood there.

My gaze wavered.

Then, my eyes drifted past her, taking in the interior behind her.

There was nothing left of what I had once owned.

It was as if I had never lived there at all.

A crushing sense of isolation washed over me, as though I had been erased from this world.

“…Sorry. I must have the wrong room.”

I muttered flatly before turning away, leaving the bewildered woman behind as I walked off.

My company was gone.

My apartment, too, had erased all traces of me.

“How was it?”

Tachibana-san asked.

“…No one.”

“I see.”

Tachibana-san had mentioned it before.

That maybe I was suffering from some kind of concurrent illness. That perhaps a separate personality had emerged within Iori.

And now, standing here…

A part of me was beginning to believe it.

No. That’s not it.

The truth is—

I wanted to believe it.

Because that would be easier than accepting this reality.