"Impossible… I must have heard it wrong. There's no way the company is shutting down just after I got promoted. I haven't even enjoyed the benefits of becoming No. 1 yet!"
The man ignored the little girl, who seemed to have lost her mind and sat down on the wooden bench.
As he took his seat, smoke began to ooze from his body, and the sound of mechanical gears turning echoed faintly.
His towering frame—once two and a half meters tall—gradually shrank, reducing by nearly seventy centimeters until he was just 1.7 meters in height.
The scars across his body became even more visible, and his previously waist-length hair now appeared longer due to his shortened stature, almost reaching down to his toes.
The real No. 1 grabbed the collar of the little girl and dragged her toward the man.
However, the girl didn't resist and continued to mumble to herself, still fixated on the idea that she no longer had a job.
No. 1 stopped in front of the man, her faintly glowing eyes showing hesitation, as if she wanted to say something but didn't know how to express it.
The man didn't look at either No. 1 or No. 4, keeping his gaze fixed on the cloudy night sky in the distance, as if waiting for someone.
After a few minutes of silence, No. 1 finally took a step forward and retrieved an envelope from her pocket, extending it toward him.
The man looked at the envelope in her hand for a few seconds before taking it.
"What is this?" He asked in a calm voice.
No. 1 didn't speak but made a series of hand gestures to communicate.
As the man watched her movements, he noticed the black glove covering her hand had loosened slightly, revealing a patch of skin beneath.
The exposed skin was dry and withered, like that of a centuries-old corpse.
Still, the man showed no emotion, simply continuing to watch her gestures in silence.
Just as No. 1 finished making hand gestures, No. 4—who had still been muttering about losing her job—noticed the envelope in man's hand and her eyes immediately lit up.
She broke free from No. 1's grip on her collar and ran over to the man, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
"It's your birthday tomorrow, right? No. 1 and I made this gift for you! So how about you treat us by not shutting down the company?"
The man looked at the girl's shining eyes and her face full of hopeful expectation, then turned to glance at No. 1.
"You should leave now."
No. 4 trembled when she heard this, her head hanging low, her face filled with visible dejection.
No. 1 remained motionless for a few seconds after hearing the man's words, then finally nodded.
She once again grabbed No. 4 by the collar and began dragging her away.
"No, wait! At least let me meet No. 2 and No. 5 before you shut everything down! It's been years since I last saw them. I know No. 2 is coming here, you ca—"
No. 4's protests were abruptly cut off when No. 1 struck her lightly on the side of the neck, making her passed out.
No. 1 looked once more at the man still seated on the bench, gazing into the distance. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up No. 4 and leapt to the next building—covering nearly six meters without any effort.
The man shifted his deep purple eyes slightly, watching as No. 1 and No. 4 jumped from one rooftop to another before vanishing from sight.
Time passed.
Thunder! Thunder! — — — — —
The flashes of lightning within the dark clouds became more intense and blinding.
Tap! Tap! Tap! — — — — —
Heavy rain began to fall. The rainwater mixed with the pools of blood and scattered body parts on the rooftop, turning the scene into a hellish slaughterfield.
The man stared at the rainy sky, his expression unchanging, as memories raced through his mind.
Amid the booming thunder, the sound of rotating propellers suddenly reached his ears.
Calmly shifting his gaze, he saw a helicopter approaching from the distance.
It hovered directly above the building, and a rope was thrown down from it.
A man slid down and landed a short distance away from the bench where the other man sat.
The moment the man landed, the rope was pulled back up, and the helicopter quickly flew away as it couldn't remain hovering in one spot for long due to the worsening weather.
The newly arrived man wore a business suit. He had short black hair, sharp green eyes, and the handsome face of a European.
He looked around the blood-soaked rooftop with a complicated expression before shifting his attention to the figure seated calmly on the bench.
"I'm sorry," The man in the suit said, bowing slightly and speaking in a solemn tone.
"You don't have to be..." The seated man replied in his usual calm voice. "I called you here because I wanted to give you something."
As he finished speaking, he flicked his fingers, and several small objects shot toward the man in the suit.
With reflexes far beyond the capabilities of an ordinary human, the suited man moved his hands swiftly and caught every object with ease.
Curious, he opened his palms to inspect them—and the moment he saw what they were, his eyes widened, and his entire body trembled.
"You…" He looked at the man with shaking eyes and took several deep breaths to compose himself.
"Why?" He asked with clenched fists. "Why did you remove them?"
The man stood up from the bench, his face still void of emotion, and began to walk away.
"These things lost their meaning long ago. The only reason I didn't remove them earlier was because I wanted to spend more time with her…"
As he spoke, an image of a kind old woman flickered through his mind.
"Now that she is gone, there's no reason for me to endure this hellish life any longer."
The man in the suit fell silent. His eyes shifted to the corpses strewn across the rooftop, his expression turning dark with hatred.
He looked again at the small objects in his hand—objects that resembled microchips or data modules—and clenched his fist tightly around them.
"H-how long can you hold on?" He asked in a trembling voice.
The man paused at the question, then looked up at the sky as rain poured down.
"One day... maybe a week... or a month…" He replied, shaking his head slightly. "It doesn't matter. The sooner it ends, the better."
He turned again and walked toward the rooftop's metal door—the one that led back inside the building.
"What do you plan to do now?" The suited man called out after him.
Without stopping, the man answered with no hesitation.
"Try to live a normal life for the few days I have left... That's what that annoying old woman always wanted me to do."
Just as he reached the door and was about to step inside, he paused and asked,
"By the way, Mike... No—No. 2—are you living happily?"
No. 2's body trembled when he heard the question and he answered in a hoarse voice,
"I am happy… Thank you for giving me the chance to escape from that hellhole back then."
"It wasn't just me," The man said, turning to look at No. 2 and nodding. "All of us tried our best at that time. I'm glad at least one of us made it out and found happiness."
He turned and stepped through the door, disappearing into the stairwell.
"Goodbye, Azrael," No. 2 said softly, watching the man vanish from sight.
The moment the name "Azrael" reached the man's ears, he stopped. For the first time, his calm voice turned cold, devoid of all human warmth.
"Don't call me that. I hate that name.... And the people who gave me that name as well."
No. 2 froze at the emotionless tone.
Azrael didn't wait for a response and continued walking, and the metal door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang.
"Goodbye, Zero…" No. 2 spoke after a moment of silence.
"I hate that name too," Azrael's voice echoed faintly from beyond the door, followed by the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance.
On that rooftop, which had already turned into a blood-drenched purgatory from the storm, only the lonely figure of No. 2 remained.