Click.
I thought I heard the sound of metal gears meshing together, echoing from the depths of the darkness.
I didn't own anything as mundane as an alarm clock. The morning sun that should have filtered through a window didn't exist in this room.
Nevertheless, my eyes opened at the exact same time every morning. With the mechanical regularity of a clockwork device.
"It’s almost creepy how accurate you are." I felt as if someone had laughed and told me that, once upon a time.
Looking up, the ceiling was a grid of exposed steel beams. The bare concrete gave the room a cold, sterile impression, but contrary to its appearance, it was surprisingly comfortable.
An acquaintance had handed the place over to me to settle a "favor." Compared to the dilapidated shack it had once been, this was night and day—a truly luxurious dwelling.
My name is Rei Haijima.
Neo Babel, Free Autonomous District.
I make my living here as a repairman. In a city where both people and things break, and where lives are bartered away for a pittance, I simply fix what’s broken and earn enough to eat.
Groping in the dark, I reached for the shelf beside my bed and grabbed a can of coffee I’d bought the day before.
As I popped the pull-tab, the scent of oxidized metal tickled my nose. I took a sip, letting the bitterness wash over the back of my tongue along with the cloying sweetness of the sugar.
—Work again today.
The item from yesterday’s request was sitting on my workbench.
An old-model holo-terminal.
The surface was scorched as if it had been caught in the heart of an explosion. The LCD screen was snapped clean in two, and the slot for the memory chip was mangled out of shape.
"...You really took a beating, didn't you?"
The words escaped my lips involuntarily. Of course, there was no reply.
The request was simple: "Just recover the data."
Normally, such a task would be impossible. Scrapping it would be the only logical conclusion.
But I had that.
I placed my fingertips on the terminal and summoned the skill from the back of my mind.
《Target: Holo-terminal Model X-23》
《Damage Rate: 92%》
《Repair?: Materials are sufficient》
The power I gained on that day—the day I was "dropped into this world."
As long as I had the necessary materials, I could instantly repair any manufactured object.
It was an inexplicable, supernatural phenomenon. But it was thanks to this power that I could even call myself a repairman in this city.
I answered with a silent OK in my mind.
Instantly, the holo-terminal emitted a faint glow.
The cracked LCD screen knitted itself back together with fluid grace. The scorched layers of metal peeled away as every individual molecule was rearranged.
It looked like a video being played in reverse.
Five seconds later, the object sitting on my desk was a holo-terminal that looked brand new.
Then, it began to play automatically.
"—He betrayed us. There’s no doubt about it."
A bitter, suppressed voice leaked out.
It was a voice I’d heard somewhere before. I had a feeling it belonged to one of the executives of the organization that had placed the order.
But it didn't matter. I had only accepted a repair job. I had no intention of sticking my nose into the contents.
I wordlessly cut the power and took another sip of my canned coffee.
The bittersweet tang of iron and sugar burned my throat.
Bam! Bam!
The dry, sharp sound of someone pounding on a steel plate shattered the silence of the workshop.
The vibrations traveling through the shutter weren't the polite knocks of a customer. They were the sounds of someone desperate, someone driven into a corner.
I instinctively knit my brows.
Anyone visiting this early in the morning wasn't a "normal" client. Still, ignoring them might only invite more trouble later on.
I stood up, lifted the shutter slightly, and peered outside.
A young gang member was standing there.
He bore the tattoo of a crew that held a lot of sway in this neighborhood on his shoulder. One of his arms was covered in abrasions, and he clutched a blood-soaked rag in his hand.
His face was ghostly pale, his breathing was erratic, and his eyes darted around like those of a cornered beast.
"H-Hurry...! Open up! Damn it, let me in...!"
His voice trembled; his breath was shallow and panicked.
And floating above his head was a "Speech Bubble."
《Dammit, they’re really gonna kill me... I’m dead if I stay here...!》
I let out a short sigh.
Good grief. This smelled like nothing but trouble.
I silently raised the shutter just enough to open the door halfway and beckoned him in.
"Heh... heheh... I’m saved! While you’re at it, give me some food and anything valuable—"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he tried to barge into the back of the shop.
Immediately, another shadow emerged from the darkness of the alley beyond the open door.
It was a man with the same tattoo. I remembered seeing his face on various street corners.
Above his head, a Speech Bubble was floating as well.
《I thought I’d lost him... At least he’s got fast feet.》
I kept the door open, wordlessly staring at the Speech Bubble and then into the man's eyes.
"...You’ve got some nerve, kid. Running into this shop of all places."
The man clicked his tongue, his gaze shifting to me a moment later.
"I’m sorry! This guy’s a rookie from out of town!"
The words were an apology, but his smile was tight and twitching.
The Speech Bubble above his head was far more honest.
《Shit! Why did it have to be this shop...?! If the bosses find out about this, I’m the one who’s gonna get thrashed...!》
The text trembled. His attitude was a desperate attempt to maintain a facade.
I didn't move an inch, simply watching him in silence.
Growing irritated, the man grabbed his companion by the collar and dragged him back outside by force.
"We’re leaving, now!" he barked, before turning to me and bowing subserviently.
His face was slick with sweat as he desperately forced a smile.
The man who had been caught was screaming something frantically, but I had no interest in listening.
Eventually, the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance, and silence returned to the back alley.
I closed the door and exhaled a deep breath.
I tossed the empty can into the trash bin, the metal clattering with a hollow ring.
—Speech Bubbles.
That was another part of my power. The inner thoughts of others were visualized and displayed above their heads.
Thanks to that, I was undefeated at poker, and I could avoid unnecessary friction like I just had.
Good grief.
I didn't say it aloud, letting the thought echo only in my mind.
I sat back down at my workbench and reached for the next item.
Quietly, I activated my skill.
Neo Babel.
A city that was broken, rotten, and yet somehow kept on turning.
And today, in this city...
I would continue to silently fix what was broken.
Even if, for some reason, the people around me looked at me with an inexplicable sense of awe.