Atsushi walked down the wide corridors of the headquarters, the click of his heels echoing off the walls. His heart was pounding in his chest, he felt that he would never get used to this place. Atsushi shed so much blood that hundreds of paintings could be painted with it. But instead, all the blood flowed out on the dirty streets, in the slums where he came from. The spikes of the collar painfully dug into his skin, but he did not dare to complain. There is no room for weakness here. Atsushi let out a short sigh as he stopped in front of the boss's office door