“..Damn car..” A boy mumbled, getting increasingly irritated by his job. Angello was a mechanic in 1884, Ruria. This was basically practice work. A traveling inventor who had taken up a temporary car mechanic gig. He decided to take a break and just lean against the car he was working on for the time being, running a hand through his hair as he lifted his goggles. Not to mention—he had a distinctive appearance. Mocha brown skin, vitiligo, brown, curly hair, messy clothes and a worn vest, etc. He even had freckles. The worst part was that he was short, and everyone made fun of him for it.