Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

three days later.

Japan, Tokyo, Ota-ku, Kamata.

This place was once a major center of Japan's optical industry, home to many well-known optical and precision machinery companies. However, the ravages of war have left it desolate; most of the buildings along the streets are old and dilapidated, pedestrians are few, and a faint atmosphere of decay permeates the air. Nevertheless, a few small workshops still manage to survive here, barely managing to stay afloat by taking on odd jobs.

It was eleven o'clock at night, and all was quiet. Only the occasional headlights of passing cars briefly pierced the darkness of the street. He Damin's figure appeared silently in a narrow alley. The alley's ground was uneven, puddled with rainwater, and gave off a damp smell. He didn't deliberately conceal himself; instead, he deliberately slowed his pace, walking unhurriedly like an ordinary night owl, his shoes making a slight sound on the slippery ground.

His target was just fifty meters ahead—an unremarkable-looking machine shop. The factory gate was an old-fashioned tin gate with a wooden sign hanging on it that read "Kobayashi Seiko Co., Ltd." The paint was peeling and faded, and the lettering was so illegible under the dim streetlights that it was almost impossible to read.

He Damin's consciousness had already spread like an invisible net, enveloping the entire small factory. Everything inside was clearly presented in his mind.

There are three people in the factory now.

One of the older men was named Masao Kobayashi, 53 years old. Before the war, he was a senior technician at Tokyo Optical Machinery Co., Ltd., and his skill in making precision molds was unparalleled. Unfortunately, the factory closed down after the war, and he lost his job. In order to support his family, he sold his valuables and opened this small workshop, taking on some simple machining jobs to make ends meet.

There was also a middle-aged man named Seiichi Yamashita, 41 years old. He was an expert in optical glass melting, having worked at Nippon Kogaku Kogyo Co., Ltd. for fifteen years. He was intimately familiar with the formulas, melting temperatures, and process parameters of various types of glass. After the war, the company laid off employees, and he became one of the unemployed. After several twists and turns, he finally found a temporary job with Masao Kobayashi, occasionally taking on odd jobs related to glass.

The last one is Tanaka Ichiro, 38 years old, an electrical engineer specializing in precision temperature control systems. He was very familiar with the temperature control components of precision military instruments used in wartime Japan, and his skills were solid. However, after the war, there was very little demand for such high-precision temperature control in the civilian sector, and he could not find a job in his field, so he was struggling financially and temporarily made a living by working for Kobayashi.

The three individuals perfectly cover several core skill areas required for optical fiber manufacturing—precision mold making (fiber drawing dies), optical glass melting (optical fiber preforms), and precision temperature control (temperature control of furnaces and drawing towers). It's a truly perfect combination.

He Damin walked to the factory gate, reached out, and gently pushed the door. The door was unlocked, and made a soft creaking sound that was particularly clear in the quiet night.

He stepped inside.

The factory was small and dimly lit. It was crammed with various metal parts, semi-finished products, and tools, appearing chaotic. The air was thick with the smells of machine oil, metal, and a faint, almost imperceptible, rust. In a corner of the factory, a small space had been partitioned off with wooden planks, containing a makeshift bed with three thin blankets spread on it. At that moment, Masao Kobayashi, Seiichi Yamashita, and Ichiro Tanaka were huddled together, fast asleep, their snores audible.

He Damin stood by the bed, quietly watching them. In the dim light, he could see the weariness on their faces and the marks of life's hardships.

As Kobayashi Masao slept, he seemed to sense something. His eyelids twitched a few times, then he abruptly opened his eyes. In the darkness, he vaguely saw a tall figure standing silently beside his bed, like a silent statue. His heart clenched, he was terrified, and his mouth opened wide, wanting to scream—

But his voice was as if an invisible hand was choking him, stuck in his throat, and he couldn't make it out. His body was also as if nailed to the bed, unable to move, only his eyes could move in terror.

Almost simultaneously, Seiichi Yamashita and Ichiro Tanaka, who were standing nearby, were also awakened by Masao Kobayashi's movements. The moment they opened their eyes, they saw the figure beside the bed and Masao Kobayashi's terrified expression. A chill instantly ran from their feet to the top of their heads; they also found themselves unable to move or make a sound, as if bound by a mysterious force.

The three men stared wide-eyed, their pupils dilated with fear, their eyes fixed on the figure in the darkness, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

He Damin didn't waste any words. His divine sense surged out like a tide, instantly enveloping the three of them completely.

"Do not resist." His voice resounded directly in the minds of the three, cold, clear, and devoid of any emotion. "Resist, die. Obey, live."

Masao Kobayashi felt a cold, invisible force forcefully invading the depths of his consciousness, as if something was taking root and sprouting in the very core of his soul. The feeling was terrifying, like a cold, slippery snake crawling into his brain, curling up in the deepest part, ready to bite off all his thoughts and consciousness at any moment.

"This is a soul imprint." The voice continued to echo in his mind, carrying an undeniable authority. "From this day forward, your lives are in my hands. With a single thought, I can turn you into an idiot, or kill you outright."

Seiichi Yamashita trembled violently, and a strong stench of urine filled the air. He was so frightened that he almost lost control of his bladder and bowels. The threat of death was so real, so imminent.

Tanaka Ichiro's mental fortitude was slightly weaker; his vision went black, and he fainted.

He Damin frowned slightly, flicked his finger, and a faint stream of true energy silently entered Tanaka Ichiro's body.

Tanaka Ichiro jolted awake, his fear not lessened but intensified by his recent fainting spell.

"Now, answer my question," He Damin's voice remained eerily calm, "Are you willing to work for me?"

The three dared not hesitate for a moment, nodding frantically. Though they couldn't speak, they expressed their submission and obedience with all their might. To live, they would do anything to survive.

He Damin withdrew his suppression of their bodies and voices.

Several thuds rang out in succession. Due to the excessive tension and stiffness in their bodies, the three of them couldn't help but roll off the bed and fall to the ground as soon as they were freed from their restraints, landing in a daze. Ignoring the pain, they immediately scrambled to their feet and knelt in a row facing He Damin, their foreheads pressed tightly against the cold, greasy cement floor, their bodies trembling like leaves, not daring to lift their heads.

Kobayashi Masao, being the oldest and more worldly-wise, took a few deep breaths, barely suppressing his fear, and cautiously asked in trembling Japanese, "Sir...who...who are you?"

He Damin looked down at him, his voice indifferent: "Your boss."

He took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and revealed the equipment sketches he had drawn during the day—a complex wire drawing tower, a high-temperature furnace with precise temperature control, and precision molds of various specifications.

"Can you build these things?" He handed the blueprints to Masao Kobayashi.

Kobayashi Masao reached out with trembling hands and took the blueprints. Yamashita Seiichi and Tanaka Ichiro, standing beside him, also looked up curiously and leaned in to examine them. By the dim light of the streetlamp streaming through the window, the three carefully studied the blueprints.

Masao Kobayashi's eyes widened. He could roughly understand the purpose of some of the things drawn on the blueprints—for example, the structure of the high-temperature furnace, though more complex and precise than any furnace he had ever seen, its basic principles were still understandable. And those molds, it was clear they required extremely high machining precision. But there were things he couldn't understand at all—that thing labeled "drawing tower," with its strange structure, many intricate guide wheels and control devices, what was it for? Why was the requirement for temperature uniformity so stringent, even accurate to one decimal place?

"This...this is..." Masao Kobayashi stammered, completely unable to understand the purpose of these devices.

"Can you build it?" He Damin interrupted his hesitation, his tone tinged with impatience.

Masao Kobayashi swallowed hard, his throat terribly dry. He glanced at Seiichi Yamashita and Ichiro Tanaka beside him, both of whom wore blank and grave expressions. He gritted his teeth and forced a reply: "We...we can build a part of it. We should be able to try making the main structure of the furnace and the molds. But...but this drawing tower requires extremely high-precision bearings and an extremely stable temperature control system, and the equipment we have in our workshop right now...it simply doesn't meet the requirements."

"Tell me what you need," He Damin said succinctly.

Masao Kobayashi looked at Ichiro Tanaka with a questioning gaze. Ichiro Tanaka took a deep breath and mustered his courage, saying, "We need...we need high-precision servo motors, and imported precision temperature control instruments, preferably from Germany or the United States. Also, the furnace's refractory material needs to be special high-temperature resistant ceramics...Many of these things are currently regulated in Japan, so we might not be able to buy them and will need to import them from abroad."

He Damin nodded. These issues were none of his concerns. He had the money; he had the connections. Whether in America or Europe, he could use his supernatural abilities to get what he wanted.

"You just focus on building. I'll get the materials and equipment you need." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three men. "From today onward, you are no longer the owners and workers of this small workshop. You are my people, and your only task is to build these machines according to my specifications."

As soon as he finished speaking, He Damin's mind stirred slightly. The three of them felt the scene before them suddenly change. The surrounding darkness and greasy factory buildings disappeared, replaced by a vast, boundless, softly lit, unfamiliar world. They, along with the messy equipment and tools in the factory, were taken into the anode space of He Damin's small world.