16:59
Dante's attention was fixated on the digital clock plastered in the corner of his field of vision, and as soon as the numbers changed to 17:00, he began moving. First, he peeled the rubber glove off his hands, then he ripped the apron off his body.
[Ember: Your shift has ended. Good job!]
The notification appeared just as he turned toward the exit, but he simply swiped it away with a thought. Freedom was calling for him. He was finally going to leave the confines of that demon-infested hell, having survived the grueling nine hours of continuous torture for the third time.
Unfortunately, this world was cruel, and a humble dishwasher didn't have the power to go against it.
Just as he reached the door, someone stepped forward and blocked his way. Short, fat, and bald. Dante didn't believe in god, but looking at the man standing in front of him, he couldn't help but rethink his belief.
