34

After a few minor events, I finally arrived safely in Jisuvāya, and seeing that the city hadn’t been completely destroyed let me breathe a sigh of relief.

Of course, if the city was intact, then that meant they were here as well… those green pests.

With the queen present, extermination was easy enough, but it ended up wasting a lot of time.

In the end, cleanup wasn’t finished until well past noon.

I tossed aside a street sign covered in blood and some unidentifiable bodily fluids pulled from the road, then returned to my pack to wash my hands and down the last of my water.

“Damn, these things really do spawn everywhere,” I muttered “gao gao,” wiping the blood from my legs and tail with some paper scavenged from nearby.

Anyway, since I was here, my top priority was to accomplish my goal.

After all, this was the Empire’s largest munitions depot.

Two hundred years had passed, so I expected it would be safe, but before any strange “event” occurred, I wanted to be gone.

If I hadn’t seen the cityscape intact, I might have considered staying a night. But with the weapons factory looming so solidly, it was instead frightening.

Before something went “boom” for whatever reason, I wanted to reach the electronics district and finish my task.

And so, here I was at Jisuvāya’s electronics district.

I had expected to find any kind of electronic device here… but it had been ransacked.

Not just ransacked, but sloppily so. After looking around, I realized this wasn’t the work of humans—it was goblins.

From the dust layering, it seemed the vandalism had happened within the past few years.

Apparently, the goblins had tried to use the electronics as weapons, tinkering with the scattered wreckage before throwing them aside in frustration.

If this had been the warehouse and not display stock, it would have driven me mad—but goblins had no means to break through Imperial-made security shutters, and the treasures had been preserved for 200 long years.

So I broke the shutter myself and went inside.

The warehouse was massive, even large enough for me, and the sight made my head spin with options.

Though my intent had been to get my item and leave quickly, I allowed myself a little time.

First, my primary target: the latest model of high-grade video camera.

I found it immediately.

To be safe, I took two.

Next, I carefully packed fifty blank recording data discs into my backpack.

Arranging them carefully, I headed for another warehouse.

Forcing open the shutter, I found stacks upon stacks of boxed data discs.

(So, I have to find what I want from all this…)

Unlike in stores, nothing here was neatly organized, making the search difficult.

Still, I had to search.

I had to dig through this mountain of cardboard to unearth the masterpieces within.

And after only ten minutes of opening boxes—I found them.

(That’s right! This is a data disc warehouse. Which means discs of every genre are here!)

Yes—adult data discs.

And in massive quantities.

Compared to this overwhelming stockpile, my old private collection was nothing. I nearly staggered back in awe.

But retreat wasn’t an option.

To think such abundance could deter me from my mission was laughable.

I snorted and reached into the mountain to find my real prize.

In the end, I walked away with twenty-five adult discs and three movie discs.

Wait, let me explain.

One of my favorite gravure idols had gone R-18.

So of course, I had to collect her works. And then I kept finding others radiating an aura that screamed “don’t miss this one.”

But anyway, my main goal had always been the video camera—the movies were just extras.

I only wanted to continue a few sequels and test whether data discs from this era were still usable. The genre didn’t matter.

Yes—the genre didn’t matter.

With that, my purpose in Jisuvāya was fulfilled, and I prepared to leave.

I patched up the hole I had made in the shutter with scrap material, to keep goblins from moving in.

(Farewell, Jisuvāya. I look forward to visiting you again)

My backpack still had room, but since I was carrying precision machinery, I chose to keep it light.

If I sprinted with a pack stuffed to bursting, disaster might strike.

The experience of carrying that giant TV strapped to my backpack had taught me well.

And so, I returned safely.

Along the way, I discovered an old railway line between Jisuvāya and Aidres. By following the treeless path, I cut down my travel time and reached my main base by early afternoon.

I realized then that each city had a station. Traveling by rail would be smoother and virtually free of accidents.

(The problem is that everything’s overgrown, so it’s hard to tell where the tracks are)

If I could depart from a city station, it would solve that problem, but in cases where the station itself had been destroyed, like in Aidres or the thoroughly ruined Imperial Capital and its surroundings, there was nothing to be done.

Given the Capital’s state, I had to conclude that making full use of the Imperial transportation network was “nearly impossible.” At best, I could take advantage of it if I happened upon it by luck.

That aside, with preparations finished, it was time for my first movie screening.

I probably should have gone hunting first, but my curiosity got the better of me.

I loaded a disc into the player and used the remote.

Realizing I had forgotten to turn on the TV, I quickly tapped the switch with a toe.

The image that appeared was only “a little better.”

The sound distortion was awful, and though the picture was visible, it wasn’t watchable.

One by one, I swapped discs, but the results were all the same.

(So that’s it… data discs can’t survive 200 years)

The conclusion left me with a bad feeling.

I pulled out the video camera, loaded a blank disc, attached the battery I had been secretly charging, and started recording.

It worked—it recorded.

Now and then, I muttered “gao gao” to get some audio while checking the functions.

Then I removed the disc, placed it into the player, and pressed play.

Fate was cruel.

The recording had failed—the discs themselves hadn’t survived 200 years. My plan crumbled.

I collapsed to my knees, staring up at the dark ceiling as hope drained away.

(No, wait! I forgot the possibility that the player itself was the problem!)

That faint spark of hope revived me.

Still, I had no intention of rushing back to Jisuvāya right away.

First, I needed food and rest.

Dragging myself upward, I went hunting.

The result: a single boar.

It had taken far too long, but maybe that just showed how shaken I was.

Washing my machete, which served perfectly as a butcher’s knife, I carried the meat to my open-air kitchen.

The discarded parts I threw into the waste pit I had dug in the forest.

Small animals and insects disposed of them nicely, keeping foul smells minimal.

I salted the meat and ate.

But the meals never changed.

With my spirits low, even the taste of salt lost its appeal.

I shoveled the meat down mechanically, then washed my griddle and dishes, propping them against a wall.

There was still no proper space to set clean items.

I headed underground and collapsed into the bed I had spent so much time making.

It was still too early to sleep—but I couldn’t muster the strength to rise.

I lay there with my eyes closed for a while, rolling about, until eventually I opened them again.

There, among the scattered discs, I noticed one case: “Big-Bust Festival! Summer Bikini Carnival!”

Should I prioritize improving my living conditions first? Or should I put entertainment above all else?

Without finding an answer, I slowly drifted off to sleep.