Chapter 265

“Wow….”

Without even performing the basic preparatory action of placing a finger on my chin, a gasp involuntarily slipped from my lips.

The surroundings are a complete mess. It is, quite literally, a total disaster without even needing to change a single word.

But would it be too hard to understand if I described it as a wonderfully magnificent mess from a distance?

To aid in understanding, let’s momentarily revive my auditory function, which had been isolated from the noisy reality. So… just for a moment.

“Emily! Emily!!! Where the hell is that damn chip containing the script!? No, no, not the final revision confirmation #1.3! The real final revision no-change #1.11… Anyway, that half-assed name! We’re live in five minutes, do I really have to come all the way here??”

“Opening code Kappa Oregano 492! Requesting access to the valuables unmanned delivery locker… [You have entered the password incorrectly 5 times. You can try again in 30 minutes.] …Hey! Go get an axe! Get the bastard who jotted this down, too!”

“Anyone! I mean any celebrity, even a minor one! I just need to connect with someone who can attend the ‘Fashion in Haven’ offline panel in an hour…. No, I’ll buy the contact! I’ll transfer 100,000 credits right away! Please, guys! Ladies? Hey you heartless bastards!!!”

“Is there anyone with a defibrillator or any electric shock implants!? I’m begging you, without asking any questions, just give a high-voltage jolt to the singer waiting in B-3 lounge between their legs. …Do you think I want to make this request, damn it!? They need a strong stimulus before singing…”

“…How about this? Pour oil on the security droid in the main control room and set it on fire. If it goes well, the core would overload and chaos would ensue, right? Then we can all hold hands and take a break. Great, heh, it’s perfect.”

Hmm, my ears feel like they’re physically tearing apart.

Would you believe this is actually the result of Zero filtering and aggregating audio sources, dividing them into different frequency bands? It was once a jumble of noise that I couldn’t comprehend no matter how hard I tried.

Like a scene in a cartoon, people hurriedly run by, flailing shreds of paper without even bothering to pick them up.

Lowering their upper bodies as if they were football players, charging forward while looking only at the ground, rhinoceros-like figures on the phone.

Before the tear stains across their cheeks even have time to disappear, employees sprawled across the corridor, wailing like children.

Corpses muttering something with such a pallid complexion that it looks like they’re about to pull a blade from inside their suits and start swinging it around.

And finally, even the small automated robots dispatched to clean up the mess they left, scampering between legs like rodents, handling the details.

…Somehow it feels like the proportion of normal people is overwhelmingly small, but anyway.

Mr. Durgy, noticing our expressions as we observe this ordeal, which is hard to differentiate from a bustling market or a busy broadcasting station, briefly turned his head to defend his coworkers amidst the chaos.

“Wow. Thankfully, everyone is keeping it together and doing their jobs today! I was contemplating whether I should slap someone in the face or punch them in the stomach if they rudely block my way~”

“…What?”

No, that’s not a defense at all. What the hell is that, what crazy nonsense is this?

Why does a logic like, “If a guest flakes, we’ll forcibly recruit someone from the staff, since they’re all involved anyway through some battle—abuse of power or physical combat,” exist in this world?

It’s really hard to understand his brief explanation, especially since he spoke in a serious tone that didn’t even sound like a joke, while looking at my expression as if he’d just bitten into a bug and then laughing it off late.

I honestly thought it was much calmer when we were operating the police emergency response team at the gate.

Is this what happens when a media company that broadcasts 24 hours a day has its employee welfare go to the ground?

…Poor broadcasting industry, sad office workers. I’m glad I made the jump to self-employed freelancer when I abruptly changed my career.

However, if I had to name one, just one thing about this environment that I am satisfied with.

It’s that everyone is so busy that they have no regrets or interest in either Zero or me.

Realistically, even if I were to call in a few droids to start cleaning the house right now, smashing through the ceiling, and creating a humanoid kiln to stroll around in, people would only glance and then disregard it.

“Ugh. What do you mean overtime pay will be issued after working hours! I just clocked out! …You want me to come down again because the payment got cancelled?! I don’t want to go back there!!”

“Get the hell out of the way in front of the elevator, you idiot! If this cargo cart doesn’t reach the Platinum Studio within 28 seconds because of you, I swear I’ll just kick down the door and jump out with you! Better behave!”

“Everyone… is quite lively.”

“It’s been 8 years since they replaced all the corridor lights, and there’s a joke that no one even knows where the switch is!”

I managed to package the screams still echoing in my ears.

It’s not a good attitude to feel relieved by seeing others in distress, but… as Zero’s controlled droids’ parts get more expensive and their numbers keep increasing.

As people grow increasingly intolerant of a girl who is slightly below average height and a heavily armed robot duo strolling through the area, it’s quite refreshing to find a space where people are so indifferent to others and seem to accept whatever appearance someone has.

In fact, I like it more than just tolerating it. It’s so damn convenient!

Yeah, there’s a superconducting mercenary dyed entirely in green. In the original, there are also plenty of villains who have gone completely nuts, adding mechanical arms close to their spines in a craze over new technology.

It’s absurd for someone like me to keep attracting attention in this broadcasting center, the hub of this outlandish cultural trend. Hmmm… Everyone, good luck today. Let’s fight…!

Wiiiiing….

But despite my silent cheer going unheard. Mr. Durgy, leading our party, swiftly exited the crowded upper central corridor and guided us into an inner passage that felt less populated but somehow more strictly managed.

Let’s see, the nameplate on the smoothly opening door reads… A-1 Performer Waiting Room.

“If you could just wait comfortably in here for a moment, as soon as the payment confirmation is complete, I will return to escort you to the holographic studio. And if you need anything, my number is registered on the intercom, so I’ll be on my way now…!!”

“Uh… Sure, I’m fine with that. Do as you please.”

Moreover, while he was speaking smoothly, his implant suddenly lit up as if he had received a call.

He spat out the rest of the announcements at breakneck speed and swiftly turned to vanish in the same direction he had come from, leaving us alone in the quite spacious room.

…Perhaps my strict adherence to the schedule, showing up exactly on time at 29 minutes before the appointed hour, had turned into a critical blow for my borderline late MD.

I hope they take their frustrations out on whoever planned such a tight schedule instead of blaming me for following the rules.

While I appreciate that they made various considerations from the pickup vehicle, seeing the facial expression of the person who’s supposed to be our guide gradually turn pale is honestly unsettling.

“…Well, it’s not like the trouble would fall on the guests.”

– Since it’s a special room granted to staff, I believe there won’t be any special surveillance system, but I’ll ensure all verification procedures are carried out. –

“No, the more the merrier. Last time I saw one of the enema executives extracting all sorts of sex tapes to gather leverage… Ah, you made me think of that again! Ugh!”

Forget about the memories I hardly recalled, the sudden dizziness was the least of my concerns.

Soft-looking sofas, height-adjustable chairs that feel like they belong in a salon, and a wall full of mirrors.

The torturous-looking beauty equipment that I couldn’t even begin to understand how a person would fit into, among other items.

Excluding the presence of ergonomic smart furniture designed with graceful curves that adjusts to user seating, the entire scene resembled a typical dressing room found in any 21st-century broadcasting studio, or just about anywhere in the media, making my heart race a little.

While I was officially invited as part of the recruitment, just thinking that I’m privy to the behind-the-scenes story might send chills down anyone’s spine, right?

But feeling excited is still feeling excited… Being invited so openly to rest as if I could take full advantage of this golden opportunity without doing anything would be foolish.

“Uh, yes.”

First, with a hop! I kicked my feet and landed plushly on the sofa, successfully settling down.

Since antiquity, it has been said that when one runs, they want to walk, and when they walk, they want to sit, and once sitting, they want to lie down, so I would argue that claiming this space to lie down is not laziness but instinct.

Though my unusually sleepy body contributes to that fact.

It might be due to the trauma left from being long isolated in a test tube that has somehow made me prefer resting my physique against other objects.

In any case, I now have such personal preferences. Hmmm.

And honestly, when I look in that large full-length mirror, I feel a little awkward so sitting straight in a chair would be hard.

It’s different from briefly glancing in a changing room just to see if certain clothes fit or something.

– Maximum auxiliary power activated, commencing refresh rate computation adjustments. Fixing with isotopes of iron, zinc, aluminum, copper, and other integrated circuit materials for emphasis. –

“Alright… First demo, let’s do this~”

With that, I threw some encouragement towards Zero, who was raising the output levels, meaning to show off brilliantly, and shifted into full spectator mode.

Huh? What’s the first thing?

This is closely related to Zero’s ongoing enthusiasm for changing parts nearly every single day.

Even if they tease me about being addicted to shopping… sadly, I’m the one footing the bill, but this time, it’s not me who’s swiping the card.

I dislike leaving the reserves sitting idle for no reason, and I also can’t deny that denying the kid who wants to enhance their power due to my stingy instincts is unreasonable. So, I entrusted them with nearly all of my savings and electronic accounts—almost, just almost! Not enough to reach rock bottom!—and this creature went crazy and splurged.

They went and bought a damn depth scanner that they must always possess for singing.

It’s a sizable item typically connected to military command vehicles or buildings like laboratories, so they always sent the miniaturized versions back as they were just far too expensive. But what kind of pathetic adult would I be to not buy even a single toy with the money I earned?

As a result, I couldn’t carelessly take that model equipped with it into security-sensitive places, but I trust it will certainly prove its worth. …Please, or else I’ll refund it in the blink of an eye, credit rating or not.

[Ziiing…!]

Once that oddly addictive charging sound echoed through, the entire room became covered in dense micro-analysis beams, forming a net.