Five days until the apocalypse.
Another sunset. Seven o’clock in the evening.
Su Jin returned to the apartment with his backpack, now wearing a tank top and baggy shorts he had bought locally.
It had been a highly productive day.
He’d burned half the afternoon in a bookstore, speed-reading encyclopedias to learn more about this world.
The rest of his time went to scouting the area, checking prices, making a budget, and getting friendly with the neighborhood guard.
Crunching the numbers, his money would be just enough, though he was planning to stockpile more than enough supplies.
If it came down to food alone for four people, they could survive for months.
If he didn’t need to stockpile other useful supplies, this much money could have kept them fed for over two years.
The local purchasing power was enough to bring a tear to a salaryman’s eye.
He dumped the backpack on the floor and fished out his carry bag.
From its depths, he extracted a pen, a notebook, and two plastic takeout bags.
One bag held rice; the other, stir-fried sliced meat.
The leaves he had eaten last night had caused no problems, but tonight, he’d treated himself to actual meat from a small restaurant.
It tasted passable. More importantly, the fact that this parallel world used standard rice and normal chopsticks was a pleasant surprise.
The two portions currently sitting on his table were leftovers he’d packed up.
Su Jin flipped open his notebook with one hand and started opening the plastic bags with the other.
Before he could open them, warmth seeped through the plastic into his fingertips.
Su Jin stared at the still-warm food and paused.
He’d read enough webnovels to know the tropes. The protagonist gets a magical Storage Ring, tosses food inside and takes it out later still fresh. Infinite shelf life. Time stasis.
But seeing it in reality—feeling the warmth of the food—was amazing. Was time standing still in there?
In those stories, pausing time was treated like an almost ordinary skill.
The food looked exactly as it had an hour ago. If this held true, he wouldn’t have to worry about his food from home spoiling.
He popped open the lid, scooped up a clump of rice, and shoved it into his mouth.
Two chews in, his jaw stopped. His expression darkened. He took a bite of the dish.
It wasn’t temporal suspension.
The temperature was identical, but the rice had gone stale, and the dish seemed to taste a little different.
The space inside the bag seemed to insulate against heat loss, but molecules could still move.
Could microbes and bacteria survive in there? He needed a petri dish to run a proper culture test.
Wait… by that logic, even a pill tossed into a Storage Ring would eventually pass its expiration date!
Su Jin slapped his forehead, letting out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle.
Why was he trying to explain something mystical with science? That was hardly scientific.
Since getting drafted into this transmigrational nightmare, not a single variable had made logical sense.
Still, a hollow sense of grief washed over him. He’d spent half his life learning science. If science failed him, what the hell was left to believe in?
He certainly couldn’t pray to his ancestors. After all, his ancestors had hardly eaten their fill.
Shoving his existential dread back into its designated mental folder, Su Jin ate his stale rice and organized his intel.
Halfway through the meal, someone knocked at the door.
Su Jin jumped. He dropped the chopsticks and crossed the room in a few quick strides.
He pressed his eye to the peephole. Fu Qingdai.
She stood alone in the hallway, looking nervous.
Su Jin yanked the door open, grabbed her, and hauled her inside.
Fu Qingdai started in surprise.
Her frantic eyes locked onto Su Jin’s face, and the panic visibly drained from her shoulders. “I… I got out, Cousin,” she said nervously.
“You did great! When did you get out? Any trouble?” Su Jin asked, delighted.
“Today… I got back around noon. My mom just left for her shift.” Fu Qingdai lowered her head and avoided his eyes. “No hiccups. I don’t know what came over that nurse, but she kept defending me… Oh, she told me privately that my ‘condition’ still needs more care. She wants you to call her with updates about my condition.”
Su Jin tapped his chin in approval, steering her toward the dining table.
“Sit. Let’s talk.”
“Okay…” Fu Qingdai murmured, perching nervously on the very edge of a chair.
“Cousin, what’s our next move?”
Su Jin walked over to the sink, filled a cup with tap water, and slid it across the table toward her.
He dropped into the opposite chair. “I will handle most of what comes next. Do what I ask you to do. But first, we need to agree on three rules. Remember them. Do you understand what that means?”
“I understand… tell me the rules,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
“Excellent. Rule One: No emotional, impulsive decisions. Rule Two: Do not leave out a single detail when you tell me what happens. Rule Three: When I give you a task, you execute it flawlessly, no loose ends. Can you handle that?”
“I can!” Fu Qingdai snapped her head up, finally meeting his gaze with more confidence.
“Perfect. That’s the spirit,” Su Jin said, flashing a thumbs-up. “You’re a smart kid. I know you can do it.”
“Ultimately, beneath the tasks and the rules, all you really have to do is trust me. I know you still have doubts, but let me tell you this: I never ask my clients to judge me by my success rate. I ask them to judge me by my failures. And I have never failed.”
“Really?” Fu Qingdai’s dull eyes ignited, latching onto his corporate bravado like a lifeline.
“Obviously. Trisolarans lie. We Namekians tell the truth.”
“Why are the Trisolarans so evil?!” she asked, fiercely invested.
Seeing the color return to her cheeks, Su Jin felt a knot loosen in his own chest.
He was bound to this assignment anyway; he might as well maintain strict professional standards.
He couldn’t afford a mental breakdown, and he also needed to look after his young client’s peace of mind.
“Cousin… what’s my first mission?” Fu Qingdai asked, sitting up straighter.
“Right…” Su Jin started, but his eyes snagged on the outlet in the corner.
A glaring oversight hit him—he hadn’t checked the electricity all day. He had two power banks, but those might not last the next few days.
His smartphone was useful now and would be even more useful later.
The wall socket had two holes. Physically, his charger would fit, but plugging it in blind might damage his phone. Better to ask her.
“First, what voltage are these outlets?”
“220 volts.”
“Was there a scientist called Volt here?”
“No. The unit of electrical potential was named after our nation’s physicist, Li Songxi.”
“So the unit is officially called a…”
“A volt.”
“Well, all right then.”
Su Jin fell silent, marveling at the company’s strange translation. The company’s translation ability was absurdly powerful, seamlessly converting cultural concepts in real-time… even if it refused to translate his handwritten words.
Whatever. The semantic mechanics didn’t matter. The phone would charge. He’d test it with a power bank first just to be safe.
A 220V standard was identical to the standard grid back on Earth. That wasn’t a random coincidence.
It simply meant they might have settled on 220 volts as a reasonable balance between economic viability and physical efficiency.
Physics hadn’t entirely failed him after all. His experience and common sense could still help him here.
“Is something wrong, Cousin?” Fu Qingdai asked, eyeing him nervously.
Su Jin shook his head and whipped out a fresh notebook. “It’s nothing. Tell me about your parents in as much detail as you can. If we get this right, I can visit your home openly, and it will be easier to help them. Go on.”
Fu Qingdai nodded emphatically, but hesitated right before speaking. “Cousin… once I finish telling you, will you tell me more about Planet Namek?”
“Deal. You talk first.”
…
One hour later.
“Cousin, that’s everything I know,” Fu Qingdai said, her hands clutching an empty mug. “Do you need anything else?”
Su Jin snapped the notebook shut. “We’re good. Tomorrow, I will come to your home. You have two things to do before I arrive.”
“What are they?”
“Ask your mother to cook a few extra good dishes, and then steal two thousand bucks for me.”