Apocalyptic Era: Starting from picking up a Bishoujo

"...Your question is just too strange."

Mazao didn't immediately answer my question, but it wasn't because she misunderstood its meaning.

My query clearly exceeded her expectations, so much so that she seemed to want to cover up her surprise but reacted too slowly, allowing me to catch the change in her facial expression.

It looked like she was planning to play dumb...no, that wasn't it. Perhaps from her perspective, it was impossible for someone like me to ask such a question because the Doomsday Era wouldn't be familiar with the culture of time travel novels. So she was probably doubting whether she had misunderstood my words.

Seeing this, I explained in detail why I had asked that question.

After listening, she slowly regained her composure, then fell into thought.

After a while, she finally responded, "I'm sorry, I can't answer your question. Because even I haven't figured out exactly what's going on."

"Why is that?" I was completely baffled, "Isn't it immediately clear whether you traveled with your physical body or just your soul? It should be quite obvious whether it's the former or the latter, right?"

"You are right, but..." she pondered.

I quickly caught on. Yes, usually one would know whether they were in a different body without even needing to look in a mirror; they could sense it even with their eyes closed. Only in one scenario would someone be "unable to understand."

"Can I interpret it like this...the body you're using now is very similar to your original one, as if it has never been changed, but some strange details made you suspicious?"

"...I can't say much for now." Her attitude was very guarded.

I countered, "Didn't you say you'd answer my questions in exchange for food?"

At that, her expression struggled momentarily. Unfortunately, after the struggle, she still remained cautious.

But it seemed she wasn't being cautious about me getting too much information, but rather about whether her own problem might involve me.

She had shown similar emotions before. Perhaps in her view, the changes occurring to her were so weird and unknown that she didn't want anyone else to get involved until she was completely sure of the safety. This approach was understandable from her perspective, as according to her, she had inadvertently involved others in disasters she brought on more than once, making her now profoundly suspicious and sensitive to any triggering movements.

"Alright...then at least answer me this, where did you get your handgun?" I had to switch to another question. "Surely you can't say you don't know this one?"

"I can answer that," her expression relaxed slightly. "I stole it from the department responsible for maintaining local security."

"You stole it from the station?" I was surprised. "Why would you take such a risk?"

"My initial goal wasn't to steal weapons," she explained calmly. "When I first arrived at this era yesterday, I was completely clueless about my surroundings and urgently needed information to understand whether my current situation was safe, but I didn't know where to start looking. After some thought, I simply sneaked into the place that maintained local security."

"Sneaking into such a place right off the bat, you really are audacious..." I was impressed by her boldness.

"If it's a place dedicated to maintaining security, it definitely has the most knowledge about potential local dangers. It was the most efficient way to investigate," she explained with an attitude that came across as above the law, "and my 'blessing' is unparalleled when it comes to escaping. If anything went wrong, I could have moved quickly."

I thought the most efficient method would be to find an internet cafe, but I wasn't even sure if she knew how to use the internet.

"And then, while sneaking in for your investigation, did you happen to find the room where the firearms and ammunition were kept, and then you just took the opportunity?" I was curious. "Are the official forces pursuing you because you were discovered during the infiltration?"

"...Yes, I'm not very familiar with the security measures of this era, so..." She admitted reluctantly, seeming embarrassed about being discovered during her infiltration.

I continued to press: "This morning, you mentioned that you can't use your superpower now because you forced yourself to use it after arriving in this era despite a soul injury. Did you use it to evade the pursuit of the official forces?"

"...No," she pursed her lips. "I can't tell you the specific reason."

Although she wasn't willing to tell me, she didn't seem to intend to deceive me with a fabricated story. Perhaps the real reason was related to her being found bloodied at the abandoned construction site. She likely judged that the real cause fell into the category of "catastrophes that could bring danger to me."

That made me even more eager to know.

I knew I couldn't rush the matter, so I changed the subject: "Hmm...so when I spoke with the police this morning, you instantly understood that the serial killer they were looking for was you, not because you really are the serial killer..."

"I had already gotten a grasp on the basic security situation of this era. 'Small girl wandering nearby with a real gun'—no matter how you think about it, that's me, right? Later, I confirmed it through you," she said, showing a puzzled expression while touching her stomach, "I just don't know why I would be mistaken for a serial killer."

It turned out she had been questioning me at the time without my knowledge.

I had underestimated her.

Perhaps questioning her should stop there—she was still hungry, after all.

I walked over to the sofa, picked up the remote control, turned on the television, and then said to her, "Let's leave it at that for now. You watch TV in the living room for a bit, and I'll have food ready for you soon."

"I understand."

Her gaze was immediately attracted to the colorful program on the screen, but she showed no surprise or novelty toward the television set itself.

I silently observed her reaction, took note of it, and then turned to walk into the kitchen.

It was merely a matter of mixing various ingredients together to make a simple fried rice—it didn't take me much time. I was just a bit worried that it might be too oily or too salty, which could be hard on her stomach. Should I add more rice to reduce the proportion of oil, salt, and side dishes? But she had said her body was fine...

Never mind, let's trust her for now.

Besides, if her stomach did have issues later, I could use it as an excuse to have her lie down at my place for a few more days.

With that thought, I didn't hesitate to increase the proportion of side dishes in the fried rice, and I turned back to take out some mixed rice sauce from the fridge, adding a bit more of it into the dish.

Soon, I came out of the kitchen carrying two luxurious plates of fried rice.

Mazao, perhaps having smelled the aroma of the fried rice from the kitchen, had already shifted her gaze away from the TV program and was eagerly looking in my direction.

As the saying goes, hunger is the best spice. Moreover, if she truly came from the food-scarce Doomsday World, her defenses against delicious food might be much lower than those of people living in peaceful times.

I'd heard that in the materially scarce last century, even instant noodles were treated as a rare luxury, while now it had become quite a mediocre affair in the eyes of the masses.

I called Mazao to sit at the dining table, then placed one of the plates of luxurious fried rice in front of her and handed her the spoon.

She held the spoon, staring blankly at the luxurious fried rice, motionless.

"You can eat now," I reminded her. "Be careful, it's hot."

"Ah? Oh..." She snapped out of her daze but continued to stare straight at the fried rice.

After a while, she swallowed and finally moved the spoon, stirring the side dishes and rice together before bringing it to her mouth and starting to chew slowly.

I stood by the table, silently watching her every move.

Halfway through her chewing, she seemed to notice my gaze, raised her eyebrows in question and asked, "Why keep watching me? Aren't you eating?"

Hearing this, I too picked up my plate, took a bite of the fried rice, and then said, "I just want to hear your opinion."

"It's delicious," she responded modestly and continued eating.

I had been looking forward to her possible reaction, like the characters in fantasy novels who get astonished by modern grilled meats in an otherworldly setting. It seemed I had been overly sentimental.

However, slowly, I noticed the corners of her mouth curving up in a small smile, her body, initially tense like a wary wild animal, gradually relaxed a considerable amount, and her knees, hidden below the table, started shaking slightly.

Her attention was focused on the fried rice, and the spoon in her hand moved faster and faster.

"Don't eat too quickly. Chew more to avoid upsetting your stomach," I finally couldn't help but remind her.

"Mm, mm..." She nodded without taking her eyes off the plate and slowed down her pace of eating.

As she ate, she unconsciously revealed a happy smile, and her complexion became rosy.

Really, what was I reminding her for?

But at that moment, she looked truly like a girl in the bloom of youth, far removed from a transmigrator who was cautious and cold, afraid of being hurt by others and fearful of hurting them in return.

I had never considered how to make her smile, nor had I imagined that she could even show such an expression.

This was the first time I had seen her smile.

I sat down opposite her and watched her eat for a good while. To me, these might be unnecessary emotions that would hinder my actions when I needed to be cruel to her. But such a cute smile—I could look at it a bit longer without reaping any consequences, right?