This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 548.1: Final Nail In The Coffin

Spielberg had returned, and he had met the administrator!

In Boulder Town City Hall, when that familiar face appeared at the doorway, the members of the Worker's Union immediately surged forward, surrounding him excitedly.

"Hold on! Don’t ask about the story yet!" Seeing the crowd rushing at him, Spielberg seemed to have anticipated what they were going to say and immediately yelled, "I have something important to say!"

"Hurry up then! Quit wasting time," said Lorette, hooking an arm around his shoulder and urging him, "You said you were heading to the northern suburbs. Well, now that you’ve been there, what happened next? How’s the chapter on the revolution coming?"

"What I’m about to say is even more important than that!" Pushing Lorette’s hand away, Spielberg motioned for everyone to quiet down. After clearing his throat, he started to speak. "He let me try on his exoframe. That thing is truly extraordinary... Even someone like me could gain the strength of a giant while wearing it!"

An electrician couldn’t help but speak up. "Incredible... He actually let you wear it."

The other workers jeered playfully.

"I don’t believe it! Didn’t your coat stink him to death?"

"Exactly!"

"You’re full of it!"

Spielberg wasn’t bothered by the teasing. He knew the truth couldn’t be faked, and lies wouldn’t stand. "Believe it or not, the administrator is actually very easygoing. He didn’t mind at all. Though his bodyguard was a bit intimidating... That man kept staring at me, and I didn’t even dare ask about borrowing a shower... But that’s not the main point."

Lorette gulped. "What is the point you’re getting at?"

Was there really something more outrageous than a factory worker being hosted by the New Alliance’s Administrator and even invited to try on exoframe?

Everyone stared at Spielberg, waiting for him to continue.

A joyful smile appeared on Spielberg’s face, as if a dream had come true.

"Awakeners can defeat exoframe! The administrator himself told me! He is both an awakener and an exoframe user! No one understands it better than he does!"

The crowd erupted in gasps of astonishment.

That headline had puzzled them for a long time.

In fact, because of it, Bore the Awakener had often been mocked by illiterate members of the militia.

Though it was a trivial matter, the controversy had finally come to an end.

Lorette clenched his fist in excitement. "I told you that the story wasn’t exaggerated! That bastard Joey, I’m going to find him right now and make it clear!"

Seeing Lorette turn excitedly to leave, Spielberg quickly reached out and grabbed him. "Let it go. It’s not worth it."

He didn’t like the militia folks. But the revolution was over, and what was needed most was unity.

The workers nearby laughed and patted Spielberg on the shoulder. "Don’t mind how Lorette acts, he and Joey are actually on great terms."

Another worker chuckled and added, "Exactly! Joey’s not the petty type. He’s one of the few in the militia who actually tells the truth. You shouldn’t write too tragic an ending for him."

"Joey? Is he in the book?" Spielberg scratched his head. He genuinely couldn’t recall a character like that in the story.

Regardless, he was truly considering writing about a centurion who stood by the people during the uprising.

After all, he had gone a little too hard on the militia during his time in prison, but the truth was that there were good folks among those soldiers.

Whether they had joined the poor out of unpaid wages, greed, or other reasons, the fact remained. It was a victory shared by everyone.

Nothing would ever change that.

Elisa stood on the edge of the crowd.

She held a letter in her hand, wanting to approach but unable to squeeze through, so she tiptoed and waved her arm.

Spielberg soon noticed her and parted the crowd, stepping up to her with a gentle smile. "Need some help?"

Elisa nodded earnestly, a rare nervousness showing on her face. "Um... Was there a reply?"

At her question, Spielberg scratched his head. He had returned empty-handed.

The New Alliance had already expressed their stance and decision through actions, something more valuable than words. But he sensed the young girl in front of him was hoping for something more.

Still, he chose to speak honestly. "There wasn’t..."

Seeing Elisa’s disappointed eyes, Spielberg thought for a moment, sighed, and added, "Actually... I think he felt a little guilty."

Elisa froze. "Guilty...?"

"Yeah." Spielberg nodded, recalling the moment. "After he read your letter, I noticed a definite change in his expression... It was like your choice had taken him by surprise."

Those powerful figures didn’t always foresee everything. Spielberg was certain of that after meeting Fang Ming.

Even someone as clever as the administrator had outcomes he couldn’t predict.

At the end of the day, the New Alliance’s administrator, as Spielberg had seen, was just a regular human being, not someone with three heads and six arms.

It was the adoration of his followers that gave his role special significance.

That was precisely why he carefully considered the consequences of each decision, and regretted the mistakes he didn’t anticipate.

"Why?" Elisa asked anxiously, not understanding. "Did I... Did I do something wrong?"

Spielberg scratched the back of his head. "No. This has nothing to do with right or wrong. If anything, you did too well, and that made him feel a bit guilty. He probably never expected that a single sentence from him would push a passionate youth right to the edge... How should I put it? I think he really wanted to praise you, but he held back."

Spielberg figured the only reason he could even sense this was because he had felt the same way once.

Especially when he saw Ending A in the projection room.

The workers carried his body toward the inner city and fell one by one, their blood staining the entire street... Even though he knew it was fake, he couldn’t help but shed tears.

If there had never been the Survivor’s Daily, or the later Worker’s Daily, and then the story of Bore the Awakener, there probably wouldn’t have been any of those hot-blooded workers, and that damn casino might still be open.

He didn’t regret reading the newspaper aloud that day, but thinking back still filled him with a tinge of fear, those feelings weren’t contradictory.

If a single sentence could turn a coward into a fearless warrior, then a letter could easily be treated like a divine command.

Even if Elisa hadn’t meant it that way, there would be opportunists who would.

Barring surprises, the next city lord would likely come from the Worker's Union or the militia, or perhaps just a regular citizen.

But if the administrator had written a letter back, a wave of fanaticism might have pushed a 16 year old girl into a place she should never have gone.

She had already done enough.

Solving Boulder Town’s problems wasn’t as simple as asking everyone to grow vegetables in flowerpots. Many people didn’t even own one anyway.

Ideals could bring miracles to life, but sustaining them required more practical methods.

Otherwise, it would become another kind of hell...

Looking at the downcast Elisa, Spielberg had a flash of inspiration and said, "It’s normal that you don’t understand. Honestly, I only realized a few things after walking through the gates of death myself... Like, if you want to see someone or do something, you don’t necessarily have to wait until spring."

Elisa blinked in surprise. "I don’t have to wait until spring?"

"Exactly. I wrote in my reply to Editor Dori that I’d visit the New Alliance in spring, but really, I should’ve just gone right away... You’ve got a letter for him, right?" Spielberg looked at the envelope in Elisa’s hands and smiled. "Why not deliver it yourself? He’s right here and will probably stay a few days."

"He may not be able to write you back, but if you want to talk to him in person, in private, I think he definitely wouldn’t hold back a few words of praise!"

...

At the same time, in the northern corridor of River Valley Province, on the plains beside the Great Rift Valley stood a vast and prosperous city-state.

The city of a million people looked like an island stranded in the wilderness.

The alternating red and blue lights made it look eerily similar to Ideal City, but it was a mere imitation.

In terms of size, population, productivity, and, most importantly, core values, the Bugra Free State was the complete opposite of Ideal City.

Bionic implants and psychotropic drugs flooded the streets. Cheap virtual dreamscapes, as fragile as fleeting hopes, healed wounds and fulfilled every fantasy.

Of course, it wasn’t all decay and desolation.

One could find a free refrigerator, if they didn’t mind watching two minutes of ads, or a spotless apartment behind spotless floor-to-ceiling windows.

Whether rich or poor, anyone who brought value to the Free State, however little, could survive.

A puppet of the Great Rift Valley created the settlement and imposed a set of rules on it.

The people of the old era had placed great hopes in it, wishing it would become a second Production Department, a true servant of the wasteland that listened to the ideals of the past. But the lofty planners had never asked the survivors what they wanted to become.

The only right the forebears left their descendants was the right to choose a name.

In the end, they named it Bugra.

Bugra was both their currency and the name of their Free State.

Because here, only Bugra could buy true freedom, and only those who held it were considered truly alive.

In the office of the president of the Flintstone Group,

Standing before the desk, Xavier said respectfully, "... A group of migrants recently arrived from the south. They claim to have been persecuted by Boulder Town’s new authorities and are requesting asylum."

Seated in the office chair, Sigma turned his back to him and asked casually, "What’s their stance?"

"Same as before, they plan to hand the matter off to the Great Rift Valley’s arbitration..." Xavier glanced respectfully at the real emperor before him and cautiously asked, "... What is your opinion?"

"I think they handled it brilliantly." Sigma suddenly burst into laughter and mocked, "Let those old farts in the Great Rift Valley see what kind of garbage they raised."

Of course.

Knowing the Great Rift Valley’s style, they would certainly welcome those disgraces with open arms, handing them a pension and letting them live out their days.

Sigma had heard of it.

Till that day, the longest-living old fossil still held a grudge about the collapse of the Post-War Reconstruction Committee and the abandonment of settlements to fend for themselves.

Sigma had no objections.

If the old man was so nostalgic, they could let those vermin live.

There was meaning even in ugliness.