Episode 28 — The Translation Printer and the Limits of a Hack Freelancer.
After the two of them left, silence returned to the house.
The relief of Leon being saved and the sanitation issues of Felsen.
Both were swirling around in my head.
(…Setting up water and sewage systems, huh.)
I’m the one who said it.
I’m the one who suggested it, but—
(…Despite what I said, I have basically zero knowledge of civil engineering.)
My previous job was a “web-dev freelancer.”
And I wasn't even a proper engineer I could be proud of.
I’d listen to the client’s requests, tweak a few templates, and say, “Here’s your delivery.” I was a glorified hack, barely scraping by on the edge of being a fraud.
And now, a guy like me is going to handle a city’s infrastructure?
Water? Sewage? Pumping water with waterwheels?
No, no. This is way too far outside my field of expertise.
(…Well, whatever. I have to do it.)
I went into my study and switched on the PC.
The fan began to whir, and a white light filled the dim room.
Then, I reached for a “certain item” sitting on the edge of my desk.
[Translation Printer: Translates Everything — 5,000,000L]
I’d bought it on impulse from Lumina Shopping and hadn't used it even once yet.
The description said, “Translates everything: otherworld scripts, ancient languages, and magic formulas.”
(…If I connect this to my PC, I should be able to convert information from the internet directly into the local language.)
I plugged in the USB cable and powered on the printer.
A blue lamp flickered, and the machine gave a low hum.
“…Alright. It’s working.”
I opened a search engine and placed my fingers on the keyboard.
(First… “Medieval water system mechanics”… and search.)
A list of results flooded the screen.
Roman aqueducts, modern sewage systems, lift pumps, the siphon principle…
(…Yeah. I have no idea what I’m looking at.)
There were too many technical terms; my head was starting to throb.
(…But I have no choice.)
I took a deep breath and scrolled down the screen.
The Translation Printer’s lamp pulsed quietly.
(…Alright. Time to show the world the true power of an imposter freelancer.)
I opened my drafting software and began drawing—the river’s position, the city’s elevation, the pumping points, the placement of waterwheels, the pipe routes, the sewage flow…
It was a crude, messy diagram that a professional would laugh at.
(…Well, they have magic here. It’ll work out somehow.)
I told myself that as I hit “Print” on the Translation Printer.
The printer hummed, and a sheet of paper slid out.
On it was—
“…What the hell. This looks incredibly legit.”
The messy lines I’d drawn had been refined with annotations in the local script, looking exactly like a “Magical Engineering Blueprint.”
The Translation Printer was a terrifying piece of tech.
(…With this, I can actually explain it to Gustav and the others.)
But—
(…I don’t have the local data.)
The river flow, the elevation changes, the city boundaries, the underground conditions.
These were all things I couldn't understand without “seeing the site.”
However.
(…I am absolutely not leaving this house.)
On this point, I will not budge.
Even after coming to another world, my lifestyle remains unchanged.
I only go outside if it’s an absolute necessity. Now that my basic needs are guaranteed by the midnight reset, the necessity of going out is exactly zero.
(…So, what do I do?)
I pulled out my phone and opened Lumina Shopping (Japan Edition).
[Cameras & Photography Equipment]
(…Found it.)
A familiar lineup of Japanese digital cameras appeared on the screen.
Everything from compact models to professional-grade gear.
(With this… even if I don’t go, I can just have someone else take the photos for me.)
I picked a user-friendly model and hit the buy button.
[Digital Camera: High Resolution / Waterproof / Shock Resistant — 24,000L]
(…That’s cheap. Thank god.)
A few seconds later, the gate’s intercom rang. As usual, a small box was sitting on the welcome mat with no one in sight.
I opened the box and took out the camera.
The manual was in Japanese.
It was a strange feeling, reading a Japanese instruction manual in another world.
(Perfect. This handles the site survey.)
I called Bartos at the garrison via the walkie-talkie.
“Bartos, come here for a second.”
A few minutes later, Bartos appeared, the clanking of his armor echoing.
“Master Zect! What is your command?!”
“Take this.”
I handed him the camera.
“…What is this?”
“A camera. It’s a tool for taking pictures. I want you to capture the river flow, the city’s topography… everything.”
Bartos held the camera with both hands, trembling as if he were handling a holy relic.
“Is… is this a divine artifact?!”
“Something like that.”
“Master Zect…! To be entrusted with such a vital mission… I, Bartos, shall fulfill it even if it costs me my life!”
“No, please don’t let it cost your life.”
Bartos gave a heavy nod and placed a hand over his heart.
“Very well! I shall go and photograph everything—from the upstream of the river to the downstream, and every inch of the city’s perimeter!”
“I’m counting on you.”
After I taught him the details on how to use it, Bartos sprinted away, clutching the camera to his chest.
(…Good. That covers the site survey perfectly.)
I went back to my study and sat in front of the Translation Printer.
(I’ll use the photos Bartos brings back to create the water and sewage plan for the entire city.)
I took a deep breath in front of the monitor.
(…Even a shut-in can build a city.)
With that thought, I began to tap away at the keyboard.
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