Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 362 Moscow Has No Shop Windows

(Two chapters today~)

The Volga's suspension is very stiff. Every time it goes over a road seam, the car experiences a dry, bumpy ride.

There's movement outside the window.

Moscow's streets are almost twice as wide as Tokyo's. The six-lane main roads are lined with bare birch trees, their white bark the only bright spot against the gray sky.

The snow on the road was crushed into a blackish-gray mud strip by the tires, and the strip along the curb never melted completely, freezing into jagged icicles.

The building is constructed in large, monolithic blocks. The grayish-yellow concrete exterior walls and the perfectly square window openings are arranged in an extremely regular pattern, like a table that has been copied and pasted dozens of times.

"...Moscow is a great city. It has witnessed the sacrifices of our people in the Great Patriotic War, and also the achievements of socialist construction."

"Your visit will further promote mutual understanding between the people of Japan and the Soviet Union."

Kozlov sat in the passenger seat, talking non-stop. As he spoke, he turned halfway around to face Shuichi and Satsuki in the back.

"The cultural ties between the people of Japan and the Soviet Union are precious in any era. Your donation of medical supplies and educational materials will play a very positive role in promoting children's welfare in remote areas of our country."

Xiu Yi nodded slightly.

"We feel honored to be able to do our part."

Kozlov smiled and continued talking about the work arrangements of the Friendship Association, the planned visit to the Academy of Sciences tomorrow, and the humanitarian handover ceremony the day after tomorrow.

His wording was very skillful, and a long string of lines that were hard to understand kept coming out of his mouth.

Satsuki sat next to Shuichi, a reserved smile on her face, occasionally nodding slightly at appropriate moments.

But her eyes were always looking out the window.

As she crossed an intersection, she saw a line of people.

The line stretched out from the entrance of a shop, curved at a right angle along the sidewalk, and turned into a side alley, where the end of the line disappeared from sight.

The people in line were dressed in thick clothes, and their breath formed small wisps of mist above their heads, but no one was talking.

The distance between each person was roughly the same, about forty centimeters, as if measured by some unseen rule.

The shop had no sign. Inside the window were three aluminum milk pots and a kitchen knife of unknown material. They were arranged very neatly, with precise spacing between them.

But the lights above the shop window were off, and the door was closed.

The only purpose of those things is to prove that "this is a store".

The Volga stopped at the red light.

Satsuki's gaze slowly moved backward in the direction of that line.

There was a woman in the group, around forty years old, wearing an earthy yellow scarf, with her hands in the opposite pockets of her coat.

Her gaze wasn't ahead—the people in front of her were motionless, so looking at them was pointless—but rather she was lost in thought. Her eyes were fixed on a patch of broken ice at the edge of the sidewalk, as if that patch of ice was more worthy of her attention than the queue itself.

The light turned green, and the car started moving.

Kozlov was still speaking.

"...The USSR Academy of Sciences warmly welcomes your foundation's intention for academic exchange, especially in the fields of materials science and precision optics—"

Satsuki turned her gaze away from what was in front of her.

"Mr. Kozlov," she interrupted softly, her voice gentle. "What's the name of this street?"

Kozlov paused for a moment, then turned to look out the window.

"Miss Saionji, this is Kutuzov Street."

"It's a beautiful name," Satsuki smiled. "I hope to take a walk here sometime in the future."

Kozlov's smile relaxed slightly.

"Of course, of course. There are many places worth walking in Moscow."

He continued, "Friendship, communication, cooperation."

Satsuki looked out the window again.

The Volga continued its journey along the right bank of the Moscow River.

At the approach to a bridge, a group of young people stood by the roadside. Three men and one woman, dressed in cheap faux leather jackets and jeans, were shivering in the sub-zero temperatures.

One of the boys had faded jeans at the knees and was holding an unlit cigarette in his hand.

As the Volga convoy passed by, all four men turned their heads at the same time.

That look in his eyes.

It wasn't hostility, nor was it curiosity. It was more like a calculation—assessing the value of the car, the nationality of the people inside, and any potential transaction opportunities that might arise from it in a very short time.

His gaze lingered on the black Volga's paint for less than two seconds before he looked away, probably recognizing who was in the second car following the foreign affairs license plate.

The girl finally looked away, tugged at the boy's sleeve, and the two walked away quickly with their heads down.

Volga turned toward Red Square.

In the distance, the colorful onion domes of St. Basil's Cathedral stand out starkly against the gray sky, like an out-of-place old toy forgotten on a huge gray tabletop.

"Everyone, GUM Department Store is just ahead."

……

GUM Department Store.

Entering from the south side of Red Square, the glass dome of the three-tiered arcade still looked magnificent in the afternoon's grey light.

A cast iron frame supports a transparent curved surface, covered with snow that filters the incoming light into a pale color.

The arcade is long, with facades on both sides in the style of the late 19th century, and the skeleton of the old empire is still there.

The shops on both sides are arranged like a honeycomb, each with a uniform door frame and counter. The floor is paved with light-colored stone, polished to a high shine, and leather boots make a crisp sound when stepped on.

But it was excessively quiet.

Unlike the quiet of "not yet open in the early morning," this place is quiet in the sense of "the door is open, there are people standing inside, but no business is taking place."

The sales clerk stood behind the counter, motionless, as if nailed to that spot.

If the function of a department store is to display merchandise, then this place has undoubtedly done a very good job. As for selling, that is probably the responsibility of a separate system.

Satsuki and her entourage walked along the road. Kozlov and his two companions led the way, explaining the architectural history of GUM.

"GUM Department Store is one of the most famous stores in Moscow, and many foreign friends come here to visit. It is not only a shopping place, but also a part of architectural art."

"It is indeed beautiful. Your country's art has always been at the forefront of the world..."

Shuichi responded gently.

In reality, it was almost only Shuichi and Kozlov who were talking the whole time, but the two old bureaucrats kept talking back and forth, creating the illusion of a lively atmosphere.

Amy followed behind, her head constantly turning.

She stopped in front of a counter in the east wing of the second floor.

There were four items in the glass cabinet: a beige plastic-cased desktop calculator, two radios, and an alarm clock.

The clock face was facing outwards from the counter, but the hour and minute hands were both stopped in the wrong positions.

A saleswoman stood behind the counter. She was in her fifties, with her blond hair tightly combed, and wearing a dark blue uniform.

Her hands were folded in front of her, her gaze was fixed straight ahead, and there was not a single movement in her facial muscles.

She saw Amy staring at the calculator, but she didn't say anything.

She was in charge of the goods in the counter, but she did not receive foreign guests.

Amy slowed her pace. She turned and moved closer to the glass.

She stared at the calculator.

The casing is almost twice as thick as similar Japanese products. The keys are widely spaced, the keycaps are made of slightly yellowed plastic, and the injection molding lines on the edges are not properly sanded.

The display window was an old-fashioned VFD vacuum fluorescent tube, glowing green. But what truly caught her eye was the back—through the glass and the angle, she could only see a small section of the back cover. There were markings indicating the locations of five screws, as well as a row of ventilation slots.

Ventilation duct.

Does a calculator of this size need ventilation slots?

"Satsuki-chan..." Her voice wasn't loud as she turned to look at Satsuki, who was walking towards her from behind a counter. "May I buy one of these?"

Satsuki walked over to her and glanced at the yellow calculator in the direction of her gaze.

"You need it?"

Amy shook her head, lowering her voice even further.

"It's not usable. The integration is strange—the casing is so big, you'd think it could fit more functions inside. But the panel only shows basic arithmetic operations and a square root function."

She traced the outline of the calculator in the air through the glass with her finger.

"And there are ventilation slots. If it were just a CMOS computing chip, it wouldn't need to dissipate heat to this extent. That means there might be something else running inside."

She started speaking faster.

"If their civilian applications are still using discrete components to build logic gates, then the generational gap between their military and civilian applications might be even greater than what's speculated in published papers. But if there's something inside—"

Satsuki tilted her head slightly.

Amy's voice stopped abruptly.

There was a moment of silence between them, and Amy shrugged.

Her gaze drifted deeper into the arcade—Kozlov was talking to Shuichi, his back to her. But one of the two men in dark gray coats was standing facing her.

Amy changed her mind very quickly.

"...I mean, as a souvenir, it's very...educational."

It paused for half a second.

"I'll pay."

Satsuki looked at her, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the entourage behind her.

She adopted a lecturing posture.

"Amy."

"Yes."

"Remember, you represent the Saionji family now." Satsuki put one hand on her hip and pointed at Amy with the other. "You're not some bad kid in the Akihabara underground parts market who would take someone's radio apart down to the screws."

Even knowing that Satsuki was covering for her, Amy's ears still turned red.

"I...I'm not just left with screws..." Her voice trailed off. "At least I'll put it back together."

Satsuki didn't reply, only uttering a soft "Hmm?"

"...Occasionally there might be two extra."

Amy hugged the tool bag in her arms tighter and glanced at the calculator one last time, as if saying goodbye to something.

"...Then I won't take it apart."

Satsuki nodded slightly in satisfaction and patted Amy's head.

Amy shuddered and mumbled something else, her voice barely audible.

"You can buy it and put it on display."

Upon hearing this, Satsuki gently tapped her forehead with her hand.

"No strange things are allowed to be offered."

Amy covered her forehead and said, "Good girl."

"Yes, Satsuki-chan."

If you do it again... Satsuki-chan touched my hand...

Satsuki withdrew her hand and continued walking forward.

"Fujita."

"exist."

"Have someone buy two units. Go through the normal procedures and add them to the accompanying purchase list. Name the items 'educational equipment'."

A very short, sharp gasp came from behind her. Then Amy could barely contain herself:

"Satsuki-chan—!"

Amy shouted and was about to rush up and hug Satsuki.

"Ms. Suzuki, please watch your manners."

But Chizuru appeared behind her at some point and picked Amy up, leaving her legs flailing in the air.

"Ah... Satsuki-chan..."