This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

Life in Scrap Yard was monotonous.

Every morning, I was forced to wake up early, half-unwillingly.

Because of an alarm that wasn’t even set.

[The labor theorists are trying to overthrow the city!]

[Report! Only reporting can save the city!]

The loudspeaker blaring from the police was relentless, blasting through the streets every day, without fail.

The noise seemed to tear at my eardrums as I held my aching head, heading out to buy groceries.

“The workers’ paradise will come! You dogs of the factory owners!!”

“Catch this bastard!!”

To be more precise, I had to dodge the police chasing after a young labor theorist who was handing out pamphlets in the market, all while shopping. If I wasn’t careful, I might end up spilling the food I had just bought.

After eating a quick meal at home, I opened the newspaper.

I was hoping to find news about black magicians, or demon followers.

Of course, no such news appeared.

[The whereabouts of the ringleader of the labor theorists, Cal Renaro, remain unknown!]@@novelbin@@

[Let’s eradicate the cancerous laborism that’s corroding our society!!]

[A healthy society is created through thorough reports!]

The only news in the paper was about labor theorists.

How evil their claims were.

How they were ruining Scrap Yard’s factories and the city as a whole. These were the only types of stories.

It was starting to get frustrating.

This wasn’t a newspaper, it was more like propaganda.

After hastily cooking something to eat, I made sure to stay indoors, avoiding going out as much as possible.