Chapter 530
Chapter 530
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 530
Chapter Title: Movie Night
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"Can we really watch a movie with this?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Without a projector?"
"Yes. Just like the monitors in the control room."
"Hoo!"
Lurye showed tremendous interest in the massive full-HD TV.
It took up the bulk of the modern spoils and was impossible to miss, so it was only natural.
Thus, Siwoo immediately hauled the TV to the ship's theater, rolled up the screen, and threw himself into setting it up.
At his side, Lurye peered around with the wide-eyed wonder of someone beholding a marvel.
Come to think of it, one of the Gehenna witches actually brought in a TV, surround speakers, and other electronics.
Quite the eccentric taste.
Running them in Gehenna without proper generators would involve a world of hassle.
In that regard, the Akula made powering these gadgets a breeze.
After all, it was a nuclear sub with electricity to spare.
"When will it be ready? How much longer must I wait? Am I in the way with my things nearby? Would it be better if I stepped out?"
Lurye fidgeted, rising onto her tiptoes and dropping back down.
"Almost done."
"What? Already?"
"Yep. Just connecting the cables. Nothing to it."
Standard voltage had hovered around 110V or 220V since electricity's inception.
Plug a conversion adapter into the cord and then into the old projector plug, and even Siwoo—who knew zilch about electronics—could handle the setup with ease.
He positioned the speakers just right, thumbed the remote, and the TV hummed to life.
As a test video of flowers scrolled across the screen to verify it was working, Siwoo watched Lurye intently.
He was curious about her reaction.
"......"
He'd half-expected it, but not this level of shock.
Lurye's eyes locked on the TV's standby screen like she was gazing at a master's soul-infused final masterpiece. Her dainty mouth hung open wide enough to swallow her own fist.
Advanced science is indistinguishable from magic, or so they say—and to Lurye, this must have felt exactly like Siwoo's first brush with sorcery.
"Magnificent!"
"Glad it's working smoothly."
"What arcane technology is this......"
And yet, for someone who'd converted a nuclear sub into her personal workshop, this level of awe was something else.
"It's not black-and-white. Full color! It feels like staring at real flowers!"
Lurye pressed her nose to the screen, dissecting every detail with childlike fascination.
Nothing groundbreaking, but Siwoo couldn't help feeling a swell of pride.
Diving deep where radio waves and satellites couldn't reach made terrestrial or cable TV impossible—but with hundreds of movies loaded up, they had plenty to enjoy.
He slotted in a Blu-ray disc she might like.
"Showtime."
"Ooooh!"
The giddy Lurye launched herself onto the sofa. Siwoo set down a bag of Doritos and a Mountain Dew from the spoils in front of her.
Smuggling mere snacks and soda? Whoever ordered these had to be loaded.
"What's this?"
"Movie munchies. Like popcorn."
"Ooh, I adore popcorn."
He personally tore open the bag, draped it across her lap, and poured her a glass of the drink.
"Sit with me. Explain anything I don't get."
"Of course."
Lurye issued the order without so much as blinking or glancing away from the screen.
Reminded Siwoo of childhood evenings glued to the TV, his mother teasing that he'd get sucked right in. Now he knew exactly what he'd looked like.
The movie began.
A WWII late-war flick he'd watched while rooming with Sharon. It followed a tank crew, earning praise for its tank battles—but it wasn't made to glorify war.
Instead, it bitterly depicted the crew's PTSD, the contradictions and horrors of battle. Perfect for maybe shaking something loose in Lurye.
If she viewed war like boys play-shooting with toy guns, a product of ignorance, then why not try to change that?
Meddlesome as ever... but so what?
No heavy lifting required.
Lurye, eyes already saucer-wide in a daze, popped a Dorito into her mouth.
"A war movie."
"That's right."
"Fine taste."
No exclamation in her tone—not from waning interest.
She was utterly absorbed, barely registering the spicy snack assaulting her taste buds for the first time.
But once the gear and scenery hit the screen in earnest, she crunched through the Doritos, snorting with excitement.
Seeing her beloved armaments not in fuzzy black-and-white but crisp full HD, rendered with cutting-edge effects? No contest.
"Ooh! The hero's M4 Sherman! Veteran tank vibes oozing from it!"
"Really?"
"But why T84 tracks on that tank?"
"Pardon?"
"Story-wise, T80s seem standard. Though it's late-war, served long on the front—makes sense as a stopgap."
"......"
Siwoo had no clue what she was on about.
As a war epic, weapons galore appeared naturally.
Lurye whooped near-joyfully at each familiar piece, rattling off commentary in a torrent.
The issue? She knew every weapon in the film.
Not surface-level—detailed enough to nitpick every historical goof.
Siwoo wasn't getting commentary. He was drowning in gibberish expertise.
"O...!"
Lurye's gasp heralded the first real firefight.
A scene nailing why tanks struck terror into infantry hearts.
Doritos gone, Lurye chattered nonstop through the anti-tank guns and shell duels, fists balled tight—like a gambler who'd bet his fortune, spittle flying as he cheered his horse.
"Nazi scum deserve to die! Tank might is unmatched!"
But the awe was fleeting.
Those in the know get it: the squeamish protagonist hesitates to gun down enemy infantry, repulsed by killing.
Lurye griped like a punter watching her sure thing lag.
"What is the protagonist doing? Shoot! The enemy's right there!"
Frustrated, she chugged the fizzy drink.
"Infuriating. Like choking down a crate of sweet potatoes! Wasting shots on scruples. If he served me, military law would deal with him."
Deep in the film, Lurye had become the battlefield commander.
After the brutal clash came the next scene.
A Nazi POW dragged from a trench, surrendering, flashing a family photo as he begged for mercy.
The tank commander—fed up with the protagonist's trigger-shy ways—demanded he act like a soldier and execute the defenseless captive.
He shoved a pistol into the protagonist's refusing grip and forced the shot on the sobbing man.
Unwanted murder thrust upon him, the protagonist reeled in guilt.
Siwoo glanced her way.
Lurye was rigid.
No more tirades.
From the POW's pleas, she'd frozen like someone hit pause.
Deeply confused, eyes pleading for direction like a lost soul.
Unsure how to react, she turned to Siwoo.
"......"
From their time together, Lurye was refreshingly straightforward.
Black-and-white thinking fit her to a T.
Good or evil.
Us or them.
For an exiled ancestor like Nukelavi, who'd lived as an outcast her whole life, that distinction might've sufficed.
Lurye had likely inherited it wholesale.
But this world rarely offers pure evil or saintly good, right?
War's a messy scrum of gray baddies and gray goodies slaughtering each other.
Epic life sagas that could fill tomes, shredded in grams of lead and kilos of explosive by futile meat grinders.
Lurye vowed only soldiers, no civilians—but is war ever that neat?
Siwoo hoped she'd glimpse not the canvas's stark black-white edges, but the blurred gray heart where hues tangled.
Her reaction suggested he had.
"...Boring."
Lurye—flush with excitement moments ago—forced a blasé tone, hiding her quivering gaze.
"Another one?"
"No. Mood's killed. Trashy, repulsive film. Back to duties. Sort the rest of the spoils."
"Understood."
Siwoo exited the theater.
Then peeked through the cracked door.
"......"
Staring at her toes, Lurye pondered... then, just as Siwoo had, thumbed the remote and quietly resumed the film.