Zaboru and Park Woojin quickly made their way to Yellow Thunder PC Bang on foot. Zaboru, despite the casual outing, hadn't forgotten his disguise. He wore a brown wig, a fake mustache, and thick-rimmed glasses—making him look like a completely different person. His usual confident demeanor was hidden beneath this intentionally awkward look. Being quite well-known globally—and especially in China due to ZAGE's recent rise—it was necessary to be cautious. He knew his face could easily draw attention, and the last thing he wanted was to attract a crowd or stir up any kind of fuss.
As they walked through the bustling streets of Beijing, filled with neon lights and lively crowds, Park casually pointed out small snack shops and street vendors, some of which were already advertising ZAGE merchandise—real and fake. After a short walk, they reached Yellow Thunder PC Bang, a large building with a bold neon sign and a steady stream of young gamers entering and exiting. It wasn't long before they stepped inside.
Upon entering, the familiar scent of electronics, instant noodles, and cigarette smoke hit them immediately. The space buzzed with life. Park Woojin approached the operation desk, where the owner—an older man with a gruff look—was busy counting a thick stack of bills.
"Yo, Old Wang! How's it going?" Park greeted in fluent Chinese, his tone casual and friendly.
The owner, Wang Lei, didn't even look up at first. "Hmph, what do you want, Park, you bastard? Here to mess with my business again?"
Park laughed loudly. "Hey, don't be like that, Old Wang. Sure, we're competitors, but we're not enemies, right?"
Wang snorted and finally looked up, giving Park a half-smile that betrayed a hint of mutual respect. "As long as you don't screw with my business, we're fine. Now, who's the guy behind you?"
He narrowed his eyes, looking suspiciously at Zaboru in his disguise. The wig, mustache, and glasses made him nearly unrecognizable, but Wang wasn't the type to trust easily.
Park grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying the moment.
"Well, this is my friend Zhao Bao. He's from a small village, and he's been dying to see a proper internet café while visiting the city. You know how tourists are—and of course, everyone knows Yellow Thunder is the most famous PC Bang around here, right?"
Wang Lei snorted, unimpressed. "Whatever. As long as you're not here to mess around or cause trouble, feel free to look around. Don't get in the way."
Park nodded to Zaboru with a smirk, signaling that it was fine to move about. Zaboru gave a small smile in return, clearly amused. He didn't mind being passed off as a curious villager—it only made his cover more believable. In fact, he found it entertaining. The idea of blending in with regular customers while observing everything firsthand thrilled him. It brought back memories of his youth of previous life after all.
As Park continued chatting with Wang at the front desk, exchanging playful jabs and bits of gossip about the local gaming scene, Zaboru took his chance to slip away. He adjusted his wig slightly and stepped deeper into the glowing heart of Yellow Thunder PC Bang, eager to explore every inch of the gaming hub. The hum of machines, the flashing screens, and the excited chatter of gamers surrounded him like a familiar blanket, pulling him into a world he knew all too well.
The place was surprisingly well-maintained, with rows upon rows of bulky CRT monitors glowing in dim lighting, each paired with tower PCs , Cheap speaker and wired headphones. The monitors were thick, the kind that hummed slightly when turned on, casting a warm glow that filled the long rows with an oddly cozy atmosphere. Most of the machines were tucked neatly into semi-private booths along the walls, giving players some personal space, while others sat in shared open areas where friends shouted across desks.
The walls were plastered with colorful posters of popular games—most of them from ZAGE. Bold titles like Doom, Diablo II, Counter-Strike, Half-Life, Warcraft II, StarCraft, and Carmageddon dominated the visuals. Some posters were official, while others were clearly reprinted or slightly altered bootlegs. Even so, they gave the place a lively, fan-driven vibe that felt authentic rather than cheap.
The air conditioning was humming steadily, but even that wasn't enough to completely mask the thick, layered scent of the room. Despite the air flow, smoking wasn't prohibited here, and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke mixed with instant noodles, cheap cologne, junk food, and the faint body odor of dozens of gamers crowded together for hours. It was overwhelming at first, yet familiar to anyone who had spent time in a 90s-era PC Bang. The background noise was a constant barrage—clicking keyboards, frantically tapped mice, the digital pops and blasts of gunfire from games, and laughter or shouting from players locked in virtual battles.
Zaboru chuckled to himself, completely taken in by the raw, unfiltered nostalgia. This chaotic, noisy, and slightly smelly atmosphere was exactly how he remembered internet cafés in his past life. There was something charming in its disorder—something genuine. With a growing grin, he slipped deeper into the glowing maze of monitors, eager to soak in every detail.
He looked over at a group of friends—six players split into two teams of three—engaged in an intense 3 vs 3 match in Counter-Strike. Their energy was wild and unfiltered, each player fully immersed in the action. They weren't just playing—they were bantering, yelling, and roasting each other in the heat of digital battle. One of them shouted with frustration, "Fang, you suck! Play properly! Don't just spin around like a confused bot!"
Fang teammate immediately fired back, voice defensive and annoyed, "Shut up, you bastard! I was lagging!"
Fang gritted his teeth and snapped, "Your father is a vegetable!"
His friend, clearly pissed off, shot back, "What!? Then your whole ancestors is a Vegetable!"
The room around them erupted with laughter, not just from their own group, but from others nearby as well. Meanwhile, the opposing team—clearly the winners of that round—were grinning from ear to ear, throwing in playful mockery as they leaned back in their chairs.
"Maybe try aiming next time, Fang!" one of the winners said while sipping from a can of soda.
"You guys need a tutorial, not a rematch," another laughed, barely managing to speak between chuckles.
The friendly rivalry, the back-and-forth jabs, and the pure chaotic energy of the scene made Zaboru grin. It reminded him exactly why he loved gaming culture in the first place—not just the games themselves, but the shared joy, the teasing, and the camaraderie built over hours of play and competition. Moments like this were timeless, and here they were, happening right in front of him again.
Then Zaboru glanced over to a corner of the room, where a small group of four had gathered, clearly absorbed in something beyond just gameplay. Two of them were locked into their Diablo II sessions, eyes focused on the screen, while the other two seemed to be involved in a heated conversation. One of them, who appeared to be the seller, leaned in and said in a hushed but excited voice, "So, two 'Grief' Barbarian Axes—each with 25% Life Steal per kill, 2 Mana per kill, 150% damage to demons based on character level, +40% attack speed, +400 flat damage, ignore target defense, prevent monster heal, 15% chance for deadly strike, and adds 5–25 fire damage. All that, for both axes—500 Yuan. Deal?"
The buyer paused, clearly considering the offer. His friend, standing just behind him and watching intently, whispered, "It's totally worth it. Those axes are insanely rare, and they'll boost your farming speed like crazy. You'll be getting high-tier loot twice as fast."
After another second or two of hesitation, the buyer nodded and said, "All right. Deal!"
Zaboru smirked to himself as he observed the transaction unfold. This type of in-person item trading was extremely common back in his old life, especially in the golden era of internet cafés. It reminded him of how passionate players used to be—not just about playing the games but about the economies and communities that grew around them.
That's why, in this world, Zaboru had dreamed of creating an official trade forum for Diablo 2—one where players could safely and efficiently buy, sell, and exchange items. However, the limitations of internet speed and infrastructure at the time made that dream nearly impossible to pull off. The technology just wasn't ready, and the payment systems were unreliable at best. So, he waited—quietly hoping for a future where internet speeds would catch up, and secure digital payments would become the norm. That time, he knew, was getting closer.
To him, this place felt like stepping into a time machine. The smell, the sounds, the players shouting over rare loot, and now this live item trade—it was all so vivid, so familiar. It truly felt like he had returned to the 1990s version of his old world, and for that, he was grateful..
Zaboru decided to linger a little longer, soaking in the atmosphere, listening to the clatter of keyboards and the rise and fall of shouting matches. He wandered from corner to corner, quietly observing players completely immersed in their own digital worlds. After about forty minutes of walking and taking mental notes, he finally wrapped up his exploration and made his way back to the front.
He found Park still deep in conversation with Wang Lei, both of them laughing and exchanging jabs like old rivals who couldn't help but enjoy each other's company. Even in a competitive world like theirs, it was nice to see these small, human moments. When their conversation ended, Park Woojin gave a small wave and bid farewell to Wang Lei, who nodded with a grunt and returned to his stack of money.
Outside the PC Bang, the city buzzed with its usual energy. Park Woojin grinned and nudged Zaboru. "So, did you enjoy your time, Zhao Bao?"
Zaboru chuckled. "Yeah, it's actually a pretty fun place. Like you said, most of the games are pirated, but there's still a good number that aren't though The vibe is strong. It has charm."
Park laughed. "Right? Most folks don't bother pirating Diablo II anymore, though. It's pretty tied into your ZAGE server setup. Plus, with how people are earning money from it now, it's starting to feel more like a legit economy than just a game. Honestly, it's kind of impressive."
Zaboru nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Well, that was part of the vision when we developed it. I wanted players to get more than just fun out of it—something real they could do little invest in. Anyway, thanks for the tour, Park. I think I'll wander around the city a bit more, try out some food before I leave."
Park chuckled, giving him a friendly slap on the back. "Sure thing, Boss. Let me know if you need anything. Enjoy the local eats while you can."
Zaboru gave a small nod, then turned and disappeared into the crowded streets, the disguise still holding. He spent the rest of the evening sampling local street food, enjoying the buzz of night markets, and watching life unfold around him. It was a rare, peaceful moment between the usual chaos of his working life.
Soon, he would leave for Japan to attend the upcoming 1998 yearly meeting with the other ZAGE higher-ups. It would be a chance to realign, discuss the company's future, and also to see his family again after some time apart.
But that all can wait for now he will devour all street food!.
To be continue
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