Chapter 1466 1384 — Zaboru Secret Folder

Ayumi sat beside Zaboru in his workshop while he turned on his PC and immediately slipped into the familiar rhythm she had seen countless times before. Several windows appeared across his monitors, filled with code, rough design documents, half-written notes, strange diagrams, and random ideas that seemed to appear faster than Zaboru could type them down. Sometimes he wrote several lines of code, stopped halfway through, opened another file, wrote a short note about some mechanic that had suddenly entered his mind, then returned to the previous window as if the interruption had never happened.

Ayumi had always found that side of him strangely charming.

Whenever Zaboru entered his full working mode, his entire expression changed. The casual smile disappeared, his eyes became sharper, and his fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard while his attention seemed completely locked onto whatever idea was inside his head. Sometimes he would suddenly stop, stare at the screen for several seconds, then mutter something under his breath before rewriting half of what he had just created.

Ayumi smiled quietly while watching him.

Her husband really was handsome when he focused like this.

But today, that was not actually the reason she wanted to sit beside him.

There was something else on this computer that she had wanted to see for a very long time.

Something called:

"ZABORU ONLY."

Both of Zaboru's personal computers—the one inside his office at ZAGE Tower and the one here in his home workshop—contained a folder with exactly that name.

And Ayumi knew very well that the folder was protected.

Extremely protected.

That alone made it unusual, because Zaboru was normally never secretive with her when it came to his work. Ayumi had used his computers countless times before. Zaboru had personally encouraged it whenever she wanted to learn how he programmed, how he organized his game ideas, how he created design notes, or how he translated some ridiculous concept in his head into an actual playable system.

He was never stingy about knowledge.

If Ayumi asked how a particular mechanic worked, Zaboru would happily explain it. If she wanted to see unfinished code, he let her. If she became interested in one of his rough concept sketches, he usually showed her even when the artwork was incomplete. He had even allowed her to browse through several unfinished projects that nobody outside ZAGE knew existed yet.

But ZABORU ONLY was different.

That folder was always encrypted.

Not simply protected by an ordinary password either.

Ayumi had once tried opening it out of curiosity and had immediately realized that whatever protection Zaboru had placed around it was far beyond anything normal. Even knowing quite a lot about computers herself now, she could not even properly understand how the encryption system worked.

And Zaboru never left it unlocked.

At first, years ago, Ayumi's imagination had gone in the worst possible direction.

She had briefly wondered whether the folder contained pictures of another woman.

The thought had made her absurdly jealous at the time.

But eventually even Ayumi had to admit that the idea made absolutely no sense. Zaboru had never behaved like a man hiding another lover, and more importantly, Ayumi trusted him. He was almost painfully obvious whenever he loved something or someone. This was the same man who could barely hide his expression whenever she wore something he liked.

So Ayumi eventually abandoned that theory.

If it was not another woman, then there was only one explanation that made sense to her.

Ideas.

Zaboru's ideas.

Not the polished ones he showed developers at ZAGE.

Not the organized documents he gave to his teams.

The completely raw, unfiltered ideas that existed before anyone else was allowed to see them.

Ayumi had plenty of reasons to believe that.

There had been many occasions when she happened to walk past him while he was creating something incredible. Sometimes it was artwork, sometimes a creature design, sometimes an environment, and sometimes a concept for a game she had never heard him mention before. But the moment she became interested and moved closer, Zaboru would casually close the window.

Whenever Ayumi asked to see it, he always gave almost the same answer.

"It's not done yet."

And no matter how much she insisted, he refused.

Not nervously.

Not suspiciously.

Just casually, as though the subject was not negotiable.

That only made Ayumi more curious.

Now, sitting inside his workshop while nearly nine months pregnant, Ayumi had decided that she finally possessed the ultimate weapon.

She would use her condition shamelessly.

It was despicable.

She knew it.

And she had absolutely no regret.

Zaboru continued typing casually, occasionally glancing toward Ayumi to make sure she was comfortable. After another few minutes, Ayumi finally spoke in the sweetest voice she could manage.

"Zabo…"

Zaboru continued typing. "Hm?"

Ayumi looked toward his monitor as innocently as possible. "I've always wondered something."

That made Zaboru pause for half a second.

Ayumi continued, "What exactly is inside that ZABORU ONLY folder?"

His fingers stopped.

Only for a moment.

Then Zaboru resumed typing.

Ayumi immediately noticed.

She smiled.

"I know it's always encrypted," she continued, watching his expression carefully. "And I don't even know how to open that ridiculous encryption system of yours. But I've been curious about it for years. What are you hiding there?"

Zaboru finally glanced toward her, completely relaxed, and smiled.

"Heheheh. Secret."

Ayumi frowned. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"You're not going to tell your wife?"

"Nope."

Ayumi narrowed her eyes at him. "Pictures of another woman?"

Zaboru sighed without even looking surprised. "Ayumi, we both know that's not true."

She reached over and wrapped both hands around his bicep. "Then what is it?"

"Secret."

"Zabo."

"Ayumi."

"I'm curious."

"I know."

"That makes it worse."

Zaboru chuckled and returned his attention to the screen. "You'll survive."

Ayumi stared at him in disbelief. "So cruel."

"I bought you food this morning."

"That does not cancel emotional cruelty."

Zaboru laughed quietly. "You're getting dramatic."

Ayumi leaned slightly closer. "Just show me a little."

"No."

"One file?"

"No."

"One picture?"

"No."

"One tiny note?"

"Ayumi."

She pouted.

Zaboru sighed and finally turned toward her. "This folder is different, okay? I really don't want you seeing it."

Ayumi blinked.

His tone was still gentle, but there was something firmer underneath it.

That made her curiosity grow even more.

So Ayumi decided to deploy the weapon.

She slowly placed one hand over her large stomach and looked at him with exaggerated seriousness.

"The twins are asking."

Zaboru stared at her.

Ayumi maintained a perfectly innocent expression.

"The twins?"

"Yes."

"They're asking about my encrypted folder?"

Ayumi nodded.

Zaboru slowly looked down at her stomach, then back at her face. "Ayumi, you're almost nine months pregnant. I think we skipped the stage where you can blame random things on pregnancy cravings."

Ayumi immediately frowned. "That's not how pregnancy works."

"I know."

"Then don't argue with a pregnant woman."

Zaboru chuckled. "That sounds like a threat."

Ayumi squeezed his arm again. "Pretty please?"

Zaboru shook his head. "No."

Ayumi paused.

Fine.

If sweetness did not work, she would escalate.

She looked away slightly, lowered her eyes, and began using every bit of acting ability she had developed over the years. Her expression softened. Her lips trembled very slightly. She made her eyes wet enough to look as though she might actually cry.

"But I really want to see it…"

Zaboru's fingers stopped moving completely.

Ayumi continued in a small voice. "I've been curious for so long. You show me almost everything else, but whenever it's that folder you always hide it from me. Why is it so secret?"

Zaboru slowly turned his chair toward her.

He stared at her face.

Ayumi stared back.

A few seconds passed.

Then Zaboru sighed.

"Ayumi."

She sniffed softly.

Zaboru narrowed his eyes. "You're acting."

Ayumi remained silent.

"I know you're acting."

Her eyes became even wetter.

Zaboru groaned and covered his face with one hand. "God damn it…"

Because even though he knew perfectly well that his wife was manipulating him, seeing Ayumi looking as though she was about to cry was still terrible for his health.

But he also knew one thing with absolute certainty.

He could not show her that folder.

Because ZABORU ONLY was not simply a folder containing unfinished ideas.

It contained evidence of another life.

Inside were hundreds upon hundreds of notes Zaboru had created since arriving in this world. Lists of games he remembered from his previous life. Descriptions of mechanics that had not yet been invented here. Rough production timelines. Ideas for how certain future concepts might be recreated earlier with the technology available in this world.

There were also visual references.

A lot of them.

Concept art and recreated imagery based on things that should not exist yet.

Elden Ring.

Monster Hunter World.

Devil May Cry 5.

Persona 5.

And lot more.

Some were rough sketches Zaboru had personally recreated from memory. Others were detailed notes about environments, interfaces, combat systems, character designs, animation philosophy, progression structures, and technical ideas that belonged to games from years—sometimes decades—into the future.

There were even documents comparing what he remembered perfectly with what he only understood as a player.

That distinction mattered enormously to Zaboru.

His Deep Memory Dive and Emulator Mind allowed him to recall things with extraordinary precision, but perfect memory did not automatically equal perfect understanding. He could remember exactly what a game looked like, how it controlled, where enemies appeared, what animations played, or how systems behaved from a player's perspective.

But that did not mean he understood every piece of code behind it.

It did not mean he knew every design decision the original developers had made.

It did not mean he knew how every shader worked, how every AI routine had been programmed, or why a specific engine handled something a particular way.

So Zaboru documented those gaps too.

"Remember behavior, not implementation."

"Need research on equivalent technology."

"Player knowledge only—do not assume developer intent."

The folder had gradually become a map of his previous life's gaming knowledge.

And also insurance.

Zaboru had lived in this world long enough to understand that he could not assume his reincarnation abilities would remain forever.

Deep Memory Dive could disappear.

Emulator Mind could disappear.

Something could happen to him.

Maybe one day he would wake up and discover that the impossible clarity he had relied upon for years had vanished.

So he created backups.

Not ordinary backups.

Backups of himself.

And because those files could potentially expose the truth of his reincarnation—or allow someone to obtain decades of future ideas—Zaboru had spent an embarrassing amount of time making sure nobody could access them.

He had studied reverse engineering, encryption, security architecture, and intrusion techniques far beyond what he normally needed for game development. The folder was protected with multiple layers of encryption, authentication, hidden partitions, and protections he constantly improved whenever he discovered a new weakness.

Even ZAGE's best engineers would struggle to open it without him.

And whenever he worked inside the folder, he always made sure nobody else was around.

Ayumi included.

Zaboru looked at his wife again.

For several seconds he actually considered telling her.

Not showing her the folder.

Telling her the truth.

That he had lived once before.

That another world existed inside his memories.

That many of the impossible ideas people associated with Zaboru Renkonan were not born entirely from genius, but from experiences he had carried with him from another life.

Ayumi was his wife.

The mother of his children.

The person he trusted more than almost anyone in the world.

If there was anyone who deserved to know, it was probably her.

His expression changed.

Ayumi immediately noticed.

The teasing disappeared from her face.

Zaboru reached over and gently placed both hands on her shoulders.

"Ayumi."

His voice was different now.

Serious.

Completely serious.

Ayumi's wet-eyed performance vanished almost immediately.

Zaboru looked directly into her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I really can't show you that folder."

Ayumi remained silent.

"This isn't because I don't trust you," Zaboru continued. "And there's nothing weird inside it. No woman, no secret family, nothing like that."

Ayumi gave the smallest smile.

"But this is different from my normal work." Zaboru tightened his hands around her shoulders slightly. "There are things inside that folder that I genuinely can't let anyone see. Not you. Not Dad. Not Mom. Not anyone at ZAGE."

Ayumi could immediately tell how serious he was.

Zaboru almost never spoke to her this way.

He was not teasing.

He was not dodging the question because he wanted to surprise her later.

He actually meant it.

Zaboru exhaled slowly. "And I know saying that probably makes you even more curious."

Ayumi smiled faintly. "A little."

"A lot."

"A lot."

Zaboru smiled briefly, but the seriousness remained. "Then I'm asking you properly. Please. Just this one thing."

He paused.

"Let it go."

Ayumi studied his face for several seconds.

The jealousy she had once felt years ago was completely gone. She trusted him. And now, seeing how seriously he was asking, she understood that continuing to push would no longer be playful.

So Ayumi nodded.

"Okay."

Zaboru blinked slightly.

Ayumi smiled. "I won't ask anymore."

He visibly relaxed.

"But…"

Zaboru sighed immediately.

Ayumi chuckled. "Just one thing."

"What?"

"Promise me that one day you'll tell me."

Zaboru became quiet again.

Ayumi did not push further. She simply looked at him and waited.

"One day," she said gently. "It doesn't have to be now. It doesn't have to be soon. But if there ever comes a time when you can tell me what's inside… tell me."

Zaboru looked at her for a long moment.

Then he sighed.

"Okay."

Ayumi's smile widened.

"One day," Zaboru said. "I promise."

Ayumi nodded happily. "That's enough."

Zaboru gave her a small smile before turning back toward his monitor.

Within less than a minute, he had already returned to his usual working rhythm. Code appeared across one screen, design notes opened on another, and soon he was muttering quietly to himself while modifying something Ayumi did not completely understand.

Ayumi rested comfortably beside him, one hand over her stomach, watching her husband enter working mode once again.

She was still curious.

Extremely curious.

But she had no intention of breaking the promise she had just made.

And somewhere behind several layers of encryption, hidden inside ZABORU ONLY, an entire world that did not belong to this timeline remained safely locked away.

For now.

To be continued.