Never So Shocked

The guy struggled to open the crate, and a blast of frigid air poured out.

Inside, chunks of dark-colored meat, frozen rock-hard, were stacked in neat rows.

The meat was wrapped very simply—just thick, yellowed greaseproof paper, likewise printed with blurry Cyrillic letters and dates.

"????? Are they trying to pull the Japan trick on me?" Ian had excellent eyesight, and even from a distance, he could clearly make out one of the dates—1923.

The satisfied smile on Ian's face instantly froze, his mind buzzing. 1923? Soviet-era markings? Frozen meat? Combined with that unusually tender yet distinctive texture... a word that made his stomach churn suddenly leaped into his mind—zombie meat?!

And this wasn't ordinary zombie meat.

This was the Zombie King among zombie meats!

The Soviet Union had only collapsed a few decades ago in this day and age, yet the meat sold by restaurants in this place was fucking from the early Soviet period!

Wizards were doing the same things as Muggle capitalists!

This meat might have been stored for decades, preserved from rotting by ultra-low temperatures, but its nutritional value and safety had long since been drastically compromised. It might even contain harmful substances!

"Fuck! The wizarding world version of Xibei!" Ian felt as though the delicious bowl of meat soup he had just eaten had turned into a heavy chunk of ice lodged in his stomach. He had even tested the inn's food with alchemical tools before, yet never could he have imagined that in a market in the wizarding world, he would fall victim to a "historical leftover issue" from the Muggle world!

He watched as the guy hauled out another crate of frozen meat in the same style. The proprietress took it with practiced ease and began thawing the ingredients for dinner.

He was