WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 161: Evening in the Military State

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Following the flow of people, we soon came upon a huge factory on the outskirts of District 15. It was one of the clothing packet factories found in every city.

The enormous factory continuously swallowed people whole. There was no going against the current now. Caught in the stream, the captain and I were swept into the factory.

It was a garment factory that processed alchemical fabric into clothing packets.

An extremely labor-intensive facility. Countless people had to work on the alchemical fabric, and if even one stage slowed for a moment, it disrupted every step after it. No matter how many hands they had, it was never enough.

In other words, it was the kind of place that welcomed even day laborers.

"...So you want to work here just for today?"

The work supervisor overseeing the laborers frowned as he looked between the captain and me. I answered with a bright smile.

"That's right."

"Seriously. You stroll in here with a woman on your arm, and this is what you say..."

The supervisor grumbled, dissatisfied and clearly considering how much he could shortchange us. Still, the captain, who was at least properly dressed, caught his interest.

Pretending otherwise, he glanced at her and spoke.

"You aren't expecting normal wages for a one-day job, are you? You'll get seventy percent of the usual daily pay. Hey, you, go to Rail Seven and follow instructions. And you, miss, you'd be perfect as a model. Go to the fitting room and try on clothing packet samples."

It shouldn't have mattered whom he assigned. If anything, using Aki avatars would have been better than using people. The fact that he specifically singled out the captain told me exactly what he wanted.

Well then. How should I respond?

While I briefly considered it, the captain shook her head without a moment's hesitation.

"I refuse."

"Refuse? Did you just say refuse?"

"Affirmative. This office must manage that man, or perform equivalent supervision. Therefore, this office cannot remain apart from him for an extended period."

The captain said it as though it were an unquestionable truth.

Such an open refusal displeased the supervisor, who held a certain degree of power in this district.

'Some lower-class citizen who came here for a day job is holding her head high in front of me? Me, a Level Two citizen whose abilities were recognized enough to be made a supervisor? She must not know fear... Wait. She doesn't know fear?'

And with that, the person responsible for putting him in a supervisor's seat proved his competence.

'That rigid attitude. That peculiar way of speaking. Could she be... an officer?'

Sensing danger, the supervisor's mind began racing.

It was a factory, but a technician dispatched from the military state was still in charge. Since it was a large factory near the city, the dispatched technician held a fairly high rank, but they were still only a technician, at most officer grade.

Compared to a technician at officer grade, a field-grade officer in the military state, one directly deployed in war, was literal military strength.

And he was only a supervisor appointed by a technician. Nothing more than a steward entrusted with authority.

He was not in a position where a mere Level Two citizen could dare oppose her.

'Don't think, "No way." You idiot! Someone showing up out of nowhere at a time like this and making bizarre demands can't be normal! Always assume the worst and act accordingly!'

Having snapped himself awake, the supervisor suddenly put on a far more solemn expression.

"Then it can't be helped. I'll assign you together. Go to Rail Seven."

The military state was still a place where people lived, so there might have been fools who did not know their place and abused the authority given to them.

Those people usually ended up dragged off to labor camps first.

"If you have enough mana to operate an Aki avatar, I'll assign you to that work. Laborers with mana are valuable. Can you do it?"

"I've never done it before, but I can use magic."

"Then you should be able to. Here, channel mana into this Aki avatar."

The supervisor politely gestured to the human-shaped mold, an Aki avatar that looked like a mannequin.

The captain was a captain, and a mage capable of both standardized and innate magic. There was no way she could fail to operate an Aki avatar.

The moment she placed a hand on it, blue lines appeared along the mannequin-like Aki avatar. Following those center lines, the alchemical fabric covering it unraveled strand by strand and drew inward.

Before long, the fabric that had covered its entire body was woven and compressed into one small packet.

A swift transformation that only someone with ample mana could produce.

The supervisor swallowed.

'Fuck. That's mana on the level of a proper mage.'

He raised the papers to cover his face and pretended to scribble something down. He did not want the captain to see his face any longer than necessary.

"At this level, you can manage a rail by yourselves. Go to Rail Eleven. They'll understand if you say you're taking the avatars."

'That was close. Someone who can use magic like that can't be an ordinary person. No, even if she was, someone with talent like that could reach a higher level than me. Good thing I had the model excuse ready, or I might have...'

The supervisor broke out in a cold sweat.

What a smart fellow. I wished my friend Anton were half as sharp.

I approached the man desperately avoiding my gaze, bent slightly, and whispered into his ear.

"You're lucky, Supervisor. You got the right answer."

Even knowing he had guessed correctly, he could not feel happy about it. He only desperately wished we would leave as quickly as possible.

As I walked out and closed the door, I heard his thoughts through the gap.

'...I should stay careful from now on.'

The work was simply hard.

Countless people stood along both sides of an ordinary conveyor belt. When alchemical fabric was placed before them, the laborers cut or folded it according to their assigned roles, then passed it to the next person.

Once the alchemical fabric had gradually taken the form of clothing after passing through so many hands, it reached the captain and me. I dressed the avatar in it and sent the signal.

The captain then used mana to turn the clothes into packets and placed them into boxes.

Before I knew it, we had finished our hundredth clothing packet.

After closing the lid of a box filled with packets, I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

Who was I? Why was I here?

I definitely had not been born to do this kind of work. I had graduated from playing with dolls ages ago. Why was I still dressing dolls?

Yet the conveyor belt kept moving, and the work showed no sign of ending. More fabric kept pouring toward us.

Unable to bear it any longer, I secretly called to the captain.

"Whew. It's pretty hard, isn't it? How about we do enough and run?"

"Negative. This is entirely bearable."

The captain showed no sign of fatigue.

No, she was tired, but her eyes shone as she focused even more intently on the task.

'It is fulfilling. This is far better than sitting still in a windowless room and connecting to a golem. Whenever this office completes a task and fills a box, the meaning of this work seems to settle in little by little.'

Ah. I had not considered that.

The captain was a communications officer who had endured harsher labor than any factory could offer, all by herself.

She had never shown it, but she even possessed enough mana to synchronize continuously with a synchro-type golem for about an entire day. The military state treated her strangely, but she was still an elite in her own way.

'One hundred! What has this office ever piled up one hundred of besides canned beans? This office is a person capable of making one hundred things!'

Military state, I did not know whether you had protected the captain or tried to exploit her, but I knew one thing.

You were awful.

Sighing, I resumed work.

After a tedious stretch of time that seemed to drag at the hands of the clock...

"Avatar team, work is over. Go home now!"

When the supervisor shouted, the laborers handling the avatars looked at him in confusion.

"Isn't this an hour earlier than usual? We could squeeze out a little more..."

'If I'm letting you leave early, just be grateful and go! There's an officer here, an officer! Shouldn't I send the officer home first?!'

Though his true thoughts were entirely different, the supervisor answered calmly.

"Today's mana is thin. We've met the quota thanks to the newcomer, and it would be troublesome if you mana users collapsed. We'll change shifts a little early today."

"Since when did you care about that?"

"Quiet!"

"Even so, if we leave now, what about our pay..."

"I'll pay you in full!"

"Thank you! Goodbye!"

Having gained one precious hour of free time, the laborers poured out like the receding tide.

Supervisor, you really knew how to read the room.

Contrary to his guess, we had only come here to have fun, but there was no need to tell him that.

I called to the captain, who was still busily compressing packets. She glanced regretfully at the box she had not managed to fill.

"What a shame. I had a chance to reach five hundred. An achievement this office may never accomplish again..."

I would say it again. Military state, you were awful.

The sun hung high in the sky but was nearing the point where it would sink beyond the horizon. With time to spare, we collected our pay and left the factory.

Considering day laborers were usually shortchanged, the supervisor had paid us quite generously. It was about double what ordinary laborers received, but the captain had exceeded the quota, so it was not an excessive amount.

The captain, feeling newly proud that she had earned money through her own work, held the alchemical coins against her chest and walked with light steps. She might not have noticed it herself, but her golden hair and skirt bounced lightly with every step.

"Is this your first time earning money? Why are you so happy?"

"This is the first time this office has received pay like this. So this is the weight of money..."

"Oh, right. Soldiers receive their pay in a lump sum from the Veterans Affairs Office, don't they?"

"Affirmative. There is no particular need to spend one's pay while serving in the military..."

Because alchemy existed, no currency other than alchemical coins could exist in this world.

Banknotes and promissory notes could not hold value before alchemy, which could even imitate gold.

The military state, which held the administration of the entire country in its hands, could pay salaries through the Veterans Affairs Office in the form of notes or pensions. The neighboring Lesser States had slaughtered every alchemist in the nation, only for their economy to collapse and the country to be torn apart.

"Come to think of it, Bbi was a captain."

"Negative. This office was not merely a captain. This office was definitively a captain."

"If you saved your money instead of spending it, you must still have quite a lot left."

"Affirmative."

"What do you want to do with that money? Is there nothing you want to achieve?"

Perhaps because she had earned today's wages through sweat and effort, the captain held them dearly and seriously considered my question.

'This office is a Level Three citizen. This office has inheritance rights, but no property to receive, and cannot leave property to future generations. To begin with, there is no one to leave property to. When this office dies, all of it will be incinerated.'

Oh. She had finally reached that thought.

Would she show it now?

Life was resistance. A struggle to protect and preserve my small, fragile universe against a fierce and threatening outside world.

When the living truly lost something of their own, they could not help but resist.

'The military authorities gave this office the money anyway. Even if it is incinerated and returned to the military state, this office will not regret it. If that money can accomplish something better, if it can go to others who were happy over small pieces of good fortune.'

The communications officer did not seem to know any of that.

You were truly, truly awful.

They say even chances come only three times. At this point, was it not about time for you to be destroyed?

'Still, this office is fortunate to remain registered with the facility where this office grew up. If this office dies during a mission, compensation will be paid. It can hardly be called an inheritance, but it will be this office's final gift to the younger children...'

Soldiers were encouraged to marry.

The reason was simple. Property.

If they did not spend it, their property accumulated. Then what happened when they died? It was incinerated.

They could not go to the Veterans Affairs Office, request a lump-sum payment, and hide it somewhere either. If they were caught, it was off to the labor camps.

A household was essential if they wanted to spend their earned pay as it came in. The Veterans Affairs Office did not stop family members from receiving a soldier's salary on their behalf.

That was why many soldiers started families young.

What if they started a family carelessly, then died and could no longer take responsibility? There was no need to worry.

They might have no inheritance, but death compensation would be paid.

An amount greater than most inheritances.

Soldiers who could not help but think about what came after death put all their effort into leaving behind a family.

'Now that I think about it, it is a little regrettable. If this office had married, could this office have left behind more?'

Still, she had brought about at least one positive change.

Leaving something behind.

The smallest desire of someone who had accepted the death that would one day come.

Without realizing it, the captain tasted the heartfelt desire blooming in her chest. Hugging the small amount of money in the envelope close, she answered.

"...That is classified."

I did not ask further. That was enough for today.

We were walking home through streets that were beginning to grow dark.

One corner of the market was in an uproar. The market should have been filled with many lively voices, but today it was full of nothing but confused murmuring.

The gathered people looked around as though seeking help, then suddenly spotted me and shouted at once.

"Hey! Hughes! It's bad!"

After reading their thoughts, I understood what had happened half a beat early, but mind-reading was not especially useful in this case.

"Anna got beaten black and blue...!"

There was no need to read minds. It became obvious immediately.

Pushing through the crowd, we found Anna lying on the ground, bruises covering her face and arms.

Anna, usually so tenacious, lay there with the pale face of a critically ill patient.

I let the captain rush off, her expression changing, then scratched my head as I looked down at Anna, who lay there as though unconscious.

Wow.

Things had really gone to hell while I was gone.

More importantly, who was going to cook?

I had been looking forward to dinner.

Footnotes:

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