WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 252: The Land of Steel and the Faceless Humans - 1

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Thankfully, the collaborator's story did not end with the darkly comic revelation that the infiltrator had actually been caught and exploited. The princess waved her hands frantically, insisting that the collaborator had truly infiltrated under orders from the Resistance, harbored a fierce grudge against the military state, and that she had even seen his face herself.

It was still hard to trust, but our destination was set.

The alchemical steel smelter. A place where steel and human screams could be heard together.

We arrived there.

Clang. Clang.

Dry, heated sounds echoed through the air. It was the sound of molten alchemical steel being refined into ingots.

The military state had communications officers, so word of our attack must have already spread throughout the country. Other places had pulled out troops or locked their gates in a state of emergency, but this place was like an isolated island. Not because it was quiet, but because it was indifferent and unconcerned with whatever happened outside.

Even though an unregistered motor carriage had arrived at the factory entrance, not a single guard or laborer showed their face. It was almost disappointing. Only the shrieks of steel coming from every direction proclaimed what kind of place this was.

"...Tch. This place is unsettling no matter when I come here. We should just pass it by."

The regressor muttered with a sickened expression, then spotted a shadow hesitating in front of the gate. The obviously suspicious figure lingered there before striding toward us upon seeing us.

The regressor reflexively raised her sword, then lowered it again when she saw that the other person showed no hostility or wariness at all.

"Someone's coming from up ahead. They don't seem like an enemy. Are they a Resistance collaborator?"

Siati answered instead.

A rare welcoming expression appeared on Siati's face. This person seemed to be one of the few people she still cared about beyond destroying the military state. Despite her injured body, she approached the man with clear delight.

Three steps before they met, Siati confirmed the code they had agreed upon, both to prepare for the unexpected and to remember that day long ago.

"Where are we?"

The man stopped as well and replied.

"Still beneath that riverbed."

"You made it, Carapald."

"You too, Siati."

Certain of each other, the two briefly pressed their shoulders together in greeting. It only lasted a moment, but there was an affection in that contact that belonged only to those who had faced death together.

At least, Siati's feelings were very firm.

After their brief greeting, the man called Carapald looked over the people following Siati.

"I see plenty of people who aren't with the Resistance. Are they our collaborators?"

"No. We're the collaborators."

"What? What in the world is going on...? Wait. Those two are?"

The man made a show of surprise upon seeing Historia and me.

He had an impressively neat appearance. Handsome, if one were generous, or utterly unremarkable, if not. A man whose face would likely slip from your memory after a night's sleep drew an expression onto his blank features.

Having finished greeting Siati as though they had known each other from the beginning, he looked around and came closer to us.

"Historia? Hui? Is it really you two? How did you get all the way here...?!"

The surprises continued.

Unlike his delight at the unexpected reunion, Historia wore an unhappy expression.

'I barely saved him from beneath that riverbed, and he snuck into a death trap like this. Is everyone that desperate to die? Why do they keep...'

Those Historia had failed to save were her regrets, while those she had saved were achievements she had barely managed to attain. Of course she could not be pleased to see those achievements running around, trying to become regrets.

Historia twisted her mouth and walked past him while avoiding his gaze. The man pulled back his awkwardly extended hand and glared at her.

"You really haven't changed at all. Historia still acts like we don't exist, like she can't see us. How impressive."

...He grumbled as though he knew Historia well. I defended her in place of Historia, who had left without saying a word.

"She's not pretending not to see you. She's letting you go. From Ria's perspective, Resistance members are people she should arrest."

"Even so! What's with that vague attitude? She should make it clear whether she's on the military state's side or ours!"

The man fumed.

Such a fitting attitude for 'Carapald.' The narrow-mindedness of judging others through childish binaries. The pathetic way he relied on another's goodwill while demanding more from them as well.

After acting like an ordinary citizen filled with spite, he soon gave me a friendly smile.

"Still, Hui, it's been a long time. It's reassuring to know you're here."

Then, as though he knew me, he greeted me with a warm smile. He even kindly introduced himself in case I failed to recognize him.

"Ah, you remember me, right? It's me. Carapald!"

'I am Carapald. The last survivor of Hamelin. A member of the Resistance, and the guide who will lead them.'

Of course I remembered Carapald.

He had been one of the few children to survive Hamelin. He had ambition and talent as a prospective arcane officer, but unfortunately, a monster named Lankart had been his classmate.

A light that was too bright blinded the eyes. If he had pursued another path, he might have become an officer, but with his narrow perspective, he could not escape Lankart's enormous shadow and failed out.

Yes. I knew about him.

But.

"That day, you disappeared without saying a word. Chento was disappointed, and Siati was furious about it. But I alone understood. I knew you couldn't live alongside the military state. I was certain that one day, you would join us. Just like when we defeated Nicholas together!"

'Immerse yourself in the role. Remain faithful to the part. And deceive {me}. I am Carapald.'

...I did not know any lunatic who believed he was Carapald.

Who are you?

Only philosophers bored with life held such a strong awareness of themselves as themselves. This man did not even resemble Carapald in the slightest.

He was not Carapald.

Yet everyone recognized him as Carapald.

Siati, who must have been closest to him, and Historia, who had saved him from beneath the riverbed.

"Carapald. This isn't the time."

"Huh? The princess herself is here...?! Siati, what happened?"

"There are reasons for it. Calm down and listen first, Carapald."

"How am I supposed to calm down? And who are they?"

Cognitive dissonance set in. Siati, Historia, and the princess, all of whom knew him, clearly recognized him as Carapald. Even now, their gazes kept overlaying that unremarkable face.

But I knew. I could not possibly be confused.

Because the lunatic claiming to be Carapald, of all people... paradoxically knew with certainty that he was not Carapald.

Oh? Look at this. He had switched out the nameplate.

His skill was first-rate. The way he immediately introduced himself when the opportunity arose, naturally listed the things they had experienced together, and made everyone recognize him as Carapald. This was not the work of a year or two.

Creating familiarity. I used that often when I was scamming people.

The difference was that I could only imitate someone, while he could even undergo transformation. Without a single exception, everyone saw him as Carapald, felt him as Carapald, and acted accordingly.

This was... something close to the mysterious.

That ability was practically cheating. If I had been given that power, I would not have struggled so much when pulling scams. Things like this felt unfair.

Still, I was fortunate. I had mind-reading.

If I had not seen through him, I would surely have followed something imitating Carapald straight into a trap.

Like the sirens of legend who lured sailors with their songs, or the mimics from fairy tales said to hook travelers with treasure. I would certainly have followed this being who came wearing a friend's face.

Now then, what should I do?

"All right. I've decided."

"Hm?"

I had decided. After steadying myself, I mirrored him while reading his mind.

He was Carapald.

He was Carapald.

He was Zikhrund wearing Carapald's identity.

No. I should not read that far. He would realize I had noticed.

He was not Zikhrund... the military state's shadow and the head of the Ministry of Public Safety.

The darkness needed for the stars to shine. Dark matter that existed but was never revealed. Not the night watchman, the Shadow Casket Zikhrund.

He was Carapald, my old friend, who had survived Hamelin, joined the Resistance, endured a long life undercover, and was happy that it had finally borne fruit.

"...I had a rough idea when I saw Siati, but it really was you, Carapald. I'm seeing so many welcome faces after such a long time."

I was not happy to see him. He was a stranger.

Still, smiling brightly as though I had reunited with an old friend, I spoke proudly to 'Carapald.'

"Sorry, but I'll be the first to claim the honor of destroying the military state."

The version of me you believe in. I would imitate exactly what you expected me to say.

When did people let their guard down the most?

When they were sleeping deeply?

When they were admiring a beautiful view?

No.

Just before tearing out their prey's throat. When all tension faded and they were immersed in the inevitable satisfaction of achievement.

The night of hunting, of deceiving and being deceived, had begun.

Footnotes:

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