WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Omniscient First-Person's Viewpoint

Chapter 252

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The Land of Steel and the Faceless Humans - 1

Fortunately, the collaborator story did not end in the ironic way where the infiltrator had actually been caught and exploited. The princess flailed her hands and swore the collaborator had truly infiltrated on a Resistance mission, burned with revenge against the military state, and that she had even seen his face herself.

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

The alchemic steel refinery, a place where steel and human screams could be heard together.

We arrived there.

Clang. Clang.

Dry, searing sounds rang out. It was molten alchemic steel being refined into ingots.

Since the military state had communications officers, news of our attack had probably spread across the country. Other places pulled troops or locked their gates in emergency response, but this place alone felt like an island. Not because it was quiet, but because it was detached and indifferent to whatever happened outside.

Even when an unregistered motor carriage arrived at the factory entrance, not a single guard, not even a laborer, showed their face. It was almost disappointing. Only the screams of steel echoing from every direction insisted on what this place was.

"...Tch. This place is grim every time I come. We should just pass by."

The regressor muttered with clear disgust, then spotted a shadow fidgeting in front of the door. Obviously suspicious, the figure lingered there for a moment, then strode toward us after noticing us.

The regressor reflexively raised her sword, then lowered it again when she saw not a trace of hostility or caution on the other side.

"Someone's coming from up ahead. Doesn't look like an enemy. Is this the Resistance collaborator?"

Siati answered for her.

Siati showed a rare expression of relief. He seemed to be one of the few people she still had left, beyond her obsession with destroying the military state. She moved toward the man, showing her welcome despite her battered body.

Three steps before they met, to prepare for any possibility and to remember that day, Siati checked the code phrase they had agreed on.

"Where are we?"

The man stopped as well and answered.

"Still beneath that riverbed."

"You made it, Kerafald."

"You too, Siati."

Certain of each other, they briefly bumped shoulders in greeting. It lasted only a moment, but the contact carried the affection of people who had faced death together.

At least on Siati's side, that feeling was unwavering.

After the short greeting, the man called Kerafald looked over the people behind Siati.

"I see a lot of people who aren't Resistance. Are they our collaborators?"

"No. We're the collaborator side."

"What? What kind of situation is this... Wait. Those two?"

After seeing my face and Historia's, the man acted startled.

He had an almost excessively neat face. Handsome, if you put it kindly; featureless, if you did not. The kind of face you would fail to remember after one night's sleep. That blurry-faced man painted expression after expression onto a blank page.

After greeting Siati as if they had known each other forever, he rolled his eyes and came toward us.

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

One surprise followed another.

Despite how warmly he greeted this unexpected reunion, Historia looked displeased.

'I barely kept you alive under that riverbed, and you snuck into a death trap like this. Are all of you that desperate to die? Why do you keep...'

To Historia, the people she could not save were regrets, and the people she did save were hard-won results she had barely managed to secure. So watching those results run around trying to turn back into regret could only infuriate her.

Mouth twisted, Historia avoided his gaze and walked past him. The man pulled back his awkwardly extended hand and glared at her.

"She really hasn't changed at all. Historia still acts like we don't exist, like she can't see us. Must be nice, really."

...As if he knew Historia well, he grumbled. I defended her in place of Historia, who had left without a word.

"She's not pretending not to see you. She's letting it slide. From Ria's position, the Resistance are people she should arrest."

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

The man huffed.

A perfectly fitting attitude for someone "Kerafald-like." Narrow-mindedness that sorted people through childish binaries. Petty weakness that leaned on other people's goodwill while demanding even more.

After showing every trait of a mean-spirited small man, obvious to anyone looking, he soon turned a friendly smile on me.

"Anyway, Hui, it's really been a while. Knowing you're here makes me feel secure."

Then he greeted me like someone who knew me, smiling warmly. He even added a kind self-introduction in case I failed to recognize him.

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

'I'm Kerafald. Hameln's last survivor. A Resistance member, and the guide who will lead them.'

Of course I remembered Kerafald.

He had been one of the few children who survived Hameln. He was an aspiring arcane officer, ambitious and talented, but unfortunately he had a monster named Rancart as his classmate.

A light too strong blinds the eyes. If he had pursued a different path, he might have become an officer, but with his narrow vision, he never escaped Rancart's giant shadow and failed out.

Right. I knew him.

But.

"That day, you disappeared without a word. Chento was disappointed, and Siati was furious. But I knew. I knew you couldn't stay with the military state. I was sure the day would come when you joined us, just like when we defeated Nicholas together!"

'Immerse yourself in the role. Be faithful to the part. And fool {me}. I am Kerafald.'

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

Who are you?

People who strongly insist they are themselves are rare, aside from philosophers bored with life. This man did not even resemble Kerafald's face.

He was not Kerafald.

But everyone recognized him as Kerafald.

Even Siati, who should have been closest to him, and Historia, who had rescued him from beneath the riverbed.

"Kerafald. This isn't the time."

"Huh? The Princess herself is here...?! Siati, what hap-"

"There's a reason. Calm down and listen first, Kerafald."

"Do I look calm? And who are they?"

Cognitive dissonance hit me. Siati, Historia, and the princess clearly recognized him as Kerafald. Even now, their gaze kept layering that identity over his plain face.

But I knew. I could not even be confused.

Because the lunatic claiming to be Kerafald was, paradoxically, strongly aware that he was not Kerafald.

Oh ho. Look at this. He swapped the cover.

His technique was first-rate. Introducing himself the moment he got a chance, naturally listing shared experiences, making people recognize him as Kerafald. That was not the skill of just a year or two.

Creating intimacy. I used that all the time when I ran scams.

The difference was that I could only imitate, while he could even "transform." Without a single exception, everyone saw him as Kerafald, felt him as Kerafald, and acted accordingly.

This was... something close to a mystery.

A truly broken ability. If I had been given that power, scamming people would have been much easier. Life felt unfair in moments like this.

Still, thankfully, I had mind reading.

If I had failed to see through him, we would have followed something imitating Kerafald straight into a trap.

Like the siren of legend luring sailors with song, like the mimic in fairy tales baiting travelers with treasure. We would definitely have followed this being that came wearing a friend's face.

Now then, what should I do?

"All right. Decided."

"Huh?"

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

He was Kerafald.

He was Kerafald.

He was Zikhrund wearing Kerafald's shell.

No, let's not read that far. That would reveal I noticed.

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

The darkness needed for stars to shine. The dark matter that exists but does not appear. Not the Night Watchman, Yeonggwe Zikhrund.

He was my old friend Kerafald, who survived Hameln, became Resistance, endured a long infiltration, and was happy it had finally borne fruit.

"...I had a rough guess from when I saw Siati, but it really was you, Kerafald. It's good to see so many familiar faces again after so long."

It was not good to see him. He was a stranger. Even so, I put on the bright smile of someone reuniting with an old friend and boasted to "Kerafald."

"Sorry, but I will take the honor of breaking the military state first."

The version of me you expect to see. I will imitate it exactly as you expect.

When are people most off guard?

When they are sleeping deeply?

When they are admiring beautiful scenery?

No.

Right before they bite through their prey's throat, when every bit of tension melts away and they sink into inevitable satisfaction.

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

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