WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

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◈ Omniscient First-Person's Viewpoint

Chapter 261

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The Land of Steel and the Faceless Humans - 10

How did I see through Zikhrund's identity? Needless to say, mind reading. Even as one of the Six Generals, Zikhrund took the lead and joined the operation himself, so from my perspective he was basically a staff officer glued to my side, kindly walking me through the plan.

But there was a problem.

I couldn't expose him without explaining my mind reading.

Zikhrund's transformation wasn't a Mystery. It was a combination of morphic transformation art that alters the body's structure with energy, the military state's intelligence capabilities, and all-out acting. He may have borrowed a few methods from Mystery, but the technique itself was a craft built entirely on human skill.

That's why neither the regressor nor Tyr noticed anything strange about him. The biggest reason, of course, was that they didn't even know who Kerafald was.

Same with me. I hadn't met Kerafald in years, either. If I forcefully claimed he was actually a disguised Six General, they'd at least hear me out, but in the end that suspicion would come right back to me.

So why take that risk? I could just lure him out.

As planned, he took the bait. The moment I sent Tyr away, Zikhrund targeted me and made the gamble of his life. Prepared to have his disguise exposed, he transformed into Historia and attacked us.

Good. This part worked. Now it was time to rip off his mask.

"How did I know? That's backward. We're the ones who should be shocked right now. Who are you to be wearing Historia's face and body?"

As I said, his appearance was identical to Historia's. So identical that even Historia herself couldn't spot the difference.

Standing in front of me like she was shielding me, Historia scanned the enemy on instinct, yet still looked deeply unsettled.

"It's not just the face and body. The combat techniques, the energy... they're very close to mine. I can't say there's no difference, but..."

"From the outside, you can't tell, right?"

Having someone copy your very self was a serious hit to pride. It meant there was a substitute for you.

'Historia' smiled as if mocking herself and said confidently,

"I don't mind telling you. But first, I want an answer."

Wearing Historia's face and body, Zikhrund spun once in place. Languid expression, soft lines, yet a crisp, disciplined motion that didn't match. Then he asked me,

"My transformation should have been perfect. So how did you tell me apart?"

"You did look very similar. But close friends like Historia and me can sense each other's vibe, you know? That's how I found you-"

"No. You didn't waver for even a moment. There's always a gap between the reaction of someone who knows and someone who doesn't. Your response clearly skipped over that split-second gap."

'Historia' walked toward me at an easy pace. Each step was light but steady. It looked like Historia's walk... but to me, it looked slightly grotesque.

"My transformation was perfect. Face, hair, height, frame, even expression and tone of voice. I copied every part. The inside may be different, but from the outside there's no way to tell. Yet you noticed."

"Your confidence is impressive. Then maybe the inside was different. We could've set up code words or marks between us, couldn't we?"

"Even if you had signs only the two of you could recognize, you'd still need time to check them. But your eyes didn't pause anywhere. Unless you have something hidden, that's impossible."

I did have something hidden: mind reading. And because I happened to read the mind of someone acting, I could tell right away.

Ordinary people don't live while consciously managing every breath. They walk as their bodies move; they don't calculate stride length and weight distribution each step. That's not a goal you force. It's the natural result of a body moving naturally.

But Zikhrund calculates and reproduces all of it. Gestures, footsteps, voice, movement routes, even the surroundings. He uses every muscle in precise detail to recreate it. His craft is so close to principle that ordinary people can't distinguish performance from reality and accept it as real.

But from my perspective, it felt like a walking script with the title Historia pasted on it and stage directions written in detail.

The face was Historia's. But the one performing her, more than anyone, knew it was all an act and knew his real name was Zikhrund. So to me, he never looked like Historia.

"Something hidden? Of course I have something."

But I couldn't reveal that I used mind reading. I'd rather reveal almost anything else.

So how should I explain this... Right. Times like this call for one thing.

"It's love."

"...?!"

I decided to blur it with a word you can slap onto anything. Historia was staring at me like I was insane, but I ignored her and shamelessly continued.

"You're lacking love. That's all. If you had enough love, you'd see the difference clearly. At the level Ria and I are at, we can spot something off from the smallest gesture."

"That's a lie."

Busted!

Wait. How are you so sure? You don't even have mind reading. Don't act certain about whether I'm lying when you're a non-mind-reader. I pushed forward shamelessly.

"Prove it."

"Love is an emotion, not a method. It can't answer how. And more than that, you..."

Trailing off, Zikhrund steadied himself again. In his head, he constructed an imagined Historia and immersed himself in it.

'The last survivor of Hameln. She rose steadily and became one of the Six Generals, but that wasn't success, only a continuation of failure. She moved alone, without an adjutant, and never made a family. Her heart is still stuck in the past. Enough to abandon her Six General position and turn back to old ghosts...'

He formed a personality similar to present-day Historia and internalized it. He changed his voice, then overlaid subtle gestures and intonations he'd observed from her.

'But he never came to find Historia. Even though he surely knew she'd become one of the Six Generals. The weight of emotion is different. It's tilted elsewhere. Then the action Historia would take here is...'

Not perfectly identical, but more than enough to look identical. That was Zikhrund's method.

Zikhrund became 'Historia' again.

"Liar! You never took me seriously for a second! Hui, you didn't come looking for me even once in the last six years!"

Those were clearly 'Historia's words, but the real Historia standing in front of me clutched her chest in painful agreement. She stood there silently protecting me, yet looked relieved that 'Historia' had spoken what was in her heart.

If she admitted it herself, everything would be exposed.

"And now you say love? Cut the nonsense! You've never even thought of me!"

"It's not nonsense. If you look with love, the differences are obvious."

"What differences?!"

Damn. If this turned into a battle of evidence, I was at a disadvantage since most of my clues depended on mind reading. Any excuse I could use?

It didn't even have to be true. If I could stop the other side from even thinking of a rebuttal, I won. Let's see... was there any visible feature I could use...?

Huh? Wait. Maybe that could work.

"The bounce was different."

"...Bounce? Of what?"

"Here. This."

I tapped my chest.

Both Historia and 'Historia' tilted their heads, unable to process my absurd answer right away.

Whatever. I'd call it privacy and accuse anyone who pointed it out of being rude.

"The real Historia was tied up for days, right? Bound hard enough to restrain a Six General. Her upper body and chest were tightly compressed. So the movement has this slightly pressed-down feel. But the fake one, yours, moved too normally. The difference was obvious. No way I could miss it."

Maybe my answer was too out of nowhere. Even 'Historia,' who usually played along with my lines, hesitated and trailed off. After a brief pause, he realized the blind spot.

"...You're right. I didn't account for that."

"Of course not. Like I've been saying, you only see it with love."

"So that's what you meant by love... I couldn't reflect Historia's recent condition."

"Even if you had, do you really think you could've picked out that tiny difference so precisely? Only someone with eyesight on my level can do that."

"Both of you, shut up!"

Historia instantly turned and kicked my leg. Her combat boot dug in, and the impact felt like a heavy rope yanking me down. I flung both arms up and collapsed in an ugly heap.

Historia stood with one arm covering her chest and glared down at me, her face mixed with shame and contempt.

"You pervert bastard. You're a prisoner, so I tried to ignore how sensitive you were being on purpose...!"

But my lie fooled our side before it fooled the enemy. Damn. The flow was broken. At this rate, I might've been able to keep deceiving him.

"...Plausible. But still a polished lie."

Like how lukewarm water feels cold after hot water, emotions are relative too. Because our Historia got more flustered than necessary, 'Historia' regained his composure.

"Historia used precision qi control to push her body to its limit and endure the aftereffects of energy. Her body wouldn't be damaged just from being tied up for a few days."

"So you caught that. Honestly, that alone would've been hard to use to distinguish you."

"Still, it was a blind spot. We hadn't yet received information that she was recently captured and kept tightly bound... More than that, you did well to stay quiet while tied up."

"You couldn't deny the possibility I mentioned either, could you? Ria and I were together these past few days. We may have created signs only we could recognize. Not codes or marks, but something only the two of us would notice."

"Of course I can't deny that possibility. But it's very unlikely."

"Why? You don't know what happened during the days Ria was captured by us."

Even at my sharp point, 'Historia' didn't bite. He answered clearly.

"If you'd shared some private signal, Historia wouldn't be reacting that defensively."

This wasn't going to be easy. I kept pressing.

"That's still just a possibility. It isn't evidence."

"Like your claim."

Tch. So he really was still a Six General who'd served as head of the military state's Public Safety Bureau. He wasn't going to fall for things as easily as others. Any other explanation...?

"Hui! How long are you two going to keep talking? We don't have time for a friendly chat!"

Historia, who'd ended up overhearing us talking behind her back, forced her way into the conversation.

"I'll handle me-no, that thing. You get out of here first."

"Will you be okay without my help?"

"I'm confident one-on-one. I don't lose easily. And Hui, you're powerless. Even if you stay, you won't be much help in a fight-"

"Wrong, Historia. If you're this naive, I can't trust you with intelligence warfare."

'Historia' cut in over her.

"I asked, didn't I? How did he recognize me? He couldn't give a proper reason. Naturally. He probably doesn't have one."

"So what?"

"Certainty without cause. A fate that always wins at gambling. Mystery."

With a strange smile, 'Historia' spread his fingers and started explaining like a teacher instructing a child.

"Seeing the future. Or reading the past. Following a person's fate, or chains of causality. Seeing and hearing things a thousand ri away. Drawing miracles from belief and faith. Power that does not come from humans, power that falls outside common sense like a miracle-we call that Mystery."

"...I know."

"If you know, then why don't you suspect him?"

Boots clicking, 'Historia' stepped back a little. Half-buried in the darkness of the control room, he folded his fingers one by one.

"He played the pipe in Hameln. Countless children died, and those who witnessed it lost trust in the military state. He worked in secret in the capital, then fell into Tantalus. There, he joined hands with the monsters sleeping inside and rose in revolt to topple the military state. And now, he's nearly succeeded."

"That wasn't Hui's doing. He just got swept up in it..."

"Do you really think so?"

'Historia' covered his face with one hand. As he slowly dragged it down from forehead to chin, the face that had clearly been Historia's changed in an instant.

The cheekbones jutted out, the muscles reshaped. The skin tightened into the sickly pallor of someone long deprived of sunlight. Historia's expression vanished. In its place came a hollow bravado, as if trying to compensate for lacking ability with oversized self-regard.

"Kerafald... so it really was you in disguise."

It was Kerafald's face.

'Kerafald' muttered and slotted a clothing packet into his biometric terminal.

"Now then. Suppose he has Mystery. Then everything is explained. The Pied Piper knew from the beginning that I wasn't Kerafald. No-he even saw through the fact that this refinery was a trap."

At the same time, the firm, healthy female body gradually changed into a weaker male one. The shirt that had been stretched full slowly flattened, and the proud shoulders drew inward. The clothing packet shifted, and Historia's shirt became a labor-site supervisor's uniform.

His skeleton and flesh hadn't changed completely. He'd only arranged things to look that way on the outside.

When precision qi control, which infuses energy into the body, reaches a high level, muscle, bone, flesh, even organs can be compressed or expanded at will.

"It's impossible for an ordinary gifted man with no power to pull this off. He has Mystery. Some Mystery close to omniscience, or precognition."

After that near-transformation process, Zikhrund's appearance was unmistakably Kerafald's.

Of course, to me, Zikhrund's real face was still flickering underneath.

"That's my conclusion. Well, Pied Piper?"

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