WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint ◈

Chapter 114: Episode 22 — Three Promises (6)

The last look on Kim Nam-woon’s face still clung to me like an after-image, but I hadn’t come here to rescue the guy, so there was nothing I could do about it.

The Judge of the Underworld, who had no legs, floated up the stone steps as silently as a ghost. Along the way several symbolic bodies that looked rather high-ranked watched me with curious eyes, perhaps constellations who lodged in Hades’ palace, perhaps not. Being here didn’t automatically make one a constellation.

Sensing my sideways glances, the judge spoke without turning.

[If you fall behind, you’ll lose your way.]

The voice rasped like metal on metal, setting my stomach on edge, but the advice was sound.

While keeping half an eye on the judge I tilted my head back and whispered up toward the ceiling.

‘Hey, you listening?’

A murmur quiet enough that the judge couldn’t hear.

‘I know you’re on the line.’

I was curious, this was Hades’ Underworld, not the surface. Would a dokkaebi channel still work down here?

—…Yes. I’m watching.

Dokkaebi comms. The voice wasn’t Bihyeong’s.

‘A new dokkaebi?’

—Correct. I’m the low-level dokkaebi Yeonggi. Elder Bihyeong had to step out for Bureau business, so

I’m covering his channel.

So it really was that rookie who’d been stuck handling reward settlement earlier. I got straight to the point.

‘Aren’t you doing your job?’

—P-pardon?

‘The Hidden Scenario updated, why didn’t you tell me?’

I’m down here in hell, the least I deserve is to collect my rewards.

—Ah, w-well, that is…!

Judging by the panic he really was a newbie.

It hit me again how competent Bihyeong actually was, I’d always thought he was just a slacker.

After about ten seconds of silence Yeonggi stammered.

—E-excuse me…

‘What now?’

—How do you update a scenario?

I was momentarily speechless.

‘What kind of dokkaebi asks an incarnation that?’

—Elder Bihyeong said if I wasn’t sure I should ask Kim Dokja-ssi…

So the punk had dumped a problem child on me before he left?

—J-just a moment! I’ll ask another dokkaebi. Ah, and…

‘…And what?’

—Sorry, but may I display the backlog of “indirect messages”? This is my first temp assignment…

I nodded reluctantly, never thought I’d miss Bihyeong. An avalanche of messages slammed into my head.

[The constellation God of Wine and Ecstasy delights in your predicament.]

[The constellation Prisoner of the Golden Headband is thrilled by your adventure.]

[The constellation Secretive Plotter is dying to see how you escape.]

[The constellation Demonic Judge of Fire prays you will return safely to your comrades.]

…

Figures, every constellation out there was watching me make a fool of myself.

Some, at least, were impressed.

[The constellation One-eyed Maitreya marvels at the palace of the Underworld.]

[The constellation Bald Patriot General is shocked by the Underworld’s scenery.]

[The constellation Bald Patriot General has begun to doubt his own faith.]

…

For historical-grade constellations this must be a rare sight. Not everyone gets invited to Hades’ stronghold.

[You have been gifted 12,000 coins.]

Twelve thousand coins just for showing them the palace—nice haul. Strictly speaking I was streaming from a no-camera zone…

I don’t know how long we walked before the silent judge spoke again.

[We have arrived.]

Hinges creaked and a door swung open onto a banquet hall. The room was too dark to see clearly, but when the judge vanished and the door shut, a small flame flared at the centre of the gloom, revealing an old-fashioned oval table waiting just for me.

The table was so large it could have served an emperor; black velvet cloth and dishes that made my mouth water filled every inch, and at the far end sat a woman looking my way.

[How amusing. A living soul in this palace is a rarity, and you’ve even dragged along those distasteful spectators. Today really will be special.]

I knew at once who she was.

In Hades’ castle there was only one being who could sit at the mistress’s seat. Bowing, I spoke.

“It is an honour, Queen of the Darkest Spring.”

The Queen of the Darkest Spring, Persephone, sovereign of the Underworld and wife of Hades.

[So you know my epithet. A courteous incarnation indeed.]

“You flatter me.”

[More curious still, even after hearing my true name, your soul does not waver.]

Now that she mentioned it, I felt nothing, though I had heard a constellation’s true name straight on.

Persephone was at least fabled level.

Ordinarily the gap in rank would have blasted my soul apart the instant I heard her speak, listening to the historical-grade Kim Yu-sin had nearly killed me not long ago.

[The exclusive skill Fourth Wall has strongly activated.]

First time a system message had ever used the word “strongly”. Maybe my subconscious was coping by labeling this even less real.

[Please, sit, incarnation Kim Dokja.]

Grateful for the courtesy, I sat opposite her. I hadn’t expected such a welcome. I let my eyes wander over the dishes—an extravagant spread far too much for two.

“The King of the Dead…?”

[His Majesty is displeased by your unannounced visit. It will be better if you discuss your business with me.]

So that’s how it is.

I had expected as much, one of the three great Olympians wouldn’t grant an audience to a lone incarnation on a whim, and unlike Orpheus I couldn’t soothe him with a lyre.

“If it is not impertinent, may I ask one question first?”

[Ask.]

“Is that Your Majesty’s true body?”

[Of course not. This is merely a symbolic body. My real body would shatter a mere human.]

I studied the “symbolic body” she wore. She looked like a shabby old crone.

…Someone has an awful sense of humour.

I couldn’t help thinking about it.

[So old women aren’t to your taste?]

“That’s not the issue.”

Whether she looked like a grandmother or a grandfather didn’t matter, the problem was that this grandmother was the very one I’d failed to save in the subway during the First Scenario.

[If it bothers you I could adopt another form.]

Her figure warped into Yu Sangah, but not the usual Sangah. A sheer black cheongsam[1], garter belt, smoky eyes… I had nowhere to look, so I turned my head.

“Please, the grandmother will do.”

Persephone ignored me, of course.

[Time is short. Let’s get to the point.]

“If that pleases Your Majesty.”

[I heard a little from Dionysus, but the story carries more weight from your own lips.]

I nodded, took a breath, and laid everything out.

“I wish to reclaim someone’s soul. I am prepared for the transaction.”

[A soul… That brings back memories.]

She lowered her shimmering eyelids and seemed to ponder.

At length her long fingers moved and began slicing the steak on her plate. I waited with what patience I could muster.

The dissection was unhurried.

The fork pinned the muscle, the knife slid back and forth with care, separating meat from tendon, red juices pearled on the clean cut. The fork lifted the morsel.

Persephone looked as though she couldn’t decide whether to eat.

As though she had forgotten all about my request.

Just as impatience made me open my mouth, she spoke first—

Not to eat.

[In this world there is no such thing as a “soul”.]

Souls do not exist. A statement modern physicists would accept, but this was a god speaking, one who had long defended the logic of souls.

“Plato and Aristotle would rise from their graves at that.”

[They are constellations now, they no longer lie in graves.]

“I didn’t come for wordplay.”

[And I am not playing. Incarnation Kim Dokja, souls do not exist. They are a fantasy invented by humans who crave continuity of self.]

“Then what are the people of the Underworld? If they’re not souls, what are they?”

Instead of answering she pointed at the steak she had cut.

[They are this.]

Slowly, the piece of meat disappeared between her lips. She chewed for a long time, savouring it; crimson juice shone on her mouth.

[Mmm. Top-grade. Won’t you try?]

An identical steak lay before me. I stared at it, then said.

“I must refuse.”

[Is that deliberate discourtesy?]

“Yes. I apologise, but I must be rude.”

No doubt it tasted sublime—the original novel spent twelve pages describing it—but the passage ended with a single line:

“Yu Junghyeok regretted eating it until the round ended.”

Anyone who ate Underworld fare could never return topside.

Persephone laughed as if she’d read my mind.

[Life down here isn’t as dreadful as you imagine. Most of the rumours are false. With the king’s leave you can visit the surface any time, think of it as a career soldier’s life.]

“Military service is my worst memory, Your Majesty.”

[Really? The males of your land often say, ‘Maybe I’ll just sign on permanently,’ so I assumed it wasn’t that bad.]

Why did a foreign goddess know Korean men so well? Persephone went on.

[Incarnation Kim Dokja, you would receive treatment beyond your imagination.]

“The sergeant who tried to make me an NCO said something similar.”

[But did he offer you steak like mine? That slab before you, do you know what happens if you eat it?]

“I imagine I’d taste beef.”

[You could become a Sword Master right now.]

She said it so calmly I thought I’d misheard.

A Sword Master was a peak that returnees reached only after years of training in another world.

[The pasta beside it? Eat that and you’ll become an Archmage who could subjugate a continent.]

…That pasta?

[The soup? Of course it makes one an SSS-grade Hunter.]

This wasn’t a royal feast, it was a Table of Fortuitous Encounters.

My throat bobbed. One bite of that meat and I’d surpass the current Yu Junghyeok.

[Will you still not eat?]

I raised my fork and speared a slice. The instant the tines sank into the flesh, strange scenes flashed before my eyes, the memories of a man practising the sword alone.

「You mustn’t grow weak. Master the blade.」

「Work harder, harder, become stronger.」

「I… I finally did it! I did it! I really did!」

Fragmentary images. Startled, I set the fork down.

What I’d pierced wasn’t beef.

“Don’t tell me this is…?”

Persephone nodded.

[Yes. This little piece of meat,that is everything humans believe to be a soul.]

She cheerfully ate another bite. Only then did her earlier words sink in.

“…These are the memories of the man who was that Sword Master.”

[Memories? No. To be precise…]

She paused, searching for the exact word.

[A story.]

The way she licked her lips while looking at me sent a chill through my bones.

[The food constellations love the most.]

Footnotes:

[1] Cheongsam or zansae, also known as the qipao and sometimes referred to as the mandarin gown, is a Chinese dress worn by women which takes inspiration from the qizhuang, the ethnic clothing of the Manchu people.

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