WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint ◈

Chapter 119: Episode 23 — An Abandoned World (4)

I spoke, and the King of Wanderers offered a faint smile.

“‘Long time,’ you say? We saw each other not that long ago.”

“That was only in passing.”

So far I had met the King of Wanderers twice. Once when Han Su-yeong and I took care of the inhuman Song Minwoo, and once when we slew the Catastrophe of Floods.

This made today the third time.

The King of Wanderers slowly removed her mask.

For a moment we simply faced each other. The look was unchanged. No matter how hard I tried, the face before me never looked past the late-thirties.

Mother and I shared no resemblance. When I was small, people even asked if she were a cousin.

“When did you get out?”

“It’s been a while.”

Back when Father was still alive, that is.

“Have you been living in Seoul?”

“I dropped by to see someone.”

“Ah. So you were ‘coincidentally’ locked up inside the Seoul Dome…?”

“That’s right.”

“You were released, so why put the prison garb back on?”

“Who knows. A desire to atone, perhaps?”

“…Atonement? You?”

“Every human is a prisoner, my dear. We all carry our own cell.”

I stared at her. That brazen tone, nothing had changed.

“Not even a single ‘thank you’? You’d have been in trouble without me.”

…That is true. She had dealt with the Catastrophe of the North together with her wanderers.

It had been a weak Catastrophe, yet the feat was real, and I had counted on her.

I hated Mother precisely because I knew her so well.

“After all this time, not even a hint that you’re glad to see me.”

“Do you really expect that?”

“A little.”

[The exclusive Skill Lie Detection Lv.1 has activated!]

[You confirm that the statement is a lie.]

Pathetic, I knew it was a lie, yet still I checked.

“Impressive survival skills, making it through all this.”

“I had your bedtime stories to thank.”

“…So it was that.”

“Who else but you would visit their mother in prison and talk only about some web novel?”

Indeed. During every visit I never spoke to Mother properly.

All I did was babble about Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse, and when that bored me I stopped visiting.

“I had nothing else to say.”

“As if that could be true.”

“That story was my everything.”

For a breath the past flickered and vanished.

Had TWSA never existed—had that author not uploaded day after day—there would have been no Kim Dokja to stand here.

For the teenager with neither mother nor father, that tale had been the lone comfort.

“A third-rate fantasy novel…”

“Seeing how it saved your life, you’d better thank that third-rate novel.”

We fell silent and glared.

[The constellation Prisoner of the Golden Headband watches you with bright interest.]

[The constellation Secretive Plotter studies you with an unreadable gaze.]

[The constellation Demonic Judge of Fire looks at you with sorrow.]

I was first to break the silence.

“What attribute did you gain? I’m guessing it’s tied to the story I told you.”

“Must I tell you?”

“If you still think of me as your son.”

"I wonder if you still think of me as your mother."

“Maybe a little.”

[The character Lee Sukyeong has activated the skill Lie Detection Lv. 1!]

[She has confirmed that the statement is a lie.]

Damn. She already owns that skill, she really is my mother.

A faint sadness crossed her face. Whether it was acting or not, I could not tell.

“Do you still resent me?”

“I’m not here for that.”

“Your father was a bad man.”

“I know.”

Some people are truly ‘bad’.

Among them is the sort who breaks a wife’s bones, gambles away the family fortune, and ruins their children’s lives.

Thus Father was bad. I knew it, Mother knew it, and the law of Korea said so.

But—

“Father being bad doesn’t make what you did right.”

“A better life sometimes demands a sacrifice.”

“There is no law like that. In Korea the only law says murderers go to prison.”

“I see that all that time reading has made you an eloquent speaker.”

“To me life felt more like fiction, because of you.”

By now this was no ordinary mother-son chat.

Perhaps that was why I never wished to speak.

We knew exactly what wounds the other could inflict.

“You know why I came.”

“I wonder.”

“We can both sense lies, so let’s drop the act.”

Mother smiled faintly.

“Prisoner No. 406, the old lady. Lend her to me.”

“…Wouldn’t a wanderer who has Jeon Woochi as patron help you more? I do have several useful incarnations.”

“Jeon Woochi is your right-hand man. The old lady is the one I need.”

Mother studied me, then nodded.

“True, given your opponent. But how did you learn 406’s patron?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“So you possess a skill that reveals patron constellations?”

I really couldn’t say anything to Mother.

“Will you lend her, or not?”

“I will. On one condition.”

I braced myself; Mother could propose the most unforeseen deals.

With a slight smile she delivered it.

“Next time, introduce your friends to me.”

For a second I was speechless.

Damn, she’d landed a clean hit.

No one in the world was better at turning bad people worse than my mother.

“Dokja, look at reality clearly. Just because fiction became reality, you mustn’t treat reality as fiction.”

[The Fourth Wall is shaking violently.]

A few words, and the whole world seemed to quake.

I understood. Mother was the person who reminded me of the ‘reality’ I despised.

“Do you understand?”

[The stigma Self-Justification Lv.1 has activated.]

Disgusting, the way she tried to play mother now.

We had crossed too many rivers to go back.

[The Fourth Wall settles.]

I could no longer stand it. I sprang up.

“You’re right. I do treat fiction like reality. Why? Because I’ve lived that way my whole life.”

Mother said nothing.

“You may think that’s pathetic, but know this, at least I have never sold reality as fiction, the way you did.”

With that I lifted the tent flap and stepped outside.

Cold air slipped beneath my coat collar.

As I buttoned up, I saw Sangah standing there with wide eyes.

“I-I’m sorry… You were gone so long I—”

Awkward. Or rather, embarrassing.

“…Did you hear?”

She bowed her head in apology, all I saw was the small crown of hair.

I sighed.

“Shall we walk a bit?”

We strolled along the platform of Yongsan Station.

A while ago the wind had been icy, now it merely brushed my cheek.

Despite surely having had no time to wash, her loose hair smelled pleasant.

“How’s the hangover?”

“I’m fine. I heard I was carried here, sorry for the trouble.”

“You were taking care of me first, remember.”

Silence for a moment.

“It must look strange to you. A mother and son talking like that.”

“It’s not strange at all.”

Not strange? Her face said otherwise.

“Would you like to know?”

Her eyes flickered.

“…If it isn’t rude.”

I smiled faintly. Time to tell it.

After a breath, I put on a mock-solemn tone.

“My mother killed my father.”

Oddly, the words sounded comical, like someone else’s tale.

“She went to prison for it.”

I kept talking.

“Father… it may sound terrible, but he deserved it. Domestic violence, gambling, loan sharks… we lived with bruises every day. One day Mother made her decision, and things exploded.”

“Ah…”

“It was big news, actually. I’m surprised you never heard.”

Sangah said nothing, realizing she had touched a wound best left closed.

“Now you must think it stranger still, wondering why I resent Mother even though

she was justified in everyone’s eyes.”

“That’s not it! I may not be you, but—”

“Honestly, you think I should forgive her, right?”

She fell silent. The wound was open. I continued before the hush grew stale.

“Have you heard of a book called Memoirs of an Underground Murderer?”

The sudden book title brightened her face.

“I think so. It was a huge bestseller, wasn’t it?”

“A battered wife murders her husband and writes her prison memoir. Critics raved, calling it the Korean Notes from Underground. Total over-praise, of course.”

Her face darkened immediately, she realized the subject had not changed.

“Correct. My mother wrote it.”

Her lips parted.

“I still remember, reporters lining our door, asking if every word was true. I remember every single comment my classmates made: ‘Is your mum making money selling murder?’”

“Dokja-ssi…”

“My relatives said the same—what kind of killer shows her face on the paper?

“It was rough, living as the murderer’s kid. No, living while someone turned my life into money—that’s a different kind of hell altogether.”

I looked up.

Although the sun was high, I could almost feel the constellations above, turning this too into a story. Yet none of them sponsored me at this moment. Lucky, perhaps. Who knew.

“Do you still think I should forgive her?”

I needed no reply, I had not spoken to be understood.

Perhaps this was the ugliest violence a twisted man like me could commit, displaying my misery and demanding an impossible empathy.

The kind Yu Sangah would grieve, knowing she could never fully understand.

In some perverse triumph I smiled.

“Sorry. I was joking.”

“…What?”

“It was a made-up story. You fell for it, didn’t you?

My mum and I are normal, Dad died in an accident when I was—”

Something small and soft wrapped around my hand.

The warmth was so gentle I forgot what I meant to say.

Our steps paused, just for an instant.

Sangah did not look at me, therefore I did not look at her.

Neither looking, we walked hand in hand, as if that alone sufficed.

And strangely, my heart grew calmer.

[The Fourth Wall trembles faintly.]

Perhaps it was the sheer, ordinary warmth.

“Dokja-ssi!”

Footsteps thundered from the station entrance; we let go reflexively.

Huiwon shouted,

“What, kissing again?”

“K-kissing?”

“Look at Sangah’s red face. You so did!”

Had I known less of Sangah, I might have believed that look myself.

“Quit teasing. Nothing happened.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Then she added, glancing back,

“A weird granny’s looking for you. Did you call her?”

Behind the group an elderly woman hobbled forward on a cane.

“Heheh, what use is an old body like mine…”

Like the other wanderers she wore a sky-blue prison uniform—

Prisoner No. 406. Mother was fast.

“You’re Kim Dokja, lad?”

“That’s me.”

“Madam Sukyeong told me all about you. I’ll be in your care.”

“And I in yours.”

I turned to my companions.

“She’s the person I asked for. Let’s move.”

We left the station and headed to the assembly point.

There the Supreme King’s company and the remaining kings already waited.

Through the gaping Great Hole above, crystals of purest white drifted down, each shedding brilliant light—

[Warp Crystal]

the item that would carry us to the next scenario region.

Footnotes:

[1]

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