WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 23: Under 19s Not Allowed?

──────

The Iron Age had begun.

After Dungeons and Constellations appeared.

Many people became Players.

After all, being able to form a contract with a Constellation and gain skills just by clearing Dungeons was an enticing prospect.

Especially now, more than half of humanity could be considered Players.

[Ah, mic test. Mic test.]

But most were level 10 or below.

There were surprisingly few mid-tier Players.

To raise their levels, they had to clear Dungeons, but the deeper they went, the more exponentially difficult the Dungeons became.

That was why high-level Players received such treatment.

No matter how successful Players were, not just anyone could risk their life challenging a Dungeon’s deepest levels.

[Can you hear me? You can, right? You’d better be able to.]

From that perspective, Monarchs were truly remarkable.

They had been born with extraordinary talent, formed contracts with Monarch-class Constellations, and still had the fortune of heaven on their side.

Only such people could reach the absolute realm of level 100.

The fact that only ten people had reached the lowest floor of a Dungeon despite more than half of humanity having challenged Dungeons proved just how remarkable that was.

[If this broadcast doesn’t get through properly to the Infinite Monarch, this bastard’s throat gets cut.]

“...”

Yet at this moment, Lee Cheon-gi, one of those ten great Monarchs, had unusually found himself at a loss for words.

It was understandable.

This was something everyone in the country... no, most people around the world were experiencing right now.

Watching the president of a nation sweat profusely on television with a sword at their throat was quite an unprecedented experience.

“...Manager Park, what exactly is going on?”

So dumbfounded was he that Lee Cheon-gi even paused the recorded broadcast to ask.

At his question, which revealed his bewilderment more plainly than usual, Park Hyeon-gun answered with a pale face.

“There has been an incident at the Blue House[1].”

“What kind of incident could possibly result in a broadcast like that?”

“That is...”

Park Hyeon-gun was at a loss for words.

No matter how they considered it, there was no way to explain this situation without sounding insane.

But not answering was not an option either.

So Park Hyeon-gun ultimately explained everything.

How Rimon had suddenly stormed the Blue House, taken President Han Jeong-guk hostage, and everything that followed.

After hearing it all, Lee Cheon-gi asked after a long silence.

“...And after doing all that, he requested a press conference?”

“Yes. He said he would cut the VIP’s throat if even one domestic broadcaster was absent.”

“Why were we not informed until things reached this point? If something like that had happened, our guild should have received a request for support.”

“The VIP apparently stopped it. They said mobilizing the guild over something like this would destabilize the political situation...”

“I think that would have been preferable to appearing on television as a hostage.”

“...”

Lee Cheon-gi’s observation was cold.

Despite his words, he could understand the president’s choice.

Just a rumor that the Blue House had been attacked could turn the nation upside down.

And if the culprit was Rimon?

What if they could not even stop Rimon alone and had to ask a guild for assistance?

It would be enough to end the president’s political life.

Whether because they had driven a national hero into rebellion, or because they could not even handle the rampage of one ordinary person who was not a Player.

So presumably, the president had blocked information as much as possible and tried to resolve the situation alone...

But that had only been the right political choice.

Tactically, it had been a complete misjudgment.

“What exactly made that person think they could handle him alone?”

“An advisor with the 『Information Analysis』 skill apparently advised them that firearms would work as long as Rimon was not a Player.”

“And they believed that nonsense?”

“Since the VIP is also a high-level Player, they seem to have thought that, at worst, they could use their own skill to negotiate...”

“And this is the result.”

Lee Cheon-gi sneered.

Rimon had slaughtered 150 high-level Players.

And that was not counting Unit 909, armed with top-grade powered exoskeletons.

Knowing that perfectly well, the president had believed that mere firearms and their own skill would work against Rimon.

It had been utterly hopeless.

But what could be done?

The matter had already happened, and the president was paying for their misjudgment.

Having roughly grasped the situation, Lee Cheon-gi tapped the desk with a finger and resumed Rimon’s paused broadcast.

* * *

[I’m sure a lot of you are wondering why I’m here doing this.]

It was an entirely reasonable question.

Even Lee Cheon-gi, who knew most of the circumstances behind how Rimon had become a traitor, had been dumbfounded watching this broadcast.

So it was obvious how bewildered the public must be, seeing a threat on television with a sword at the president’s throat for no apparent reason.

[Mind your own business.]

[...Pardon?]

[I said mind your own business, you bastards.]

[...???]

With question marks practically floating above their heads, the citizens of the country...

Or rather, people around the world, Rimon bluntly told them not to wonder why he was doing this.

[I have no intention of answering anything you ask, and I have no intention of justifying this by rambling on with pathetic excuses.]

[Does that make any sense?!]

[And if it doesn’t? Want me to cut the president’s throat right now? Huh?]

[N-no! That’s not what I meant...]

The middle-aged reporter who had reflexively objected stammered as Rimon pressed his sword close to President Han’s throat.

One careless word from the reporter could get the president killed.

The reporter had no choice but to watch what they said.

[B-but isn’t the point of a broadcast like this to make a statement?]

Perhaps because the reporter was experienced.

Or perhaps because a scoop mattered more to them than the president’s life.

The middle-aged reporter cautiously asked anyway, and Rimon responded indifferently.

[Who decided that?]

[Excuse me?]

[Who decided that when you take a hostage and go on television, you have to make a statement?]

[Well, to claim the legitimacy of a hostage situation...]

[Why the fuck should I do something that pathetic, you piece of shit?]

At the abuse that would have been treated as a broadcast accident if this were not a forced broadcast, the middle-aged reporter reflexively said:

[Uh, sir, this is live, so perhaps you could watch your language...]

[This idiot’s throwing a goddamn fit and spouting bullshit.]

[F-f***?!]

[You crazy bastard. The president might get their throat cut on live television across the country, and you think a little swearing is the problem?]

The middle-aged reporter had nothing to say.

There were limits to worrying about broadcasting standards.

Certainly, a curse or two would not make this situation any more horrifying.

That’s not wrong, but why does this feel so unfair?

Regardless of the reporter’s grievance, Rimon snorted and continued.

[Besides, only bastards with something to hide claim legitimacy. I have nothing to be ashamed of under heaven, so why would I spout excuses?]

Is that really something you should be saying?!

The middle-aged reporter’s mouth fell open.

A man currently holding a sword to the president’s throat and taking the president hostage was saying that so proudly.

The other reporters and camera operators in the press room were equally stunned.

But reason did not work on madmen.

Unable to point that out directly, the middle-aged reporter asked another question instead.

[T-then why did you request a press conference?]

If he was not going to claim legitimacy, why demand that every channel broadcast this scene?

Did that not mean he had something to hide?

Or was he genuinely insane?

Rimon answered that question, packed with so many doubts, as calmly as ever.

[Oh, this? I wanted to send a message.]

[A message? To whom?]

[Who do you think, you bastard? Didn’t you hear me say to make sure the Infinite Monarch saw this broadcast?]

[...If you wanted to contact the Infinite Monarch, couldn’t you have simply called him?]

The reporter asked with an unconscious hint of sarcasm.

Rimon replied with equal sarcasm.

[Like a phone call would get through. It’d get stopped somewhere along the way, and I’d be left waiting ten years.]

That was not wrong.

The problem was that replacing a phone call by taking the president hostage and broadcasting it live was such an insane idea.

But Rimon had not done this without reason.

[Besides, I intend to make that bastard an offer he can’t refuse.]

[That bast... Wait. What did you just call the Infinite Monarch?]

[Lee Cheon-gi, the Infinite Monarch. It seems I’ve been getting on your nerves lately, so I’ll give you a special gift.]

Whatever the reporter babbled about, Rimon did not care in the slightest.

He only stared directly into the camera and continued in a cold voice.

[Come to the Blue House by midnight tonight.]

[I don’t care whether you come alone or drag every guild bastard along with you.]

[As long as you come, I’ll release the president.]

[But if you don’t come, the president dies.]

[...]

It happened in an instant.

The press room froze.

It was not because of the vicious threat itself.

It was Rimon’s attitude as he calmly discussed the president’s death as if he were talking about an ant’s life that froze everyone in the room.

[It won’t end with the president.]

[Next will be the prime minister, then the deputy prime minister.]

[After that, I’ll take ministers and members of the National Assembly one by one and send the same message.]

It was the ravings of a madman.

Something an ordinary person could never do.

And even if they could, would never carry out.

Yet those watching the broadcast could not dismiss it as empty boasting.

Not simply because it came from a superhuman who had attacked the Blue House alone and taken the president hostage.

Rimon’s golden eyes, as still as a frozen lake, made them realize it.

The person they were looking at truly had the ability to do it, and was a madman who might actually follow through.

[Try stopping me if you think you can.]

[If you think you can protect every high-ranking official in this country from me, that is.]

Then they remembered.

Memories of the past buried in oblivion.

From old stories they had heard from their grandfathers.

The national hero everyone had admired before the Iron Age began.

And what kind of being humanity’s last Sword Master, a figure of terror to his enemies, had been.

[Well, you could just watch all those brats die. Then you can sit back and swallow this entire country whole.]

[Or you could get rid of one troublesome old relic and become the hero who saved the nation.]

[Whichever you choose is up to you.]

[Just remember one thing.]

[No matter what you choose, someday you’ll have to settle things with me.]

Saying that he would never force Lee Cheon-gi to choose.

That everything was Lee Cheon-gi’s decision.

Despite the fresh smile on his face, Rimon finished speaking with eyes devoid of even the slightest amusement.

Then he dragged the president, frozen stiff with a deathly pale face, out of the press room.

[Oh, and one more thing.]

As though he had suddenly remembered something, Rimon stopped walking.

Then he grinned at the camera.

[Good little bastards, don’t try copying me. If you get caught doing it, you’re dead.]

Footnotes:

[1] Blue House: South Korea’s presidential residence and executive office.

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried