WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 77: Partner

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In a silence quiet enough to hear ants crawling, Rimon raised his head slightly.

Then he casually asked,

“Well?”

“Pardon?”

“Did that song sound like noise to you?”

“...”

As if they had only just remembered their bet with Rimon, the trio at the very front of the crowd went from looking utterly dazed to abruptly alarmed.

They exchanged looks they could not put into words.

Until moments ago, they had thought a bet like this would be easy.

The method was simple.

They only had to say that performance had been awful, that it was noise pollution.

Music was subjective, after all. No matter what anyone else said, if they thought it sounded bad, that was that.

But...

“Th-this is cheating.”

“Cheating? How?”

“You said you would perform without using a Skill, but you used one.”

“Huh? That was a Skill?”

“Of course it was, idiot! How else could anyone make a song like that without a Skill?”

The trio insisted that the song, which had seemed so ordinary only moments ago, could not have changed so drastically unless he had used a Skill. Therefore, they had no reason to honor the terms of the bet either.

Yet Rimon neither argued nor got angry.

He merely smiled strangely.

“Doesn’t that mean our performance was good enough to seem like it used a Skill?”

“...That isn’t the point. The question is whether you used a Skill or not.”

“Well, I don't think it matters.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I used a music Skill, then I have the right to perform here. And if I did not, then I proved I could still put on a performance as good as a Player with Skills.”

“...!”

The trio stared at him in shock.

“Well, if you really want to call it cheating, go ahead. I’ll gladly apologize and leave.”

Rimon snickered at them.

Then he glanced meaningfully over their shoulders with a faint smile.

“That is, if you are confident you can perform here after us.”

The trio turned around without thinking, then found themselves speechless again.

A crowd packed the street as densely as a can of sardines, though it had been relatively quiet only moments ago.

Their gazes plainly said they wanted to clap and call for an encore already, but could not because of the trio. The pressure nearly choked them.

‘Perform instead?’

‘In front of all these people?’

‘After giving them a song like that?’

The trio broke into a cold sweat.

Blinded by the prospect of a bet, they had only now realized they had fallen for Rimon’s scheme.

‘We got played...!’

‘This bastard never suggested the bet because he wanted to win. He only wanted a chance to perform.’

They understood Rimon’s intentions.

Which made the whole thing absurd.

Calling it a scheme was generous. He could only pull this off because he was confident that one performance would draw a crowd this large.

Including the certainty that the trio could not give a performance to match that song.

It was absurd confidence.

‘A high-level Player with music Skills might have that kind of confidence, but...’

By common sense, it was only natural.

Unless they were a famous celebrity, it was nearly impossible for an unknown musician to gather a crowd like this in an instant with nothing but a guitar and a song without the power of Skills.

‘...Was that performance really a Skill?’

Still, doubt arose in their minds.

Rimon’s confident claim that he would perform without Skills, and his attitude even now.

Most of all, the strange lingering feeling they had never felt from any performance they had seen or heard before made them wonder, ‘What if?’

“So, what is your answer?”

For a while, they weighed the pressure of countless gazes behind them and the doubts rising within them against their pride as musicians and the burden of beginning a performance in Rimon’s place.

In the end, they sighed.

Then, with resigned expressions, they asked,

“Do you take song requests?”

Before they were musicians, they were people.

They simply could not resist the powerful temptation to hear more of that performance.

And so began an endless relay of requests and encores from an audience of hundreds.

* * *

“What a mess.”

[...I don’t think you’re one to say that, Team Leader.]

“Why not?”

[Because you are the one who caused this mess, Team Leader.]

“Why is this my fault? I just played a few songs they asked for.”

[There is a limit to accepting encores. Who in the world keeps taking requests nonstop for over five or six hours?]

Yoo Na-gyeong clicked her tongue.

Rimon had started performing here more than nine hours ago.

For an ordinary musician, their fingers would have blistered or gone into spasms long before their stamina and passion gave out.

But the body of a Sword Master was remarkable.

Though he had been playing the whole time, his hands were not blistered, and he did not even show a single drop of sweat.

[And now all those people have collapsed here!]

The problem was that not everyone was a superhuman Sword Master.

If the performance had been mediocre, they could have listened for a while and left.

But the strangely delightful harmony had made them hesitate, wanting just a little more, and in the end, most of the crowd had stayed until the very end.

Nine hours was plenty of time to wear them all out.

“They haven’t collapsed. They just sat down and spread out a bit because they wanted to rest.”

[That is what collapsed means.]

Sitting down for a quick rest? Understandable.

Borrowing chairs and tables from the restaurants and cafes along the street? That was resourceful, at least.

Ordering something because they felt awkward borrowing only the chairs and tables, then drinking alcohol as well? That could be overlooked too.

...If more and more people had not followed suit until the entire street became one giant party.

This was the result.

Even though midnight had passed long ago, the crowd still filled the street, and the place looked less like a music street than a street full of drinkers.

[What is this, a festival? A concert? It is not even a party for people who know each other, so why did everyone suddenly start drinking?]

“You’re right. If they were going to throw a drinking party, they could at least offer me some. Kids these days have no conscience.”

[Is that really the important part?!]

“Of course it is. I spent precious hours giving them free performances, and it’s sad if I can’t even get a drink from the party that started because of me.”

[So you admit this is all your fault?!]

As Rimon bickered with Yoo Na-gyeong while watching everyone drink and make merry, a can of beer suddenly appeared before him.

“Want a drink, Mr. Lonely Wolf?”

“...Why am I a lonely wolf?”

“Hmm, then would you prefer King of Beasts? Or a noble tiger?”

“It is not a matter of species. I am asking why you are so determined to compare me to an animal.”

“That is just the vibe you give off. It is why everyone else cannot casually approach you and only watches from a distance, right?”

Unlike Rimon, who was left speechless by that shameless answer, Yoo Na-gyeong nodded in understanding.

[Well, you do look pretty intimidating, Team Leader.]

‘Do I really look that intimidating? I even changed my appearance so I wouldn’t stand out.’

[Hah, that’s ridiculous. Do you think a dragon wearing a wolf skin will look friendly to rabbits?]

‘...’

For a moment, Rimon considered plucking every feather from this insolent former subordinate and current blue chicken-pigeon.

Then he sighed softly.

Taking the cold can of beer, he casually said to the hooded musician who had performed alongside him the entire time,

“Call me Lee.”

“I’m Eugene. While you’re at it, call me friend with some affection.”

They had performed together for several hours before finally introducing themselves. They were remarkable in many ways.

That included being more energetic than anyone else, even after performing until the audience had collapsed from exhaustion.

But neither Rimon nor Eugene cared.

They simply sat side by side, clinked their cans of beer, and calmly continued their conversation.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your guitar.”

“Yeah, you really put it to good use. I didn’t even know my guitar could make music like that.”

“That is because your playing is such a mess. Why do you play the guitar like that? You would be better off leaving the accompaniment to a record player and only singing.”

“A record player...?”

“You know, one of those machines that plays songs from records or CDs.”

“Oh, like an amp? I don’t use those. If it isn’t a live performance, the song has no soul.”

“Soul. That is a nice word.”

Rimon let out a quiet laugh despite himself.

In an era where even the standard for good music was decided by Skill level, Eugene spoke as though a word like “soul,” which felt old-fashioned even to Rimon, were the most natural thing in the world.

For some reason, that amused him.

Eugene spoke cheerfully to Rimon.

“I think today is my lucky day.”

“Because you didn’t get chased off?”

“That too, but I got to sing my heart out for the first time in ages. And I found a partner who is unbelievably good at guitar.”

“Partner? What kind of partner?”

“Huh? The partner who will make music with me from now on, obviously.”

“Who will?”

“You, obviously.”

“...Since when was that decided?”

“Maybe since you gave that incredible performance with the guitar you borrowed from me?”

Eugene smiled brightly.

When Rimon had first asked to borrow the guitar, Eugene had merely been interested.

But the thrilling sensation and intoxicating joy that had surged up the moment Eugene sang along to that performance had swept away those carefree thoughts entirely.

“I can’t be satisfied without you now, so you have to take responsibility.”

“Could you avoid saying things that can be misunderstood?”

“But it’s true.”

Despite the light tone, Eugene’s eyes were quite serious.

Rimon scratched his cheek.

“Even if you put it that way, my playing is more of a hobby. I have no intention of debuting or anything later.”

“Oh, that is even better. I’m not interested in debuting either.”

“It would be hard to coordinate schedules once work gets busy.”

“That’s fine. I’m a freelancer, so I can work around your schedule.”

“...”

It felt like talking to a wall.

As though Eugene had been possessed by some Trainer who would cling on no matter how firmly Rimon refused, crying, “It’s fine, so become my partner!” before trapping him in a white-and-red ball.[1]

Rimon stared silently at Eugene, who only smiled and nodded.

‘It was about time to finish my training.’

Now that he had realized what his performance lacked.

And how difficult it would be to fill that gap.

Rimon had planned to stop wandering around and begin seriously taking control of the Seven Dragons Society.

He would become incomparably busier than before, and he would not have time to do things like this.

Even knowing that, Rimon did not flatly reject Eugene’s offer.

‘To think I would find a clue that could replace training through this performance.’

When he had performed with Eugene, fragments of starlight had melted away.

Feeling that he could now control the power of another Constellation, Rimon wore a strange expression.

Until now, the power of the Constellations had only melted away when he used the Pitch-Black Violin. The fact that it had responded to an ordinary performance was itself major progress.

‘Whether it is the song or the person, I do not know exactly what the Constellation’s power responded to, but...’

Rimon folded his arms.

Of course, there was no guarantee that spending time with Eugene would bring results.

But as someone preparing to face the powerful enemy that was the Constellations, he could not ignore even the slightest possibility.

After a brief consideration, Rimon casually asked,

“Just to make sure, would it be all right if I played an instrument other than guitar?”

Rimon Aspelder.

It was a historic moment when the last Sword Master, who had spent centuries doing nothing but wielding a sword, decided to take up a hobby.

Footnotes:

[1] A Pokémon reference: Trainers catch Pokémon in red-and-white Poké Balls.

The Trainer and white-and-red ball reference Pokémon.

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