WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ SSS-Class Revival Hunter ◈
Chapter 132: The Wasteland (2)
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2.
“Look over there! Up there...”
“Wh-what should we do? Should we call a teacher?”
Students gathered in the playground, pointing towards the rooftop.
“What is he planning to do?”
“I don’t know. Looks like he’s going to jump…”
There was a student standing on the rooftop.
“What should we do?”
“Crazy! Someone call a teacher!”
“There! Over there!”
Students playing soccer, students taking a walk, even those leaving school a bit late. Students scattered around the schoolyard began to gather in groups. It was an instinctive response. They felt that something they couldn’t handle alone was happening, was about to happen.
"This is bad......!"
Instead of helplessly gathering, some chose to act quickly.
“This is not good. Gong-Ja! Call 119*. Tell them the name of the school and that a student is about to jump from the rooftop. Hurry! I’ll go up to the rooftop and try to persuade the child!”
*119 is the emergency dial number in South Korea.
Raviel didn’t send someone to call a teacher. Instead of looking for someone to take responsibility, she acted promptly to address the situation. Without waiting for my response, Raviel quickly ran towards the main school building.
“Ah….”
Seeing Raviel’s retreating figure, my frozen body thawed. Right. Whatever the situation, there’s no time to hesitate. I quickly dialed on my phone. 1... 1...
Thud!
Something fell in the schoolyard just before I could press 9. At first, I thought a student had jumped. But the sound was too trivial for a human body falling. It was the sound of the student on the rooftop throwing down his phone.
"......."
I looked up at the rooftop, pressing 9.
Our eyes met.
It was the face I had seen in the classroom. The student sitting alone in the back row by the window, silently doing advance study. But it felt like only now did I really see the student’s face clearly.
The student's pupils were black.
The student’s cheeks were white.
"------."
The student raised the corners of his mouth in a sneer.
Slowly, the student’s lips moved. Silence. The voice, obscured by the distance, was read by my eyes through the movement of his lips. It was a two-syllable last word I couldn’t help but recognize, even if I tried not to.
[Die.]
And then.
Small claw-like fingers let go of the rooftop fence. Letting go.
The wind.
The person…
"■■■■■■■■!!"
Students screamed. The world was engulfed in noise. “Mi■!” Someone cried out in a fit. “■■Aaaaaaa■■■ack!” Someone shook, tearing at someone else's sleeve.
“Teach■! Teach■r!” “Shi■,” “■ck!”
In an instant.
The school was no longer a school. Everything shattered. The playground was a bleak desert. The main building was nothing but a grotesque prison.
The classrooms were slaughterhouses where beasts were butchered, or pens where beasts were raised. The beasts were always ravenous for food. In a world of slaughter and husbandry, a person was merely something destined to become a corpse.
Red.
A person had died.
"......."
I stared blankly at the schoolyard. The bricks held a hue of red. The redness spread further. Fearing that their toes might touch the red, students stepped back. A few took out their phones. Click! The artificial sound rang out.
“Ah."
That sound moved me.
“Don’t take photos.”
I approached the students.
“What are you doing right now? Don’t take photos! Stop it!”
The students flinched. But more and more students were gathering. Leaving the soccer ball in the desert, abandoning flowers on the walking path, turning their backs on the way home, more people gathered.
“Don’t take photos!”
As I stopped one group, another took out their phones on the opposite side.
“Stop it, damn it! Stop!”
A nameless emotion surged up my esophagus. Tears seemed about to flow. It was anger. Contempt. Disgust. From the school main building, on the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th floors, students poked their heads out to look here. Countless faces. Countless eyes.
Watching a person.
“Stop, don’t!”
The sunset was red.
“Damn it,”
Why.
“Just stop it, will you!”
Hundreds of faces were expressionless. On the 1st floor, Black Witch looked this way. On the 3rd floor, Heretic Inquisitor peeked out. In the schoolyard, Paladin and Countess looked on. The children from the Hellfire Mansion surrounded me. The cultists stood in the playground. Click! Click.
They moved their fingers and took photos.
+
The one responsible for my death is you.
Don’t forget.
You killed me.
+
I looked up at the rooftop.
"......."
Raviel was looking down at me.
“But, Gong-Ja.”
Raviel’s voice flowed against the reddened sky.
“Was it not you who killed that person?”
The world crumbled.
The sky was stained red.
Red paint fell, drenching the ground.
People turned red, and my vision reddened.
“---As you know, there has been an unfortunate incident at our school.”
In the auditorium, the principal spoke. The principal had the face of the Sword Saint.
“But I believe in the students of Shinseo Middle and High School...”
Red.
“He sent a text like that. Isn't he completely insane?”
Students murmured in the classroom. They had the faces of Countess and Paladin.
“That’s right. Looking back, he was always a bit weird.”
Red.
“Ignore the people making a fuss and criticizing you over it. They can't make a peep to your face, but their fingers are plenty lively online. Bah. People like that ought to have all their fingers cut off.”
At home, my father drank whiskey. He had the face and laughter of the Guardian Spirit.
“Yeah, man. Sometimes you hit people. That's life. Who goes and dies over a little thing like that? What an attention seeker. Hey! Call the Four Heavenly Kings! Let's go play some games!”
My brother put his arm around my shoulder. The Flame Emperor spoke cheerfully.
Red.
“Yes, the teacher is very sad. Sad, but.”
On the podium, the homeroom teacher spoke. The teacher had the face of Viper.
“This is an extremely important time for all of you. Once you enter your third year, time will fly by in a blur. In practical terms, the contest is decided during your second year. Think carefully about what matters to you and pull yourselves together.”
The students opened their mouths. All of them answered in unison.
“Yes, teacher.”
Only the class president silently lowered their head.
The class president had the face of Black Dragon Master.
A white flower was placed on that child's desk. One day, two days, three days. Before a week passed, the desk disappeared somewhere. It was unclear who removed it.
No student asked who removed it.
A new desk did not enter the back row by the window.
"......."
The wind blew.
The curtain fluttered.
Where the wind blew, there was no one.
[Repeating the trauma.]
And then.
[The level of penalty is High.]
[Animal Realm.]
Ding,
Dong,
Dang,
Dong.
An eerie melody rang out.
It was noise masquerading as sound. An electronic sound mimicking natural sounds. The melody became more lively and spirited, as if to hide the fact that it was just a poor imitation.
-Attention to all students remaining in school, this announcement is from the Broadcasting Club.
An imitation
-Except for those participating in the evening self-study, we ask other students to please go home now. Once again, this is an announcement from the Broadcasting Club.
Something which failed.
-Recently, there have been cases of students staying in school after the end of the school day. To all students remaining in school who have not signed up for evening self-study, please go home.
Feeling nauseous, I opened my eyes.
“Senior, wake up! It's time to go home!”
"......."
“Oh, you're already awake.”
The Heretic Inquisitor grinned.
“Sleeping facedown on a desk is bad for your health! It is bad for your back, and above all, you cannot get a proper night's sleep. Midterms are coming up soon, so...”
I didn’t wait for the Heretic Inquisitor to finish speaking. I stood up and ran out of the library. The Heretic Inquisitor’s voice followed from behind.
“Oh, senior! You shouldn’t run in the hallway!”
I clenched my teeth as I ran down the hallway.
‘I understand now.’
The mystery was solved.
This was undoubtedly the trauma of the Constellation Killer, Leafanta Aegim.
My memories had been overlaid on Leafanta Aegim's nightmare like a [skin].
The same situation.
The same roles.
Only, the characters weren't those remembered by Leafanta Aegim, but those I had seen in my life. Therefore, Black Dragon Master, Paladin, and Countess became students. My master and Guardian Spirit became my parents.
And I was.
‘I am the perpetrator.’
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
‘I am the main culprit assigned to this role.’
In all the traumas I had experienced before, I had always been an [observer]. There was always a sense of being a first-person observer. But as my rank increased, so did the penalty.
Here, I was a party involved.
Not just me, but everyone I remembered.
Except for one person.
‘Damn it!’
I reached the stairs.
[Behave respectfully♪]
[Live joyfully♪]
[Feel happy♪]
On the stairs hung a ridiculously inappropriate slogan. Stop joking. Really, stop it. I cursed inwardly as I looked up the stairs leading to the rooftop.
There stood the only person in this world [not in my memories].
‘Constellation Killer.’
A small-framed child. The student gripped the metal door that would not open and tugged it back and forth. Clank. Clang! The chain was secure and looked nearly impossible to undo.
“Haah... the key…”
The student sighed and turned around. Our eyes met for a moment. The student paused briefly, but then politely bowed his head.
The student bowed to me.
‘Why didn’t I realize sooner?’
When I realized this student was my classmate, I should have noticed something strange. Isn’t it obvious?
What classmate bows their head in greeting to another classmate?
Something was wrong.
"......."
The student glanced at me and then quietly walked away. As he was about to pass me, I called out to him.
“Wait a moment.”
“Yes?”
The student naturally used formal language. He didn’t look at me directly but cautiously looked up with a practiced angle.
My throat clenched.
"...... Can I see your phone for a moment?”
"......."
“Please.”
The student obediently handed over the phone. There was a brief silence, not resistance to my request, but rather surprise at my use of formal language.
I opened the phone. It did not even have a password.
+
47 Unread Messages.
+
I opened the messages one by one.
I saw them.
[I feel so sorry for our juniors TTTT ■■ They’re supposed to call you senior, right? Have you thought about how they feel? Doesn’t your conscience hurt?]
[Hey, you gonna answer?]
[I’m shocked! There’s a student who doesn’t wash their uniform!?]
[■■... really disgusting. Even worse than the math teacher lololol]
[I greeted you in the hallway yesterday, and you seemed so happy hahaha Hey! I did it because I lost at rock-paper-scissors! Please don’t get it wrong ㅠㅠ]
[■■ lives in a garbage dump. The indoor shoes and uniform are all reused. There's only one piece of trash that can't be recycled, and that's ■■.]
[Your smell is really bad. Seriously, you stink.]
[Let's meet after class.]
Thud.
I closed the phone.
I couldn’t read any more.
"......."
I closed my eyes and breathed. Breathing somehow calmed me down. In this trauma, I didn’t have the dagger’s hilt. Nor the handkerchief Raviel gave me. It took a lot of effort to calm my emotions.
“Why…”
I looked at the [Constellation Killer's past].
“Why do you bring your phone to school? Just don’t bring it.”
The student replied.
“...You said you'd kill me if I didn't bring it.”
Cold saliva slid down my throat.
My head spun.
“Then just throw it away. Throw it out. If you say you lost it, there won't be anything they can do.”
“This.”
The student,
the person who would later come to be known as the Constellation Killer, spoke quietly.
“This phone was given by you, sir. An old one you used…”
"......."
“My family doesn't have any money... and you're even paying the phone bill for me. You told me to come out immediately whenever you called. That's what the phone is for. You said you'd kill me again if I lost it...”
The grotesque building.
Friendship mimicking friendship, love imitating love, meaninglessness copying meaning, specialness feigned and extraordinariness staged. In this masked breeding pen, only malice remained.
“Is it really okay to throw it away?”
Only malice was not fake.
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