WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: Ryuu

◈ The Little Prince in the Ossuary

00018 <-- The Little Prince of the Ossuary -->

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#High Risk, High Return (5), Paso Robles

The gym was sparsely populated compared to its size. About twenty students and a total of thirty-four people including adults were present, three of whom were armed. Two had shotguns, and one had a handgun. They peered over the barricade, their guns and faces visible. They were initially pleased to see Gyeoul, but became confused upon seeing the rest of the group, likely due to the difference in attire.

Click. The door locked behind them. Gyeoul had removed his gas mask but kept a firm grip on his handgun, just in case. A plump Caucasian woman hugged him impulsively, the same person who had opened the door for them.

"Thank you so much for coming. Everyone had been losing hope, growing exhausted."

"Don't mention it. Your name is…?"

"I'm Amalia Flemens. You can just call me Amalia. I'm the student affairs liaison here at Daniel Lewis Middle School."

By student affairs, she meant the foster youth program, responsible for orphans, adoptees, homeless students, and those experiencing family disputes.

"I'm Han Gyeoul. It's a bit hard to pronounce, so feel free to just call me Han."

Gyeoul spoke gently, gently pushing her away.

Among the onlookers, the armed men stood out. One of them asked, skeptically:

"Is this all of you?"

"For now, yes. Until additional forces arrive from Camp Roberts tomorrow."

Cheers erupted. However, the questioner still seemed unconvinced.

"How can we trust what a kid says? You have a unit patch, but no rank insignia, and those with you don't seem to be US military."

"To be frank, we're refugee volunteers from Korea. I, too, am a new recruit due to wartime conscription and don't have an official rank yet."

"What? Refugees? So you're basically nobodies?"

The complaint came from a gaunt man, matching his lean appearance with a prickly response.

The mood among the group soured. While their Korean might be limited, their understanding of the situation wasn't. They had caught the gist of the rude remark. Gyeoul gestured for them to stay calm. Many in the gym were taken aback by the man's words.

Gyeoul instructed Jin-seok and Je-jung to set down their bags. With all eyes on them, they untied the knots and pushed the bags over with their feet. The contents spilled out, instantly changing the spectators' perceptions.

"If we're nobodies, what do you make of the supplies we've brought?"

"Uh…"

The amount of canned food would have been plentiful even if the group had partaken. There was enough to go around and then some.

Tension filled the air. These were hungry people, having endured long periods without food. A few rushed forward, only to stop abruptly when Gyeoul raised his gun-wielding hand, using the other to halt them.

"We intended to give these to you anyway, but I'd like a direct apology from him first."

The thin man's expression soured, but he couldn't withstand the silent pressure from those around him. The unspoken disapproval was palpable; it was clear from the start that he was in the wrong. Gyeoul had merely added weight to the sentiment.

"Sorry about that."

It was a reluctant apology, with the man turning away gruffly. The others looked to the young boy, wondering if it was sufficient. Gyeoul didn't demand more.

"I apologize for any discomfort. Could everyone please form a line? We don't want anyone getting hurt in a rush."

The inconvenience of repeating everything in both English and Korean was notable, necessary for the group to understand as well.

Yura was put in charge of distribution. Her demeanor seemed more approachable, being a woman. However, Jin-seok stood behind her, his temperament suitable for maintaining order in this charged atmosphere. Despite their eagerness, the people prioritized the students, a sign they weren't yet desperate enough to abandon their principles.

"Do you have any spoons or forks?"

They had some spoons, but not enough. It seemed they had been washing and reusing them. At a hesitant student's inquiry, Gyeoul looked apologetic.

"We didn't manage to prepare that far. In a pinch, fold the lids into spoons. Be careful not to cut yourselves."

Thin aluminum could be easily shaped into makeshift spoons, with narrowed ends serving as handles. Those who were initially hesitant to use their hands began to eat properly.

"It seems none of you have been completely starving."

Gyeoul addressed a Caucasian middle-aged man, robust in stature. Despite the dirt, he still wore a suit and tie, suggesting a conservative and dignified character. His slow, deliberate eating lent credence to Gyeoul's assessment.

The middle-aged man adjusted his glasses and nodded in agreement.

“Yes… we had canned goods and processed meats from the cafeteria. A few people did die trying to obtain them, but… the vitamin supplements Amalia wisely brought along were helpful. Still, we had to reduce the portions a few days ago since there wasn't much left… It's truly fortunate that you all arrived when you did. Had you been even a day later, you would have seen us fighting amongst ourselves.”

“Is that so…”

“My apologies for the late introduction. My name is Stuart Hamill. I'm the principal of this school.”

“So, you're the principal. As you might have guessed, I'm Han Gyeoul. In Korea, we put the family name first, so Han is my family name and Gyeoul is my given name.”

“First Class Private… it's certainly hard to pronounce. I see why you asked to be called by your last name, Mr. Han.”

The principal chuckled, then asked with a more serious expression.

“Excuse me, but may I ask how old you are?”

In American culture, it's not common to ask someone's age directly. The idea is to treat everyone as an individual regardless of age, allowing for friendships that span generations. However, the principal had a reason to ask.

“Being an educator, I can't help but worry. You don't look much older than my students, yet you're armed and fighting…”

“Are you saying I'm like a child soldier?”

“…Yes.”

To an educator, the existence of child soldiers is an intolerable atrocity.

It's easy to think this has nothing to do with Korea. However, until 2005, Korea had a plan for student mobilization in times of war. And it wasn't the Ministry of Defense but the Ministry of Education that was in charge of this plan. Officially called ‘Operation Plan for Student Patriotic Corps during War,’ it proposed using teachers as company commanders and selecting ‘healthy students’ as platoon leaders, effectively militarizing the school system.

Gyeoul responded.

“I'm seventeen.”

“My goodness…”

The principal was appalled.

“In such times, what choice do we have?”

This time, his words contained more sincerity than fabrication. The principal shook his head.

“No matter the era, minors should be protected, Mr. Han. Even for adults, risking their lives in battle is a harrowing experience. For minors, it leaves indelible scars. Moreover, it seems the others are following your lead?”

“Again, it's about survival. They follow me not because of my age but because of my abilities… what I can do and what I will do.”

“That's wrong. You mentioned abilities, right? Consider applying that to killing. People who only look at whether someone can kill are usually dictators or mass murderers. There's no separate path to justice. Justice is the path itself.”

He must be hungry. The principal was passionately making his point, having forgotten about his meal. He's a good person, but that doesn't mean he can only be seen in a positive light. Principal Hamill likely won't fully recognize Gyeoul's leadership due to his being a minor, a disadvantage that comes with his age.

However, Gyeoul didn't show his frustration, simply responding with a smile.

“Thank you for your kind words, but sometimes, we have no choice. If I hadn't taken up arms, many more would have died or been injured, including myself.”

“……”

Principal Stuart Hamill sighed deeply. Gyeoul gestured for him to continue eating.

“Please finish your meal. I have some questions to ask afterwards.”

He wasn't making idle talk. Gyeoul gathered the principal and the others around a map, intending to collect information in anticipation of further developments. He asked about the locations of pharmacies, gun stores, grocery stores, and personal storage, marking them on the map in order. Such details were hard to obtain through aerial reconnaissance. Local libraries, government buildings, and the residents themselves were the most accurate sources of information.

Gyeoul had acquired ‘Memorization.’ System-assisted memory expands in proportion to intelligence and related skills. It's separate from the player's own memory. The character's memory serves as a sort of storage device, accessible at any time and responsive to both conscious and subconscious thought, linked with ‘Insight.’

It's useful but not essential, which is why he had saved his experience points. Level 2. Still, it was much better than nothing.

Night came quickly. Lights had to be used carefully to prevent them from leaking outside, as mutants are attracted to light like moths. In the early days of the disaster, radio broadcasts were effective. The United States has a well-developed disaster management system.

Gyeoul observed the people in the gymnasium.

They were living in tents set up inside the building, the kind that can be pitched using internal poles without needing stakes, accommodating thirty-four people somehow. In such times, not everyone sleeps at once; there are always some on watch, so the actual number of people the space can hold is less critical.

They relied on the still-functioning water supply for drinking water. It wasn't safe to drink directly, but in a country with many survivalists, one person had a portable water purifier capable of filtering 1 liter per minute, a high-end model. Gyeoul talked to the owner, who boasted that a single filter could purify 50,000 liters, lasting 12,500 days if used alone.

Waste and refuse were reasonably managed. A circular window near the scoreboard, not meant to be opened, had one of its grilles broken to create a hole for disposing of waste. Normally, it was sealed with plastic and tape. The smell of refuse they had noticed upon entering the gym came from here.

People hadn't abandoned the routines of civilized life. Few sought sleep as soon as it got dark and there was nothing to do. The crowd swarmed around the newcomers, curious about the situation at Camp Roberts. Gyeoul's companions were uncomfortable; they couldn't converse in English, and revealing the harsh realities faced by the refugees was embarrassing.

Gyeoul understood their reluctance to appear weak.

Still, he was honest.

“The camp isn't in great shape either. Better than here, but still…”

The truth would come out if they managed to return safely. Amalia, the female teacher, raised her hand.

“How many people are there?”

“A lot. A whole lot. Mostly refugees, with the largest groups from East Asia and then Oceania. There are also American citizens who joined after the California outbreak.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Food and winter supplies are scarce. That's why people like us, refugee supporters, are working with the military to procure supplies from outside. Since American citizens are given priority, it's hard for refugees to get their fair share.”

As expected, some people's attitudes changed, looking down on them. A minority, likely already harboring the trait ‘Racism.’ In the early days, not accustomed to the ‘Days after Apocalypse,’ Gyeoul would lose his temper with such individuals, even if they were just AI.

Now, though he's accustomed to it, he doesn't just let it slide. If there was any hope Gyeoul had in virtual reality, it was that he didn't have to hold back his anger. He had held back too much in life, and even if it was just an appearance, it meant something to him.

Gyeoul pointedly addressed one man who had snickered.

“You there, with the hat. Is it right to scoff at those who've come to help, regardless of the circumstances?"

"I... What did I do? You're mistaken!"

"Is that so? I hope I am."

Gyeoul had never set down his handgun since entering. Tapping the slide with his unoccupied index finger, the man grimaced and retreated to his tent.

The others, not directly admonished, were still frightened, dispersing quietly.

A warning is less effective when it's aimed at the masses. The strength of the many comes from being many. It was a lesson learned over multiple cycles.

--------------------------- Author's Note ---------------------------

The places and names mentioned in this novel all exist. The distances traveled in the story match the actual distances. I plan to organize this information and post it on a blog at some point.

Thank you to those who point out errors.

Footnotes:

[1] The Wartime Student Mobilization Plan in Korea was officially abolished in 2005. Until then, it was a contingency plan that reflected the militarized state of society during periods of heightened tension, particularly due to the ongoing state of war with North Korea. The plan was controversial because it involved the potential militarization of minors in the event of a national emergency.

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