WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS
Translator/Editor: Ryuu
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Little Prince in the Ossuary
00026 <-- The Little Prince of the Ossuary -->
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#Executive Order 9066, Camp Roberts (2)
For a significant period in the world's timeline, no major events occurred. At most, there were minor supply missions, which posed no great threat.
During this time, Gyeoul completed officer training and strengthened the community's unity.
The officer training was hardly anything noteworthy. In a crisis, it was unlikely that administration would function properly.
In the refugee area, the tent Gyeoul was seeking was now more crowded than before. People unable to enter huddled near the entrance or milled around. As Gyeoul approached, they all murmured and gathered around, each likely having a favor to ask or perhaps harboring ill intentions. Gyeoul held onto the handle of his pistol and extended his other hand forward.
"Sorry, but please don't come any closer."
Though fearful, most people responded with understanding. After all, it was natural to be wary of strangers in this camp where life was cheap. Even the few who lacked understanding swallowed their saliva at the sight of the pistol and complied.
No matter how frequent the murders in the refugee area, openly killing someone in broad daylight was not without consequences, but Gyeoul was an exception— at least, that’s what the refugees thought.
Waiting at the entrance, Jang Yeon-cheol greeted Gyeoul with a bright smile.
"Welcome, Little Captain."
The title of Little Captain had become Gyeoul's unique nickname here. Everyone called him that, and it wasn't a bad thing. He seemed to appreciate it himself.
The atmosphere inside the tent had changed significantly from before. If Gyeoul previously seemed somewhat aloof, now he was more like a central weight, grounding the space. As soon as he entered, the area quieted down. A palpable tension hung in the air, one of authority and respect, but not of fear.
It was satisfactory. With the boy in focus, no longer did any disdainful gazes linger. Occasionally, there were eyes filled with rivalry, but whenever gazes met, the other would quickly look away, a tacit acknowledgement of respect, whatever their true feelings might be.
He had spent a long time crafting what he was about to say. He had reviewed the "textbook," prepared his lines, and rehearsed them in his mind, believing they would entertain the viewers. The tension was palpable, but he did not show it.
Acting was a tiring affair.
For those who had not yet smiled, Gyeoul gave them a warm one.
"Everyone, did you have a good breakfast?"
Smiles bloomed in response, harmonizing nicely. Everyone seemed brighter, both in expression and in complexion, cleaner than before.
Being among the most influential individuals in the refugee area, merely being under Gyeoul's protection prevented other groups from meddling recklessly. The contrived squalor and intentional filth were no longer necessary defenses.
Especially the women were formidable. Suppressed survival instincts had freed a longing for beauty, leading them to wash and dress up with surprising zeal regardless of age. His experience was extensive, yet it was still hard to adapt to. Such was the limit of a man. Nonetheless, it was a pleasant sight.
Before formal operations could begin, the community needed a name. As the clear leader, Gyeoul now had the authority to manage the community system. He had told people to think of a suitable name.
He could have unilaterally decided and announced it, but this way felt more appropriate for Gyeoul. It suited the nature of the community he wanted to create. Everyday incidents, accumulating over time, would influence the members significantly. It was not something to be ignored.
Moreover, the name of the community would affect the members' psychology, community tendencies, and external image. It was not a trivial matter.
"Have you all thought about what I mentioned? The name for our group."
Answers poured forth. Gyeoul raised his hand to calm them down.
"Sorry, it’s too chaotic. Those who want to speak, please raise your hand."
Then, everyone raised their hands. It seemed more from a desire to be noticed than from having good ideas. It was a mild aspect of power, and that was fine. He would adopt any good suggestion. Gyeoul made eye contact with each person as he called their names, a trait of gentle leadership.
The first to be called energetically proposed.
"I suggest the name 'Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea' for our proud organization!"
The crowd laughed, not in mockery but in a wave of approval. Though the name was too grand for a group less than a hundred strong, the nostalgia felt by those who suffered from the lack of a homeland in a foreign land was profound. Gyeoul tilted his head, uncertain.
"The Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea? Isn't that a bit too grandiose? And I've heard the actual Korean government still maintains its lineage. Others might laugh at us."
"Eh, it’s better to aim high so the end is grand. Then how about 'Korean National Party'?"
This new suggestion was essentially an extension of the provisional government, both centered around Kim Gu and related to the independence movement. The 'Korean National Party' became the ruling party of the provisional government.
Choosing a name with strong national or ethnic characteristics would facilitate the influx of Korean refugees and foster a sense of identity, but it would also complicate accepting refugees from other countries and potentially attract hostility from nationalist groups.
Of course, not all Korean organizations were harmonious; struggles for dominance ensued.
"Maybe we should avoid such names. We need people with a strong sense of responsibility, but they are rare, aren’t they? I’d like to welcome anyone regardless of nationality. I don’t want to reject someone because they come from another country, hate them for their skin color, or ignore them because their language is unfamiliar."
He paused to catch his breath, then continued.
"I’d like to endure the hard days together with people who can help each other. If you really insist, then there's nothing I can do... but since you've agreed to join me, I hope you understand me."
Gyeoul hadn't always been so eloquent. When he first experienced this world, he was just a boy not yet fully matured.
But this was a virtual reality, a hedonistic imitation of reality. Assuming it was a well-crafted simulation, most of life’s lessons could be learned here too. Accumulated iterations amounted to a wealth of life experience, ample time for thoughts to mature. His matured thoughts were now presentable without embarrassment.
He had studied much in preparation for the public broadcast.
Really, so much.
And his efforts were not in vain. The reaction was positive. Some were moved to tears, though he didn't think the situation warranted such emotion. Clearly, circumstances significantly affected people. It might also be an adjustment due to favorability. The audience's messages were generally positive, praising the boy's acting skills. It was like watching a movie.
Murmurs could be heard outside the tent. His enhanced abilities allowed him to catch every word clearly.
Eavesdropping was of little concern. After settling on a name, various conversations would follow, but they were unlikely to discuss anything of great significance. More importantly, it was beneficial for other organizations to be certain of Gyeoul’s central role in this small community.
"If that's the spirit, how about 'Union' for something simple and easy to understand? It won’t feel foreign to non-nationals, and it lacks any national or ethnic color."
There were nods of agreement to this suggestion. Gyeoul wasn't expecting anything grand, so he nodded.
"I'll consider it as a candidate. Let's hear a few more before deciding."
Encouraged by the young leader’s positive response, those waiting eagerly raised their hands. They were earnest, though all that meant was their arms were stiff with effort. It was quite amusing to watch.
When a young man suggested 'Brotherhood', a female voice chimed in with a playful tone, "Include the women, please." Laughter broke out again, and he smiled sheepishly, scratching his head. Gyeoul assured him that his suggestion would also be considered.
A woman holding a baby raised her voice for 'Children of Tomorrow'. Given that she was speaking as a mother, her words carried weight. It was the same woman whose husband had joined the 'Damul Promotion Association' and taken a new wife, abandoning her. When first seen, her gaunt appearance made her seem much older, but now she looked rejuvenated. Her once brittle voice had regained its tone. It was good. She would sound pleasant singing.
But there was someone who perplexed Gyeoul.
"How about 'Gyeoul Alliance'?"
He thought he had misheard and questioned it, but they earnestly nodded in confirmation. It was awkward. It sounded like a gang named after its boss, Heedong, which was not quite appropriate, though Korean gang names are typically assigned by the police and thus a different case.
However, the elder who made the suggestion explained his reasoning.
"I would like to call this perilous time for all humanity 'Gyeoul'. It's meant to signify the hope that spring will inevitably come. 'Gyeoul Alliance' seems fitting as a call to unite and endure this cold season together."
TL/N: Reminder that Gyeoul’s name means Winter in Korean.
He pushed up his broken glasses.
"Of course, it's also fun to see our Little Captain a bit embarrassed."
As Gyeoul covered his face, a cheer erupted.
There were other decent suggestions, such as ‘Kvieta’ in Esperanto, meaning peace, calm, and stability, or ‘Chicago Abyss’ from a novel about the end of human civilization. However, none could surpass the support for ‘Gyeoul Alliance.’
Soon, the raised hands began to lower, and eventually, no one waited for their turn. The sparkling eyes, joyful regardless of age or gender, were almost dauntingly bright.
"I understand. I get it."
The young leader raised his hand, conceding defeat.
"I lose. From today, we are the 'Gyeoul Alliance.'"
Applause erupted. The viewer chat was also full of laughter. It seemed they enjoyed it. Stars were gifted by many, though they were mostly small amounts. The gratitude was heartfelt, coming from people who genuinely appreciated the boy's approach.
Despite unintentionally naming it after himself, the outcome wasn’t bad. The members would frequently recall this moment in the future.
He could roughly imagine the kind of talk that would spread to other organizations through the ears of eavesdroppers. It would be much, much different from the oppressive atmospheres of other groups. Of course, those thoroughly corrupt would see this as a sign of weakness, but there would be others who were shaken by it, making the profit and loss a matter entirely dependent on Gyeoul's capabilities.
"Everyone, please, a moment of your attention."
He clapped his hands to gather focus. The noise quickly subsided. If anyone chattered heedlessly, they would be discreetly nudged by their neighbors to silence.
Now came the challenging part. He could only hope his preparation and practice were sufficient. Gyeoul initiated the conversation in front of the quiet crowd.
"Now that we have a name, there's another important issue we need to agree upon. It's about our decision-making process... We can't just decide things haphazardly every time something comes up, right?"
The boy kept an eye on the community attributes and management screen visible only to him as he spoke.
"I'll share my thoughts first. Basically, I would like to be able to make decisions about everything we do together."
Many, swayed by the young leader, nodded in agreement. After all, that's how it had effectively been up to now. And they had been relying on him unilaterally.
The few who disagreed were split between those who thought everything should be decided by consensus and those who simply did not want to acknowledge the boy.
Gyeoul read them easily.
"I know, it sounds autocratic, right? But gathering everyone's opinions every time is realistically impossible. I repeat, not just difficult, but impossible. How likely is it that we'll all be together for every critical decision?"
Agreement increased slightly. The support and power indices for Gyeoul, as shown on the management screen, also depicted a slight upward curve. It seemed safe to proceed to a vote, but he decided to stir the pot a little more. It was time for a provocative word. What would be best?
One of the system assist keywords caught his eye.
"As you might guess, the United States wants to use us as cannon fodder."
Cannon fodder. The chosen jab elicited the expected response. Agitation. Targeting this agitation, Gyeoul embedded more realistic statements.
"Just mercenaries fed enough to survive, foreign workers unnecessary for hazard pay... Think about it. Why do they work so hard to portray me as a hero? Because I actually am? Hardly. It's all about creating an idol. An advertisement promising rewards for compliance."
There are times when self-deprecating rhetoric can establish authority. It's crucial to maintain a confident demeanor. Presenting the harsh reality, yet showing the will to not let it stand as is. Projecting confidence that there is a vision, regardless of whether he truly believed success was imminent. Leaders must always overflow with belief. Many skillful politicians, regardless of their moral compass, mastered this art.
It was a delicate balance, but he adjusted as he read the faces before him.
"The ones providing our food probably don't care what you think. They'll just demand decisions from me. To do or not to do. How can I seek your permission every time?"
There was no need to justify it further. He just had to prevent such situations.
In communication, the content of words is not hugely influential. Voice, encompassing tone, pitch, intonation, and emphasis, along with body language, is more critical. This is known as Mehrabian's law.
Gyeoul's rhetoric was a product of diligent study with streaming in mind. He was, after all, the protagonist. If one is to play a leader, learning the role is essential. To immerse and act.
To become not myself, but another self.
With the necessary gestures and escalating emotion, his appeal grew.
"So, to reiterate, realistically, we have no choice. If you can't accept this, I can't fully commit myself. Based on what you've seen so far, I hope you'll just trust me. If you think I might misuse my power to make you miserable, or if you can't trust the decisions I'd make as a leader, then let's just end it here. That would be easier for me too. But if not, please trust me."
He emphasized the inevitability of the situation and words like leader. He made it clear what they were choosing. The choice was given, albeit formally. Formal, yet the giving was what mattered. Positive responses increased. Enthusiastic gazes showed no trace of a leadership penalty.
He had overcome it. The boy had read, speculated, and was confident.
It was time to drive the point home. Those who had learned knew to shout with force at the end. Gyeoul did not.
In his own way, with a kind smile.
"What do you say? Will you do it?"
Restrained emotion, a concise final word. To the waiting audience, it was a signal. He was enveloped in a sound so intense it tingled his ears. Wherever he looked, there were applauding people, gazes absorbed in the boy, for better or worse.
A long, relieved sigh. It had gone well.
The man with glasses who had proposed ‘Gyeoul Alliance’ raised his hand.
"I have something to say to everyone."
Given his previous statements, it was unlikely to be anything bad. Gyeoul allowed him to speak.
"Please, go ahead."
He stood and bowed respectfully to those around him, giving a special nod to Gyeoul. It didn't appear servile, though; his eyes retained their pride, a glimpse of amoral intellect. Gyeoul felt he understood his disposition.
"First, I'd like to express my deep gratitude to our Little Captain. You all know there were many who didn't acknowledge him until now. I'm ashamed to say I was one of them. Honestly, I think there are still some who feel that way."
Pausing, the gentleman glanced around with a slight smile. Those who averted their gaze or tensed were likely the ones Gyeoul had previously filtered out.
"Yet, I finally feel like we've truly become one family. Not just the Little Captain, but everyone here. Until he appeared, we were just a group of people who belonged nowhere, merely companions in similar circumstances. Isn't that right?"
People were in agreement. This man must have held considerable influence even before Gyeoul's arrival. If Gyeoul had felt insecure, he would have remained hidden to the end.
As the person who had invited Gyeoul, Yeon-cheol seemed somewhat anxious. Gyeoul guessed why.
Groups exceeding a certain size in leadership scope tend to be fragile and problematic. One way to overcome this is by drawing influential figures into leadership roles. It is common for one community to consist of several smaller communities.
A person is a tool that can be made good or bad, depending on how they are handled.
"We have failed to properly appreciate our Little Captain until now. Not that we couldn't, but rather we chose not to. We underestimated him because of his youth and only thought of exploiting him when convenient. At least, I did. I'm sure I'm not alone in this. So, what I want to say is this."
He took a moment, then continued in a slightly lower voice.
"Let's not make the same mistake again. We have chosen to follow of our own accord. Let's not go back on that. Let's not waver. From what I see, no one in our alliance, no, in this camp can surpass our Little Captain. We lack the courage. It's embarrassing, but we are adults without substance. It's rare to find a sight as ugly as wanting respect just for being older. Let's discard useless pride, at least if we can't assist others with as much courage as our Little Captain."
If he could speak this extemporaneously, he was indeed capable. Gyeoul evaluated him. And this was also likely his objective. From him, a level of flattery that was not quite servile could be felt.
Indeed, as the majority of the audience concurred, a few began to be wary of this man. Gyeoul deemed it acceptable. Better this than viewing Gyeoul as a competitor. As Gyeoul's position solidified, those with ambition began to vie for the role of second-in-command.
"The Little Captain hasn't made unreasonable demands. Even in ordinary democracies, the president exercises emergency powers during a national emergency. They seize private property and issue conscription orders. It's the same principle. Haven't we called this 'Humanity's Gyeoul'? Isn't it natural for a leader, especially one we invited ourselves, to be granted strong authority?"
People sending applause. The man concluded his turn satisfactorily.
"That's all I wanted to say. However, if it's alright, I'd like to hear a few words about the future path of our alliance from the Captain himself. It's the day he truly became a Captain, after all. We can't go on without hearing a new inaugural speech, can we?"
Gyeoul smiled, albeit awkwardly. He hadn't prepared anything further. Becoming not himself seemed enough for today.
However, he did not refuse. Displaying a passive attitude in front of an audience sending admiration and expectation would be anticlimactic. For this reason, there are those who prefer watching the world rather than living in it. Technical and economic issues aside.
"I won't make a long speech."
Nodding, the boy continued, carefully considering his words yet maintaining a consistently gentle demeanor.
"Our primary task in the 'Gyeoul Alliance' is to survive, but I want to choose the harder path than just surviving because, unlike others outside who are becoming beast-like, we want to live as humans. Um, I believe that’s okay to say, right?"
And he concluded with a smile.
"That's all."
Some people were so immersed in the atmosphere that they cried. While mainly women, it was not hard to spot a teary-eyed man among them.
Footnotes:
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