WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 358: A Splendid Invitation (10)

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Horses were animals that could not control their bowels to begin with. People just rarely had the chance to see one express such fierce affection for its owner. Only after Xcel calmed down could Gyeoul approach and scratch the back of his neck. Judging by the softness of his coat and the faintness of his horse smell, he seemed to have been well cared for all this time. When Gyeoul climbed into the saddle, the handler who had dropped the reins shuffled over.

“Um, I, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Nobody got hurt.”

Gyeoul looked down at the thoroughly cowed man.

“Manuel Hayes, right?”

“Yes... You remember someone like me.”

His curly hair had grown longer than when Gyeoul had last seen him. He was the prisoner Gyeoul had met at the ranch by the Russian River, which also served as a religious retreat. Unlike the other handlers, he was still wearing a prison uniform.

‘A display piece?’

In a way, he must have been another piece of evidence tracing Gyeoul’s path. As far as public information went, citizens knew almost everything about Gyeoul. In some ways, they knew parts of it better than Gyeoul himself did. Detailed analyses of the places he had passed through or stayed in, recollections and evaluations from people who had been with him, photographs whose timing he could not even guess. Even interviews were circulating with old Luke, the civilian pilot who had asked him to sign a comic book for his grandson.

The prisoner apologized again.

“I’m sorry...”

“I said it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“...That isn’t it. There’s one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Gyeoul tilted his head slightly.

“What is it?”

“I failed to take proper care of your horse, Lieutenant Colonel... and, uh... it died.”

“...?”

There was too little context to make sense of it. Only after questioning him for a while did Gyeoul understand what Hayes was talking about. The cavalry scouts he had encountered at Olema had been riding golden horses of a famous breed, and Gyeoul had once been told that a horse of that breed would be given to him too. The President of Turkmenistan, who had abandoned his country, was taking an interest in America’s war hero.

“So you’re saying the horse gifted by the President of Turkmenistan died?”

“Yes...”

“Hmm.”

Gyeoul almost said, It doesn’t really matter, but swallowed the words when he remembered the cameras. The man was human trash who had prioritized preserving rare horses over evacuating his own citizens, but if Gyeoul openly dismissed his goodwill on air, troublesome consequences might come back later.

‘There are also rumors that what he prioritized even over the famous horses was the central bank’s dollars and gold bars.’

In other words, he might be human garbage, but he was extremely rich human garbage.

Gyeoul was not thinking about investments or anything of the sort. He was worried that money might explode in some unexpected way. Abundant funds could easily become firewood for dangerous sparks.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a potential risk he had not considered until now. Vast sums of money in the hands of people who lacked anything resembling common sense. What would happen if that money combined with corrupt political forces? For example, that Blasphemous League.

It would be better for people like that to remain friendly toward the current administration.

At the same time, he thought the FBI must really have its hands full. How many opaque streams of flight capital had flowed in from overseas? There were many targets to watch and the scope was broad, so their existing capabilities would struggle to handle it all. This was probably why the CIA, once rumored to be on the verge of dissolution, had managed to keep its organization intact. If they blindly merged organizations, all they would get was discord and power struggles.

‘I just hope they don’t miss things even when they know...’

There were too many sources of anxiety. Far too many.

Gyeoul moved on with a safe question.

“That’s unfortunate. How did it die?”

The curly-haired prisoner, Manuel Hayes, pointed at Xcel.

“T, this one... with one kick from his hind legs...”

“A dominance fight?”

“Yes, that’s it. A dominance fight.”

“...”

Whether Xcel knew they were talking about him or not, he kept snorting. If he had been human, it would have been an expression of satisfaction and relief. From the perspective of a horse who remembered being chased for so long by a mutant horde, there was no need to fear anything while carrying Gyeoul.

‘Surely he won’t hold a grudge over something like this...’

Even as he thought it, a slight worry lingered in Gyeoul’s mind. The dictator sounded so wildly unreasonable that Gyeoul could not help wondering.

At any rate, the accident itself was plausible enough. A horse’s kick could sometimes smash a ten-centimeter-thick wooden board and tear through thin sheet metal. During dominance fights, lacerations more than a handspan deep could occur. Of course, Xcel killing a world-famous breed of horse in one blow was not exactly normal.

Gyeoul scratched the black horse’s neck.

“You could have gone a little easier on him.”

Brrr. Xcel snorted energetically again.

“I’m sorry, Sir...”

Gyeoul shook his head at Hayes, who was apologizing yet again.

“That’s enough. What can we do about something that’s already happened?”

“But... I heard that horse was worth a full six hundred thousand dollars...”

“Stop. Even if it was a gift, the horse that died was mine, and if I say I won’t hold you responsible, that’s the end of it. You couldn’t pay it back anyway, could you?”

The prisoner’s face went a little pale. He seemed to have been worried Gyeoul might demand repayment.

“There’s nothing in it for me if your sentence gets extended. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to personally ask the gift-giver for understanding later. So stop now.”

The latter part was said with the cameras in mind. Prisoner Hayes thanked him with tears in his eyes.

The point of this event was to show that the city outskirts were safe. Yet fewer than twenty heroes were riding horses to Hoover Dam. Many of them could not ride. They were already touring Hoover Dam.

Major Long was one of the exceptional few who could handle horses at a level comparable to Gyeoul’s 「Riding」. That was because his unit, the Green Berets, had once operated as cavalry on a Middle Eastern battlefield. Though he had not taken part in that operation himself, he had steadily trained his riding skills because, given the nature of his unit, he might face such an operation someday. Most of all, he used to be a cowboy.

The Major, who had put some distance between himself and the rest of the group while showing off his skill, came closer to Gyeoul.

“May I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“How do you usually respond when people you’ve just met try to give you something out of nowhere?”

“...Why are you asking that?”

“Well, I need advice from someone with experience.”

“Advice from someone with experience?”

“Yes. Truth is, ever since the breakfast reception earlier, all kinds of pathetic nobodies have been approaching me. They want to do business together, give me gifts, that sort of thing. Even after the FBI and the public affairs office filtered them once, it was still like that. Even when their identities check out, I feel damn uncomfortable just accepting things.”

“...”

“While I was feeling troubled, I heard your conversation with that prisoner earlier... Ah, I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose. Anyway, after hearing it, I figured you must have had more experience with this sort of thing. So I’m asking how you usually respond.”

Gyeoul gathered his thoughts for a moment, then answered.

“I think it’s not bad to accept most things. As long as it stays within limits that won’t ruin you.”

The Major looked doubtful.

“Are you serious?”

“I received that advice too. That even if it causes some problems later, it’s better than worrying in advance and cutting everything off.”

“Who said that?”

“Two people. But even if I told you who, it probably wouldn’t mean anything.”

Brigadier General Laughlin and old Kang Yeong-sun. Major Long would not know either of them. Gyeoul recalled their words.

“First, one of them said this. 「Even if you wonder whether this is really all right, accept most gifts when they say they’re giving them to you. The interest and affection directed at you may be a passing trend, and an opportunity that will never come again. The heroes of Iwo Jima, who once received the love and respect of the entire nation, are an example. Their later years were not good, and some even died on the roadside. That is how fickle the world’s attention is...」”

It was thoughtful advice, and at the same time an ominous prediction about Gyeoul’s future.

Among the heroes of Iwo Jima, the one who died on the roadside was Ira Hayes, a Native American. He had certain similarities with Gyeoul, who came from a refugee background. Brigadier General Laughlin had kept that in mind.

Major Long reacted with deep discomfort.

“...Died on the roadside? If someone said that kind of curse in front of me, I’d seriously consider punching them.”

Rich coming from someone who had told Captain Palmer that he might die early if he kept saying things like that. Paying no attention to Gyeoul’s bitter smile, Major Long asked again.

“So what did the other person say?”

“「The goodwill of people you aren’t close to is like drunkenness at a lively drinking party. Things done while drunk can’t be helped, even if they regret them after sobering up.」 It was probably meant as advice to make suitable use of people depending on who they are.”

“Hmm...”

The Major rubbed his chin. Old Kang Yeong-sun’s advice was brief, but it had depth.

“I understand for now. If I keep grabbing whatever they offer, I feel like I’ll ruin myself... But in a way, maybe there’s nothing left to ruin. I’m a man who’ll live alone and die alone. It’s not like I’ll see my child again.”

“Why not? You should have invited them this time. Don’t tell me you didn’t even contact them.”

Family invitations were standard for events in Washington, D.C. The Major answered bluntly.

“What contact am I supposed to make with a woman who’s started a new family and a girl who keeps calling her father by his name? If they want to come, they will. They must have received the invitation.”

“...”

There was something tainted in those words, but Gyeoul did not point it out. Advice the other person would not accept was nothing but self-satisfaction.

After passing the substation and reaching their destination, the cavalry took photographs with the vast structure blocking the Colorado River as their backdrop. It was American history recovered by America.

From there, the march headed back toward Las Vegas. The applause and cheers, like the sound of hard rain, continued unchanged. A naked man blocked the parade line and ran around until control personnel caught him. Some groups tried hard to make sure the pickets bearing their slogans appeared on camera, or at least caught Gyeoul’s eye.

One of those slogans stayed in his memory.

「Queen of Britain, do not steal our hero.」

It was a phrase he saw during one of Gyeoul’s solo events, a meeting with the citizens of Hawthorne.

After returning to the hotel, Gyeoul asked Anne what it meant.

“Ah, that’s...”

Anne narrowed her brows.

“It’s a little... politically delicate.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s talk that the Queen of Britain will grant knighthoods to you and several other Medal of Honor recipients. It isn’t just a rumor. I hear their cabinet is discussing it quite seriously.”

Gyeoul felt confused.

“Why would Britain give me a title?”

“You know the core pledge of the Democratic Party presidential candidate, right?”

“The establishment of the United States of Humanity?”

“Yes. That.”

With just that, Gyeoul felt as if he roughly understood. Anne’s explanation confirmed his guess.

“Gyeoul, you haven’t directly contributed to Britain’s security. And yet, granting you a title would support the view that the quarantine war is a human problem beyond national borders... In other words, it’s a symbolic act indirectly expressing support for Democratic Party candidate Burns.”

“Mm... There’s still something I don’t understand.”

Gyeoul frowned slightly.

“I heard Britain strongly opposes Canada leaving the Commonwealth, so isn’t supporting the United States of Humanity plan a contradiction? It’s called the United States of Humanity, but in the end, it’s basically the same as Britain being absorbed by America.”

“I hear opinions are divided inside the British government too. But...”

“But?”

“They would rather have candidate Burns than Republican Party candidate Kramer, who advocates America First isolationism. And there’s no guarantee the United States of Humanity plan will go smoothly all the way to the end.”

The Republican Party would obstruct it right away. The British government, which was siding with candidate Burns now, might be lobbying from the opposite side by then. Rather than a prediction, it felt closer to prophecy.

Then Anne said something unexpected.

“The Korean government may try the same thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Korean President is in Washington. In fact, they bought Gyeoul’s time too.”

Buying his time meant donating to the defense donation fund and receiving part of Gyeoul’s schedule. Politicians, businesspeople, celebrities, and others who would not hesitate to spend millions of dollars on advertising for their own image generally wanted to spend time with Gyeoul in some way. It was the same principle as putting a five-million-dollar price tag on thirty seconds of Super Bowl advertising.

Gyeoul did wonder where on earth the Korean government had gotten the money to buy his time.

‘Was that what he was warning me about?’

What Gyeoul recalled was his dinner with California State Senator Talton Brennan. Brennan belonged to the Republican Party. Gyeoul had already wondered if it had been somewhat deliberate that a broadcast featuring presidential candidates had been left on before the meal...

Interpreted from this angle, Brennan must have been sending the message that Gyeoul needed to act carefully for his proposal to remain valid. No wonder the offer had seemed too convenient.

Of course, he could not have spoken so plainly about his real intentions. Later, it could become controversial, as though he had threatened Gyeoul. For all Gyeoul knew, their conversation back then might have been recorded. A safeguard in case Gyeoul tried to shape public opinion.

“I understand what you mean.”

Gyeoul nodded.

“I’ll ask one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“When I was meeting the citizens of Hawthorne earlier, I noticed an unusual number of people wearing similar clothes. Black clothes with a skull pattern and 「Prince of doom」 written in white. Is that also the symbol of some religious group? The security team didn’t stop them, so I don’t think they’re an extremist group, but for some reason it bothered me...”

He had wondered if they were members of the Blasphemous League, or of an extremist group on a similar level.

Anne burst out laughing before Gyeoul even finished asking.

“I was bracing myself, wondering what this would be, and then you suddenly hit me with that.”

“What do you mean, hit you with that?”

“You really don’t know? That’s your nickname, Gyeoul.”

“...My nickname?”

“Yes.”

“Why would I have a nickname like that...?”

“It probably started when the combat footage from Santa Maria was released. Especially that scene where you beat a ghoul to death with a rifle stock. It gained cult popularity.”

“...”

Now that he thought about it, he vaguely remembered hearing something about a POD faction. Team Leader Chadwick had even spouted some nonsense about a fan club faction the moment they first met.

No wonder bearded macho men in clothes with skulls on them had been giving him such warm reactions. Some of them had clasped Gyeoul’s hand and teared up from emotion.

“...I shouldn’t have asked. I was better off not knowing.”

Anne was amused.

“You hate it?”

“It’s not that I hate it. It’s embarrassing.”

“Heh heh.”

After laughing to her satisfaction, Anne straightened her posture.

“Gyeoul. I know there are a lot of things bothering you, but don’t worry so much. We’re doing our best to keep anything unpleasant from happening too. We should be able to prevent most accidents in advance. So think only about your own problems.”

“...All right.”

“Come to think of it, the former independent company members said they were gathering at the bar. Why don’t you go too? They said they’d wait for you.”

“What about you, Anne?”

“I’d feel a little out of place there.”

Go on. She gave Gyeoul a light push.

The luxury hotel had several bars, and the independent company members seemed to have chosen one of the relatively small ones. But Gyeoul stopped before opening the door. The conversation leaking out from inside was far more relaxed than it ever was when Gyeoul was present.

“Huh? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you going in?”

The person who asked was Yura. Whether she had been inside and stepped out briefly or was just coming back from somewhere, there was a faint smell of alcohol on her.

Gyeoul pointed inside with his thumb.

“I was just about to go back to my room. I don’t think they’d be able to talk like that if I were there.”

“Talk like what?”

After listening for a moment, Yura pressed a hand to her forehead and groaned.

“Those guys... They don’t know who might be listening.”

“What’s wrong with a little cursing or some dirty jokes? It happens.”

When people had rough experiences, it was normal for their speech to become rough too. The only issue was making sure they did not say anything that could cause controversy, and there were people inside who could control that much. If Gyeoul had really been worried, he would have gone in himself and left a word of warning.

The former independent company members did need to be careful of public attention, but controlling even this much would be excessive.

Yura watched Gyeoul’s expression.

“Please don’t feel hurt.”

“About what?”

“The kids being careful in front of you, Captain. That’s different from keeping their distance. Um, because of your age, they have no choice but to be even more careful in case it looks like they’re disrespecting you. The less they mean it that way, the more they like and respect you, Little Captain, the more careful they become.”

Gyeoul smiled.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know that? I just want everyone to be comfortable when they’re having fun. For that, it’s better if I’m not there. Besides, in principle, anyone under twenty-one is banned from entering.”

Even though he added a joke at the end, Yura stared at Gyeoul and asked.

“...Aren’t you lonely, always being like that? Everyone only relies on you, but you have nowhere to rely on yourself. You don’t have anyone you can treat casually, like those kids do.”

After thinking for a moment, Gyeoul answered.

“I do.”

“What?”

“I said I do have people like that.”

To be precise, perhaps he should say they were people he wanted to rely on. Star Child and Anne. Two and one, one and two.

If he asked Star Child, he felt they would say they were two. After all, they had said it themself. Before Gyeoul, they became one being distinct from everything that made up the afterlife, from flowing river water, a campfire that kindled sparks, clouds in the sky, all the way to the sun beyond them and the moon rising at night.

Therefore, from Star Child’s perspective, a virtual personality was like A Stone by the Roadside. In other words, it was them and not them at the same time. At least at the moment Gyeoul asked.

“Ah...”

Yura reacted a little late.

“I see. You did have someone...”

After murmuring that, she soon gave a gentle smile.

“That’s good. It really is.”

She did not seem curious about who Gyeoul relied on.

Footnotes:

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