WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Little Prince in the Ossuary

TL NOTE:

Hello everyone, it’s been a while but we’re finally back at it with LPO translations. Now, it has been a long long time and I have grown as a translator in that time and changed my views on certain ways to translate some terms. You might notice me using honorifics going forward and changing some minor terms here and there as I see fit. Apologies for the inconvenience and I hope you keep enjoying our adventures with Gyeoul.

00039 <-- #Journal & #Internal Strengthening -->

------------------------------------------------------------------------

#Journal, Page 62, Camp Roberts

The morning after I returned from Santa Maria, I could see myself on every TV channel. The uniform captions made me feel hot with embarrassment, each one proclaiming this the "Miracle of Santa Maria." The media, desperate for patriotic stories to report, poured out all kinds of positive commentary about me, and even the Defense Department spokesman made an appearance to emphasize that I was an American citizen and announced they were considering rewards befitting such a heroic act.

I was relieved to see the media's attitude toward the refugee problem becoming more favorable.

Lieutenant Capston took this matter quite seriously.

"Ensign Han Gyeoul, I know you're exceptional, but you went too far this time. How could you think to run alone into the middle of a battlefield? If you had died, what about the people who depend on you?"

I told him it was to save people, but he wasn't convinced.

"That's a noble sentiment, but think rationally. You have talents the world needs. You must live a long life, because the longer you live, the more people you'll save through your existence. Those you can't save immediately are, to put it coldly, just a small number."

I told him that no one in this world was ordinary, that I couldn't replace the one person I couldn't save right now with other people I might save later. The lieutenant moved on to point out another problem.

"Do you perhaps feel a sense of responsibility toward the refugees, thinking that if you perform well, the treatment of the other refugees will improve too? Is that why you're taking risks?"

He was always such a considerate person. Only after I promised to be more careful next time did he let me go, though still with a look of doubt.

On the way to the refugee district, I ran into Captain Markert. When I saluted, he returned it with a sour expression. He was coming out of the Chinese resident district, which made me wonder what a racist would be doing there.

People were gathered in the central clearing of the district. When I checked what was happening, it turned out they were watching a broadcast. They had set up a large open-sided tent with a white screen hanging underneath. The projector's light was clear thanks to the gloomy winter weather.

Military police patrols were frequent in the central clearing, so I quickly found a familiar soldier. When I asked what this was about, he said it was orders from the Defense Department's Public Information Office. He looked at me with curious eyes and asked if what was on the screen was real. I told him it was, and he was pleased, saying he'd won a bet.

A bet?

After he left, I watched the screen from a distance. My objectified image felt unfamiliar. On the screen, someone who looked like a different version of me engaged in fierce combat with five infected mutants. Every time the mutants' snapping teeth came close, all the refugees, regardless of nationality, held their breath. With each one I took down, deep sighs of admiration escaped from those who couldn't contain themselves, building layer by layer. Listening to them made my face burn hot. It was embarrassing before it was something to be proud of. I found myself thinking only about why the military drone's recording resolution had to be so high.

I tried to leave before anyone noticed me, but someone had already turned around. Starting with him, many began murmuring. The blatant hostility I'd faced before had diminished. Instead, there were more eyes that seemed intimidated or afraid. Beyond that, there was longing and greed, and occasionally I caught glimpses of worship.

Faced with these swelling emotions, I wanted to retreat. I tried to act natural and hoped it didn't look like I was running away.

#Journal, Page 63, Camp Roberts

The "Gyeoul Alliance" had become quieter than before, specifically when I was around.

The released footage must have been too shocking. Everyone looked at me differently than before. More people were intimidated, and more people were flattering. Even Park Jin-seok-ssi was no exception. The only ones who hadn't changed were Yura-ssi and Vice-Captain Min Wan-ki-nim. Min-nim just laughed and said he was impressed.

Either way, what was certain was that no one dismissed me as young anymore.

The changed atmosphere was uncomfortable for me too, but I would have to endure it while hoping things would gradually improve.

#Internal Strengthening (1), Camp Roberts

The apocalypse in this world view had a regular cycle. Like ice ages and interglacial periods repeating, after experiencing one harsh event, a quiet period would arrive. It felt like consideration to let us fully savor the atmosphere of the world ending. Of course, this was also time to prepare for the next stage.

Gyeoul judged that right now was an interglacial period. He needed to prepare for when the wheel of apocalypse would roll again. He had to take this opportunity to strengthen his foundations and give concrete form to the "Gyeoul Alliance's" combat capabilities.

So he got training plans approved by the operations officer. Since Gyeoul's direct superior was the battalion commander, this was natural. The operations officer requested a written plan but wasn't particularly strict about it. In fact, he showed considerable consideration, issuing training uniforms and combat rations, and even giving permission to use US military facilities for showers and meals. The Miracle of Santa Maria must have been quite impressive to him as well.

Gyeoul invested the experience resources he'd acquired at Santa Maria into "Instruction." He had trained in it often because it was essential for leadership, and "Talent Advantage" played a large role, meaning the burden was light. Still, the boundary between Grade 10 and 11 required thought. He wanted to preserve some capacity to maximize his combat skills as much as possible.

His long deliberation ended when he saw Yura. Hearing they would begin training, she showed tremendous tension that matched her high motivation. When she walked, her right foot and right hand moved forward together. Gyeoul nodded and raised "Instruction" to Grade 11.

He selected reserve combat members at three times the needed number. He planned to weed out those unqualified as training progressed. He kept the male-to-female ratio even.

Excluding the most special existence in this world view, the Players, the remaining characters were within the realm of common sense. Training started with physical training, PT.

"Isn't… isn't this… too much… from the… start?"

"No, it's not."

Gyeoul's light answer. She looked at Gyeoul resentfully but couldn't even manage that and hung her head deeply. She was panting so hard she could barely speak. The 2-mile run, 3.2 kilometers, must have been her first time. She looked frustrated and threw off her vest that mixed orange and yellow colors. Thick beads of sweat ran down along her jawline.

Still, Yura was in relatively good condition. Several people were vomiting here and there. The rest were sprawled out flat without any regard for appearances and weren't moving. The men were no different.

The reserve members Gyeoul had selected weren't excellent resources from the start.

Sergeant Pierce from 3rd Company, who had butted in to offer training advice, found it remarkable that Gyeoul's instructions made sense. On top of that, he seemed a bit surprised by the boy's physical fitness enhanced by skill corrections.

It wasn't as if he had just stood around giving orders. Running together, Gyeoul overtook the leaders and ran an extra lap around the drill field. Seeing this, the sergeant laughed heartily and also ran an extra lap himself.

Even so, no combat team members came in earlier than these two.

"You're certainly exceptional, Ensign."

"You're quite impressive for your age too, Sergeant-nim."

Sergeant Pierce burst out laughing again, his expression saying "look at this kid."

Gyeoul checked the viewer messages. If he was thinking about the broadcast, he should have let it proceed automatically, but then he'd have trouble seeing the effects of "Instruction." It was unavoidable manual progression, but surprisingly, the response wasn't bad.

Men were creatures who enjoyed watching even aerobics if the women were pretty. Of course, women also liked sexy men drenched in sweat. That was the true nature of the satisfaction the viewers felt. When he received requests to get better glimpses of Yura's figure, Gyeoul wanted to sigh.

To make matters worse, a viewer quest attached itself. They wanted to see Yura vomit and asked him to torment her more. This time he really did sigh, and Gyeoul refused the mission.

The sergeant, who couldn't know what was going on internally, interpreted Gyeoul's sigh in a different direction.

"Are you disappointed?"

"No, not at all. I was just thinking about something else."

The black man went "hmm" skeptically but didn't probe further. He moved to a practical conversation.

"Running is the most basic thing, that's true, but what's really needed in combat situations is short-term endurance. Once everyone adapts a bit, you should have them do shuttle runs instead of the 2-mile runs."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Gyeoul checked the augmented reality UI. The linkage between "Instruction" and "Insight" told him the appropriate exercise load and rest time for each individual, and even where their limits were.

"Alright, everyone get up now."

"What? Already? Isn't excessive exercise counterproductive?"

"By my assessment, you've rested enough."

"Hiiing, Little Captain... let us rest just a bit more..."

One of the female members made a crying sound. Just as he was wondering if driving them too hard might create a bad image for the broadcast, Sergeant Pierce beside him drew his attention. He pointed at his own cap.

"Ensign, when you're wearing this, you have to become a devil."

Gyeoul was wearing the same cap, the wide-brimmed instructor's cap. The boy made an apologetic expression toward the people desperate for rest.

"That's what he says. Everyone stand up."

"No..."

Crying sounds leaked out from here and there, mostly from the women except for a few men. Sergeant Pierce really did become a devil, making them lie down and roll around until everyone was covered in dirt.

The person who did the best wasn't Yura, but the person who tried the hardest was Yura. When things got really tough, she would glance at Gyeoul once and grit her teeth. Gyeoul recalled what she had said, that she would try not to disappoint him. She was putting her words into practice. That was a quality of a good person.

Lunchtime. He distributed MREs, military rations, to everyone. The operations officer had released these supplies, saying that eating such rations was also part of training. Considering how refugees had been treated before, it was clear what expectations were being placed on the refugee volunteer force.

"Ugh... isn't this kind of salty?"

A few women whined. MREs were salty even to American tastes, which normally preferred salty food.

"You need to replenish the salt lost through sweat. You'll get used to it."

Exhausted people found even eating itself difficult. Still, they ate in the end. These were people who had deep grievances about eating.

As the break lengthened, everyone looked for the clothes they'd thrown off. Camp Roberts' winter weather was like Korea's late autumn, and the wind on an overcast day was enough to make them feel cold.

Using this time, Sergeant Pierce taught them a military cadence. People found even memorizing it difficult because it was in English. Those who knew some English chuckled quietly at the witty lyrics.

After putting them through another round in the afternoon, the sergeant made a suggestion to Gyeoul.

"How about feeding them all dinner, having them shower, then marching them back to quarters at double-time?"

"To show off?"

When Gyeoul hit the nail on the head, the sergeant with dark skin showed white teeth.

"Ensign, you're quick on the uptake too. We know it as well, that there's fierce power games among the refugees. Even something trivial like a double-time march would be very conspicuous in the middle of that trash heap."

"Is that also why you taught them the cadence?"

"Killing two birds with one stone. What kind of soldier doesn't know at least one military song?"

Dinner was a happy time for the reserve members. The enlisted dining hall was opened to them, although it was after the US military had used it. Even if it had become more modest than before, the menu prepared for regular troops was qualitatively different from the refugee distribution. Gyeoul had to work hard to prevent them from gorging themselves, because it would be terrible if anyone got sick.

When hot showers were also provided after the meal, the women burst into tears. The time limit was 10 minutes, sufficient for men but far too short for women. Still, everyone had the best expressions on their faces.

Gyeoul accepted the sergeant's suggestion. In the dusky hour, they passed through the refugee district's checkpoint at double-time. The reserve members mumbled through the cadence they'd learned during the day.

One two three four one two three four

My old grandmother when she was ninety-one

She did PT just for fun.

My old grandmother when she was ninety-two

If you're in her way, she would step on you.

My old grandmother when she was ninety-three

She did PT up in a tree!

...

My old grandmother when she was ninety-seven

She up and died and went to heaven

She met Saint Peter at the pearly gates!

She said, "Hey Peter, I hope I'm not late."

Saint Peter looked at her and grinned.

He said, "Drop grandmother, give me ten!"

The US soldiers guarding the checkpoint laughed openly. To them, the reserve members' appearance must have seemed novel. Throughout passing several sections, the refugees who came out to watch had dumbfounded expressions.

The reserve members seemed to have started enjoying this too. Even while their legs hurt and they struggled, they kept snickering.

Footnotes:

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried