WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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Chapter 391: Change (8)

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Lieutenant General Xieru pointed at the home theater with the hand holding her cigar.

"Have you ever seen that film?"

Their conversation seemed to have gone on for quite a while, but the screen was still in the middle of The Godfather. Gyeoul watched Don Corleone on the screen, trying to read the general's intent, then shook his head uncertainly.

"No. I know roughly what it is about, but I have never actually seen it."

"That is a shame. Make time for it someday when you are free. I think you would get a great deal from it."

"What did you get from it, Lieutenant General?"

"Opening the answer sheet before solving the problem is not a good habit."

"I doubt I will have another chance to ask."

"That is true."

The lieutenant general chuckled low in her throat.

"Fine. I will tell you. In the struggles of those Italian bumpkins, I found human nature reaffirmed."

Did she mean influence rooted in violence? The Godfather was a film about the mafia, so Gyeoul's guess could hardly be called rash. The American setting, and the lives of immigrants who had fallen outside the system, also overlapped with the refugees' situation. But that was not the answer the general had in mind. Holding a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other, she continued at an easy pace.

"Do you know that the origins of the mafia are the same as the fences of the Chinese people I told you about?"

"...I am not sure."

"This was when Italy was entering the modern era. In any country, industrialization and bourgeois capitalism drive many farmers from their land. Conflict between landlords trying to seize land and farmers trying to protect their lives was inevitable. At the time, the state was an active bystander. It had no reason to protect the farmers. After all, the farmers who were driven out could be fed into the factories. At absurdly low wages."

The self-mockery in her words was probably both a bitter smile directed at herself and a gloomy reflection on her old homeland. China was nominally communist, but in reality, no country suffered more severely from the ills of capitalism.

Gyeoul said, "So you are saying the mafia began when farmers, deprived of protection from public authority, started building fences to protect themselves."

"Yes."

The general nodded.

"Vendetta, the mafia's infamous revenge, began that way too. Blood for blood, death for death. It looked brutal from the outside, but at its core, it was no different from a hedgehog raising its spines. It was only later, after it became tangled up in full-scale crimes for profit, that it changed into something else."

"..."

"That did not change after they came to the New World. As you know, America was also a disorderly melting pot of humanity. It is also why the right to bear firearms is written into this country's Constitution. A legacy from an era when self-help was essential."

Mulling over the phrase "disorderly melting pot of humanity," Gyeoul nodded.

"I agree. America was that kind of country."

Otherwise, the dark chronicle of immigrants could hardly have remained one of the masterpieces of American film history. The history of the Corleone family touched on something traditional in the American spirit.

"China, America, Italy."

As she spoke, the lieutenant general kept her eyes on the screen.

"Even if the eras differ, the races differ, and even the regions and cultures differ, the same human nature exists always and everywhere. No one is free from it. People are merely divided into the lucky and the unlucky. I wanted you to remember that."

A sigh slipped in midway.

"The root of humanity does not change. So we have no choice but to pursue the best that is allowed to human beings."

Gyeoul sensed another meaning within the lieutenant general's words. This was advice for him, and at the same time, a defense of her own people. She was asking him to remember, whenever he saw things he clearly disliked, that those things were the result of them doing their own best to survive.

Once he realized that, Gyeoul felt a little choked up. Lieutenant General Xieru was an ordinarily bad and extraordinarily good person within the limits of humanity.

"That is all I needed."

The lieutenant general raised her glass.

"I do not want to keep a busy man too long. Finish that and go."

Gyeoul silently raised his glass in return.

"Cheers."

The full glass of brandy vanished, leaving a dark trace behind.

When they parted, the lieutenant general gave Gyeoul a book as a gift. It was a general-interest book about the history of revenge. The cover was quite worn. She had probably handed over a copy she often read herself. As Gyeoul left, roughly skimming the table of contents, he heard a voice calling him from behind. A familiar voice. Had he been staying in the same lodging as his mother? Gyeoul took off his hat and turned toward the stairs.

"Lieutenant Colonel Tan Guosheng?"

Standing in an awkward spot, he spoke without confidence, almost as if talking to himself.

"You are Lieutenant Colonel Han Gyeoul, right?"

After a brief hesitation, Gyeoul chose the safest words.

"It has been a long time. Though this is your first time seeing me in this form."

"In this form, huh..."

A bitter look spread over the lieutenant colonel's face as he muttered. Scruffy stubble covered his chin. Unlike his mother, he was not wearing a military uniform. His disheveled appearance stood in sharp contrast to Gyeoul's neat Dress Blue. For a long while, he stared blankly at Gyeoul, studying him. Gyeoul gave him time.

At last, the lieutenant colonel sighed.

"So Kurt Lee really does not exist."

"I will not apologize."

"I truly liked him. No, I respected him. I thought I would not regret giving him everything I had. I thought I wanted to live as his brother..."

"I did not dislike you either."

"You do not get to say that."

"..."

"After today, I will consider myself to have neither grudge nor debt toward the lieutenant colonel. The person who saved me was not Lieutenant Colonel Han Gyeoul, but Kurt Lee. So you should forget too. That is what you can do for me."

With that changed tone, the lieutenant colonel closed the book on their relationship, then bowed his head to Gyeoul.

"Then please take care on your way. It was good to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel."

The wooden staircase creaked softly. Gyeoul watched until the lieutenant colonel disappeared upstairs. His enhanced hearing caught Lieutenant General Xieru's mutter through the wall. Foolish boy. The sound of her clicking her tongue in displeasure followed. Gyeoul let out a sigh into the silence afterward, then turned away.

Anne checked Gyeoul's mood.

"You are all right, yes?"

Even if she had not understood the Chinese, there was such a thing as atmosphere. Gyeoul shrugged as he got into the car.

"What is there for me to not be all right about? If anything, I feel a little relieved."

"If so, that is good..."

She did not ask anything more. During the ride back along the road swept by autumn wind, Gyeoul opened the book the lieutenant general had given him. In the introduction, the author concisely explained why revenge had been considered honorable in both East and West, and what meaning it had held. The endless chain of retaliation and hatred was one branch of the muddy current Gyeoul hated. But as Lieutenant General Xieru had said, its origins could not be regarded as the expression of pure evil. It was a book that understood and affirmed people.

After turning a few pages, Gyeoul noticed Anne's gaze and raised his head.

"Are you seriously still worried? I told you, I am fine."

When he asked, Anne, who had looked a little dazed, reacted as if she had just woken up.

"That is not it... I personally dislike cigarettes, but Gyeoul with the smell of smoke on him is unexpectedly not bad."

"...Anne?"

"Ah."

"..."

"..."

A moment later, Gyeoul began reading the book again. The pages turned more slowly than before.

President MacMillan woke up three days before Thanksgiving. All of America went wild at the news. The shadow left by treason had not been fully erased, but many more people now thought of it as something already past. Two days later, on Wednesday, Gyeoul received a private summons from the president. The president welcomed Gyeoul from his sickbed and said, jokingly, with a weak smile on his face.

"Unfortunate. In this state, I will not be able to keep my promise."

"Your promise... Ah."

It was the beer he had first mentioned in April, confirmed in October, and whose date had already passed. The president glanced at the First Lady and smacked his lips.

"The taste of the beer itself matters, but so do when, where, and with whom you drink it. A drink with you would have become a lifelong memory. A real shame."

"There will be another chance later."

"By then I will no longer be president, will I? Drinking with the night view behind the Oval Office will be impossible. In my own way, that promise was meant to mark the end of my term. It was supposed to be a commemorative drink as I set everything down."

"Perhaps it is better this way. A sitting president should not break the law, no matter how minor the offense."

"Break the law?"

"You seem to have forgotten, but I am still not twenty-one."

At Gyeoul's words, MacMillan burst into a weak laugh.

"Goodness. If this were my home state, I would have told you to hurry up and get married."

Judging by the playful sidelong glance, the president seemed to know about Gyeoul's relationship with Anne. In some states, there were no restrictions on drinking if one's spouse was twenty-one or older. His home state was probably one of them.

"Where are you from?"

"Louisiana."

"Is it a good place to live?"

"Would you like the official position or the unofficial one?"

"I would like to hear both."

"Officially, it is my heavenly home. Unofficially, it floods whenever it gets bored and is a complete nuisance. I cannot say the public order or the residents' awareness are all that good either. That place gave me so much trouble throughout my term... Still, the food is quite delicious. The crawfish dishes are probably the best in America."

Maybe it was because he felt it was time to set down his burdens, or maybe because Gyeoul's help had been so important in suppressing the rebellion, but MacMillan's manner was much friendlier and more easygoing than before. Gyeoul said, "Despite what you say, I can tell you miss it."

"Can you?"

"Yes. You will be able to go back soon."

"Go back..."

Muttering, the president blinked a few times.

"Yes. My role ends here. Now times beyond my reach will come. Many things will change, and many things will not. Lieutenant Colonel. I hope you will be someone who does not change."

Gyeoul knew what he meant, but feeling his own changes in a different sense, he could not answer right away. MacMillan continued.

"This country went through many trials and errors in the Middle East. When establishing Middle East policy, the hardest part was finding local figures worth supporting. If we provided funds, there was not a single person who did not siphon them away. With that being the case, no matter how much money we poured in, how could the regional situation possibly stabilize?"

"Are you saying..."

"Under the next administration, the Refugee Leader Support Act will function as a cold-blooded trap."

"..."

"Of course, Kramer is not the type to lie. His statement that he will give everyone a chance is likely the truth exactly as stated. But once those selected for support have become sufficiently corrupt, he will cut them off without mercy. This is not the Middle East, after all. There is no reason to be tied down."

After a breath, the conclusion followed.

"And that will become the justification for the budget cuts that come after. Later recipients of support will remain bound forever by the original sin left behind by their predecessors."

It was an area Gyeoul had failed to consider. He had always had too many other things to think about, and part of it was also because, without realizing it, he had used himself as the standard. Gyeoul felt one worry he had pushed into the shadows of his mind slowly regain its weight.

The president was still a patient who needed rest, so the conversation that followed did not last long. If he was to appear before the public on Thanksgiving Day, he had to conserve his strength now.

When Gyeoul left, the First Lady personally saw him out. She said his presence had been a great source of strength to her husband all this time, and she seemed truly grateful to Gyeoul.

Footnotes:

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