WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 455: Stuffed Paradise (17)

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Clack, clack. The aluminum blinds swayed lightly. Wind was blowing in through the broken window. When Gyeoul pulled the cord and raised the blinds, downtown Philadelphia came into view all at once beyond the glass. The shattered window was proof that this building had been fired on overnight. So were the bullet marks left in the walls and ceiling.

Still, it was a peaceful morning, as if last night’s unrest had been a lie. Sunlight, cut by the window frame, fell across the floor in neat diamond shapes. Standing by the window in that light, Gyeoul straightened his rumpled clothes. As he buttoned them, his fingers brushed his mouth, where a trace of emotion still lingered.

Today, he had been able to let go of at least a little of the discomfort and helplessness that had been piling up for so long. At the end of that chance, he had shared warmth, if only for a short while, with the person he loved. The satisfaction Gyeoul felt was only natural. No, maybe it was closer to relief than satisfaction.

Shwaaaa-

The sound of flushing water came from the bathroom. Next came the creak, creak of a faucet being turned. Listening to that small, ordinary noise, Gyeoul leaned against the window frame at an angle and waited for Anne to come out. She had only been out of sight for a moment, yet he already wanted to see her again. Gyeoul wished she would always stay somewhere he could see her.

A little while later, Anne opened the door and came out. Like Gyeoul, she began smiling the moment their eyes met. They would have to part again soon, but the more they thought about that in advance, the faster the joy of being together would wither. That was wisdom the two of them had learned through experience.

They trusted that their feelings would remain unchanged even when they met again later. For now, the best thing they could do was fully enjoy this moment when they could lean on each other.

“Mm?”

A mischievous glint entered Anne’s eyes as she looked at Gyeoul.

“Gyeoul. Are you planning to go out looking like that?”

“Why?”

When Gyeoul tilted his head, Anne touched near her own neck, her face slightly flushed.

“On your neck. Lipstick.”

“Ah...”

“Stay still. I’ll wipe it off.”

Anne stepped right up to him, took Gyeoul by both arms, and brought her lips to his neck. He wondered what she was doing, then realized she meant to lick it off with her tongue. Gyeoul glanced at the clock and felt awkward, but he let her do what she wanted. A warm, moist touch tickled the nape of his neck. The breath brushing over it, and the sweet scent of her body, felt good too.

“Done.”

Anne pulled away and smiled, then finished by wiping it with her sleeve.

Gyeoul complained in a deliberately displeased tone.

“Isn’t that method of removing it a little too sensual? Our thirty minutes are already up.”

Thirty minutes was what they called it, but in reality it had been a little less. They had spent some time finding a place. Even so, thanks to Anne’s Insight in immediately pointing out this condo, they had kept the wasted time to a minimum.

Anne giggled softly.

“The longer and more bitter the patience, the sweeter the fruit. I’m looking forward to the Gyeoul I’ll meet next time.”

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“I think regretting it then won’t be too late. And maybe even that regret will be enjoyable for me.”

“...We’ll see about that.”

“Hehe. Yes, let’s see.”

Anne hugged Gyeoul as he leaned against the window frame and quietly closed her eyes. Her face, soaked in sunlight, still carried a weariness she had not managed to erase. She looked as if she wanted to fall asleep like this. She had said she had become involved in command around the time the protest turned violent, so like Gyeoul, she must have stayed up all night under tension and responsibility.

“Do you think people will come back to this condo because of today?”

When Gyeoul asked, Anne quietly shook her head with her eyes still closed.

“It’ll be hard while the anxiety remains...”

Then she let out a soft sigh.

“We somehow got through it this time, but all we did was put out the immediate fire. Anti-Chinese sentiment can burst open again with any new incident. These days, I even wonder if it might be better to enforce segregated internment instead. At least then, fewer people would die...”

After saying that much, Anne opened her eyes and looked up at Gyeoul.

“Isn’t that absurd? Someone who’s the FBI deputy director, thinking things like this.”

Gyeoul stroked her cheek and answered gently.

“Leaving right and wrong aside, I think it’s a thought someone in charge of operations could have. If the situation forces you to choose between the worst and the lesser evil, that is. What’s bad isn’t you, but the reality that forces that kind of choice, isn’t it?”

Reality, the world, and people.

“Wow.”

Anne buried her face in Gyeoul’s arms again.

“That’s really sweet comfort...”

Gyeoul patted Anne while looking over her shoulder at the bleak room.

This condo was a rare place that doubled as a hotel. Some rooms had residents, and some rooms had guests. Because of that, there was a front desk for guests in the lobby as well. The owners who had bought each unit must have operated it as a cooperative.

In the lobby they reached after passing through the smashed front door, Anne had easily picked out the key to this room. Among the many keys, it was for a high floor and showed no signs of use.

The furniture inside the room was covered in vinyl. The pale dust piled on top hinted that this room had been empty for at least a few weeks. On the vinyl covering the sofa, the marks left by Anne’s hands over the past thirty minutes were still clear.

The condo had probably been abandoned ever since Chinatown had become sharply more dangerous. Even the residents who had stayed because they had nowhere else to go must have seen the recent trend and fled somehow. Since it was on the edge of Chinatown, it was perfectly placed to be hit by stray bullets once an attack began.

In any case, anyone who had lived in a condo like this probably had enough money to evacuate right away. Considering its location close to downtown, the monthly rent and maintenance fees alone must have easily run two or three thousand dollars.

Bzz, bzz-

“Ugh, it’s been distracting me this whole time...”

Looking at the smartphone vibrating again and again on the table, Anne puffed out her cheeks in displeasure. The messages on the screen were far from urgent summons.

At the same time, it was true that they had gone past their time limit. This was the point where they had no choice but to go out. Anne pulled away from Gyeoul, regret plain on her face. After tying up her hair, she put on her holster, picked up her smartphone, and gestured outside with her chin.

“Let’s go. If we’re any later, we’ll hear about it.”

Anne led the way, and Gyeoul followed. Emergency lights were on in the quiet hallway. The two exchanged kisses while waiting for the elevator. The same happened inside the elevator. But when they stepped out into the first-floor lobby, Gyeoul had returned to being an Army Lieutenant Colonel, and Anne had returned to being the FBI deputy director.

“Stay strong. Be careful until the end.”

Her farewell.

“You too.”

Gyeoul waved to her.

As he rejoined the scene, Gyeoul thought about what he had to do before the order’s effect was suspended. His priorities took shape with surprising speed. It probably was not just his imagination that his head felt clearer than before he had spent time with Anne. More than regret, he had gained strength. Gyeoul hoped Anne had too.

Among the things he had to do was meet with people connected to the militia. After listening carefully to the radio exchange with Yura, who had seized command authority, he understood that what they wanted was the fact itself that they had been under Lieutenant Colonel Han Gyeoul’s command. Even if they did not put it into words, he could feel it beneath the surface.

Gyeoul intended to answer that wish actively.

‘As long as they take pride in today’s experience, they should also keep a relatively cool head about hatred toward Chinese people.’

Having fought against a riot alongside a war hero was a heroic tale they could tell in bars for years. Something like, “You know, that day, I was with Lieutenant Colonel Han Gyeoul...” In that heroic tale, the vigilante had to be on the side of justice. Before that, they may have had no particular thoughts, or may even have held a vague hostility toward Chinese people, but sometimes truth began from lies.

Many reporters would also be interested in them. The more interviews they gave, the more likely their testimony was to create a positive cycle in public opinion.

Gyeoul disliked treating people who liked him in such a calculating way. But reality was reality, so there was no helping it. Still, he was not deceiving them out of malice, and even if they learned what Gyeoul was thinking, he did not think they would criticize him.

Some of his priorities came looking for him on their own. In other words, people such as the mayor of Philadelphia, the police commissioner, the U.S. Marshal, and the governor of Pennsylvania visited the scene.

They were truly calculating people.

Still, Gyeoul welcomed them gladly.

At some point, Jeffrey’s lover, Sheriff Kathleen Hayland, had told him this.

“In any city, any slum, any high-crime district, if you want to secure public order, you first have to restore trust in public authority.”

Before that, she had mentioned police discrimination against Chinese people.

“There are probably personnel who deliberately discriminate against Chinese people. But even for me, when I patrol a Chinese enclave, my skin often prickles. From a police officer’s standpoint, the feeling of being threatened is real. To call it an illusion born from simple suspicion... the staring eyes are far too clear. Their whispers among themselves, whose meaning I can’t understand, put me on edge too.”

The vicious cycle she had described was now being reproduced all across the United States on a scale too large to describe.

Chinese communities, already strongly isolated and exclusionary, were all too likely in this situation to perceive public authority, and beyond that the entire country called America, as their enemy. That perception itself was the nourishment that would allow Yangism to bear fruit. The seeds of malice had already sprouted, but it was too early to give up and say it was too late.

So Gyeoul quietly, but generously, praised the high-ranking officials who were sensitive to public opinion.

“It is an honor to meet you. Thanks to the support from you, Mayor, and from the police department, we were able to calm the unrest quickly. You have my sincere thanks.”

“I am surprised that you came to visit the site while it is still dangerous, Governor. Would you like to meet the citizens who suffered damage? Ensign Li here will guide you.”

The first was what he said to the mayor, and the second was what he said to the governor. The part about visiting a site that was still dangerous would make good material later for emphasizing the governor’s boldness.

Sooner or later, the people who saw this scene would get the impression that agencies at every level had joined forces to deal with anti-Chinese sentiment.

He also shook hands with every militia member. Of course, Martineau captured the scene on camera.

By late afternoon, when Gyeoul was handing most of the work over to the public safety authorities, Martineau checked his phone and sneered.

“The bastards who said this unrest would drag on have changed their tune in an instant and are making a fuss. Their tone in reporting on the resistance of Chinese citizens has changed noticeably too. They may be holding back on mentioning it, but at least they aren’t distorting the facts. I’m impressed all over again by your influence, Lieutenant Colonel. Haha. The ugly behavior of competitors is always enjoyable to watch.”

Gyeoul laughed awkwardly.

“You have a bad personality.”

“Journalism is a job that makes it hard to have a good one.”

He answered with a sly, self-mocking joke. He was very different now from the impression he had given when they first met. This side of him was probably closer to his real personality.

“In the evening, I plan to focus on the damage suffered by Vietnamese, Thai, Korean, and Japanese businesses. This riot will also be criticized for losing sight of its target.”

As Martineau said, Chinatown did not only have Chinese businesses. Some businesses had been looted even worse precisely because they were not Chinese. The Chinese vigilantes had protected only Chinese businesses.

‘They said those people had always been annoying.’

Gyeoul recalled the vigilantes’ excuse.

Yes. It was an excuse. They had been afraid Gyeoul would be angry at them for ignoring Koreans.

At the same time, it was also true that other ethnic minorities from different cultures, including Koreans, had ignored Chinese people first. To them, that had probably been a means of self-defense and survival.

In the end, it was not a situation where anyone could easily declare who was bad.

That was usually how a muddy current of people formed.

Gyeoul set aside his thoughts and gave the reporter a small nod.

“Thank you for your help yesterday and today, Martineau.”

“Not at all. I’m the one who should be thanking you. I got a scoop thanks to you, Lieutenant Colonel. Please contact me without hesitation whenever you need me in the future. I’ll drop everything and come running.”

The reporter winked and left for his next story.

Gyeoul held one hopeful prediction inside.

‘Since things turned out like this, the announcement of the refugee leaders’ corruption might be delayed a little...’

If the exposure happened now, it would be hard for it to get enough attention. Compared to the refugee leaders’ embezzlement, the terrorist attack targeting Lieutenant Colonel Han Gyeoul was a far more powerful story. The comparison was almost meaningless. So it would be reasonable to delay the announcement until the background of the terrorist attack was revealed.

Depending on the direction of public opinion, there was also a chance the exposure itself would drift without any set date. If Gyeoul’s guess was right, the ones behind the terrorist attack would not be Yangists. If that fact was revealed, citizens would begin to be wary of anti-Chinese sentiment, or even hostile toward it.

It was only his own thought, but Gyeoul judged the possibility to be fairly high. As long as the investigative authorities did not invent a false culprit.

The next morning, however, the White House overturned Gyeoul’s prediction in a completely unexpected way.

Footnotes:

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