WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Little Prince in the Ossuary

Chapter 57

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#Trap (2), Camp Roberts

The atmosphere inside was electric. Yeon-cheol had the room going, squeezing everything he could out of what little they had until the party felt genuinely alive.

Eight tents had been knocked together to open up the space.

At the center, Song Ye-kyung was singing. The woman whose husband had started a new life inside the Damul Promotion Association. She was, as Gyeoul had always suspected, genuinely gifted. Beautiful tone, clean technique, a voice that filled the room without strain. Singing while holding her baby, there was something unmistakably maternal in the image. Thinking back on the bitter, wound-up woman she had been, the change was striking.

'This is a bit awkward, though.'

For handling the stateless refugees, Yeon-cheol was exactly the right person. But if he stepped away, the mood would deflate fast.

Gyeoul himself was part of the problem. Yeon-cheol, who had asked him to stay close, kept glancing at the empty spot his absence had left. Many others had done the same. When their Little Captain walked back in, their faces lit up visibly, only to shift into mild confusion at the sight of the five strangers at his side.

People were circulating to keep things running. Some faces Gyeoul didn't recognize, likely the ones his two vice-captains managed at the level below them. Partly true, what he had said about knowing less about the alliance than they did.

No reason to let it be a problem, though. He waved one of the workers over. An unfamiliar face, but the response was immediate: warmth, deference, and a thread of caution underneath both.

"Can you find seats for these people? Close to mine."

"Oh, yes!"

While the seat was being arranged, Gyeoul turned to the five and gave them a calm smile.

"For now, just enjoy yourselves. The details, lodging and everything else, will need to wait until after the party."

"Of course. Thank you for the consideration."

Benjamin Meyer answered. His easy manner had put him naturally in the role of spokesperson. The other four looked slightly unsettled, though it was the kind of tension anyone might show in a strange place for the first time.

The moment Gyeoul took his seat, the noise rose sharply. Hard to tell where sincerity ended and ceremony began.

The singing competition continued. Young and old threw themselves into it. The surprise of the evening was a grandmother belting out a trot number, her voice so winding and heartfelt that the whole room joined in on the refrain.

Ye-kyung took the win anyway.

'Having someone who can sing is good. Someone who plays an instrument would be even better.'

Gyeoul's thinking was functional. Survival meant protecting life. And life needed pleasure in it.

Music was the language of the heart, a lubricant that seeped into the spirit. It slowed the fracturing of a community from the inside, invisible and unsung. Communities that ignored that invisible resilience rarely held together for long. Because there was no human life in such places.

Could cultural needs be met. Could the mind find comfort.

'And can happiness be found.'

He turned over what he'd read. In environments of extreme stress, even animals resorted to self-gratification. It happened in the wild too, but in confined spaces, in laboratory cages or zoos where everything was suppressed, the frequency became abnormal.

To Gyeoul, it looked like an instinctive reaching toward pleasure. Nothing else left to relieve the pressure. And a life without pleasure was no life at all.

Watching virtual personalities inhabit the simulated world, imitating human beings, he had come to believe people weren't so different.

That was probably why those who built human zoos from their elevated vantage points tended to allow deliberate indulgences: film, sport, sex.

It was also why Gyeoul, though troubled by the audience from another world watching over him, did not hate them.

He understood them.

The boy understood them.

"Alright, let's start the vote!"

Yeon-cheol's voice, bright and carrying, pulled him back. The borrowed microphone was earning its keep. Without it, Yeon-cheol's face would have been twice as red.

Ye-kyung won. Through every round, she had chosen cheerful songs, every single time. To Gyeoul's eye, that was a kind of resolve.

She powered through three encore requests, then bowed to the crowd with a flushed face and a wide smile, the baby still in her arms. The child reached toward her, grinning.

Holding the baby while singing must have been harder than the singing itself. She could have handed him off for a bit.

Yeon-cheol presented her with the winner's prize and asked for a few words. Near the end of her brief remarks, Ye-kyung turned her gaze toward Gyeoul.

"I'd like to use this moment to offer our Little Captain my deepest thanks. Without the Captain, none of us would be here today. Isn't that right, everyone?"

She transferred her own applause directly to him. Gyeoul put on a vaguely awkward expression and answered the cheers with a few quiet bows.

"There's actually something I'd like to ask the Captain."

Gyeoul tilted his head. Ye-kyung lifted her baby slightly higher.

"Do you remember? I told you I was going to change my child's name."

Yeon-cheol hurried over and held the microphone out to Gyeoul.

"I remember. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm hoping to do it right now."

"Oh, dear."

Gyeoul made an uncomfortable face.

The people who had joined more recently had no context for this. They outnumbered the originals by a wide margin. For their sake, Ye-kyung laid out the story, then declared she would give her son her own surname.

The crowd erupted. All cheers for her, all curses for the husband. The charged emotion found a new target and latched on.

'Was this planned from the start?'

Her venom hadn't gone anywhere. It had just been tucked away under composure. Today might be the day she had been quietly building toward.

Gyeoul waited for the noise to settle, then quietly shook his head.

"I can't decide something like this on the spot."

A smooth deflection.

"It's a name this child will carry for his whole life. I won't choose carelessly. Vice-Captain Jang, please gather suggestions from as many people as possible. Once we have a good pool, I'll make the final call. That works for you, Song Ye-kyung-ssi?"

Something had come up, and he might as well make it count for the community. Ye-kyung smiled gracefully and bowed low.

"Yes! Thank you, Captain."

Yeon-cheol whipped the crowd back into a cheer.

Gyeoul turned his attention to the stateless refugees.

"Frustrating, not being able to follow what's being said?"

"...A little, yes."

Benjamin again. The other four just looked around. Gyeoul dropped into a seat beside them and called Yeon-cheol over. There was a lull between segments, and he had a moment to spare.

"What's going on? And who are these people?"

He had been curious since the beginning, clearly. The question came fast the moment he arrived. Gyeoul explained.

"They have no nationality."

"No nationality?"

"Let me start with names. The one in the middle is Benjamin Meyer. To the left, August Coma. Then Clara Carter, Casey Blackwell, and Victor Cook. All five were adopted to the United States as children."

The conversation was in Korean, but the five picked up on being introduced from the way the names came out in sequence. They greeted Yeon-cheol with small, uncertain gestures.

Yeon-cheol, caught off-guard, asked again.

"So they were adopted... but why are they here?"

"They drew bad adoptive parents. Families who brought children over to collect support payments and never filed for citizenship. They'd spent their whole lives believing they were American citizens. It wasn't true. They only found that out yesterday."

"My god..."

The detail was deliberate. Yeon-cheol needed something to work with, and a kind-hearted person like him would run further on a full picture. His eyes were already going red at the edges.

"They have nowhere to go, so I said we'd take them in. I'm sorry for not consulting you first, Vice-Captain."

The apology was a calculated nudge.

"No! Not at all! This is exactly what anyone should do!"

As expected, Yeon-cheol waved both hands emphatically.

"Welcome! The Gyeoul Alliance is glad to have you!"

Awkward but earnest English from Yeon-cheol. The role had shaped the man. He was committed to improving himself, and language was part of that effort.

'Getting a push from Vice-Captain Min probably helped too.'

That was what made competition useful.

Gyeoul introduced Yeon-cheol to the new arrivals.

"This is Jang Yeon-cheol. In Korean names, the surname comes first, so the family name is Jang and the given name is Yeon-cheol. He's one of the two most important people who help me run things here. When I'm away, he's the one actually managing the organization. You'll be relying on him a great deal going forward."

The five looked at Yeon-cheol with new attention. He grew a little flustered. Gyeoul added a request.

"Once the event wraps up, please make sure they have everything they need."

"Don't worry about a thing. We don't even have to wait."

He called people over immediately. Watching the practiced ease with which they came, Gyeoul felt firsthand how systematized the organization had become. Something to bring up with both vice-captains later, formally recognizing certain positions. Character would need to be assessed first, of course. He thought again that taking in the disabled community had been the right call.

As the five were led away by the aide, Gyeoul said after them:

"Let's make this work. It'll be rough for a while, but I'll help however I can."

They were exhausted, however much they tried not to show it. Rest came before a party. How many of them would make it through the night without tears.

Gyeoul couldn't see the party through to the end either. A loudspeaker outside crackled to life. Three short buzzer bursts, and the room fell silent at once.

Thankfully, not an emergency.

「Ensign Han Gyeoul, currently within the camp. Ensign Han Gyeoul is requested to equip personal combat gear immediately and report to the central parade ground.」

A summons. At this hour. He checked his watch. The sun had gone down some time ago.

"It's nothing serious. I'll be back soon, everyone just keep enjoying yourselves."

He settled the room with a word, walked out at an easy pace, and then picked up his speed.

The parade ground, once he had geared up and arrived, held several Humvees and a platoon of soldiers waiting.

"You again. Doesn't it get old for you?"

The joke came from 1st Platoon Leader of Charlie Company, Ensign Jeffrey Brown. Other familiar faces too. Sergeant Marvin "Bore" Liberman, Corporal Darren Elliot, Private Antonio Guilherme. All of them looked worn-out or put-upon, though they brightened when they saw Gyeoul.

He had a sense of why Jeffrey was opening with jokes despite dragging everyone out in the middle of the night. Commanding officer thing. Gyeoul played along.

"Getting old, yeah. The face I'm seeing after leaving a party is yours."

"That was a joke, right? Mine was definitely a joke."

"Sorry. Mine wasn't."

"Hey!"

The soldiers stifled their laughter. Jeffrey jerked his head toward the vehicles.

"Get in. I'll brief you on the way."

The driver hit the gas the second Gyeoul climbed in. Jeffrey's voice came through the radio.

「Ahem. Gentlemen. Commencing the briefing now.」

The soldiers in the vehicle listened up. Jeffrey had apparently been the only one briefed before departure.

「So for a while now. 'A while' meaning, well, the exact time doesn't matter, does it. Nothing critical, let's keep it loose.」

"......"

「Anyway. For a while now, irregular signals have been detected in the vicinity of San Miguel. Moving positions, intermittent. We can't call in air support without precise coordinates. Signal-tracking missiles are useless unless the transmission is sustained. Best guess is Tricksters, though how many we're dealing with is unclear. By now I think you all know why we got the call.」

That much was obvious. The only forces at Camp Roberts with direct combat experience against the Tricksters were Gyeoul and Charlie Company's 1st Platoon. And compared to every other known engagement on record, theirs was the best result by a wide margin. Without Gyeoul, it wouldn't have been possible.

The convoy halted at the entry checkpoint. Plenty of obstacles still to clear.

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