WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Little Prince in the Ossuary

Chapter 81

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Hardening Ground (3)

Thunder rumbled.

Under a darkening sky, the wind grew harsher by the minute. The raindrops felt like shattered ice. The rain was so fierce that rain gear could not keep all of it out. Water seeped through sleeves and down the back of the neck, soaking even his underwear. Water pooled inside his combat boots too. Gyeoul felt his body growing sluggish. His hands and feet were going numb. He was still fine for now, but a few more hours in this cold would be dangerous. Hypothermia and mild frostbite were real risks.

The road to 74th Street was a scene of excessive force. Thinned blood was splattered everywhere.

A mounted officer charged a gang member who was resisting with a club. Faced with that speed and pressure, the man froze and was struck by the horse, tumbling across the ground. His elbow bent backward. He screamed with spit running from his mouth, and expandable baton blows rained down on him. Whack, crack! The sound of people being beaten in the rain was savage.

Officers who looked well practiced in riot control formed a shield wall. They slammed their shields against the ground and drove a cluster of gang members back. In lighting too dim to call bright, their long black shadows made them look intimidating even to Gyeoul. They did not even call on the cornered gang to surrender. They just fired shotguns loaded with rubber buckshot in indiscriminate bursts.

An officer holding a six-shot grenade launcher pulled the trigger repeatedly at a gang member running toward the boy officer. Thoom, clack, thoom, clack, thoom! One less-lethal sponge round hit the back of the man’s head and dropped him face-first. Another bounced into the air with a dull thud. Gyeoul snatched it out of the air as it fell.

Even that could kill at close range.

The boy pressed the fallen gang member’s neck and checked his pulse. He was not dead. Still, with a blow to the head, skull fracture, cervical fracture, or brain hemorrhage were all possible. The officer with the launcher stood there hesitating with handcuffs in hand. Gyeoul stepped back and gave him space.

Maybe he should be thankful they were not trying to kill on purpose. For someone who had resisted U.S. police with lethal weapons, this was still on the lighter end.

Should he ask them to rein in the excessive force?

Even officers with their blood up would probably listen to a boy who had become a hero.

Gyeoul fingered his radio, then let it go without saying a word. There were layers to consider. The first thing that came to mind was the man with the rusty knife. Back when he had only been a volunteer, he had run into a starving assassin at night. He had killed him without hesitation so no one would look down on him. He had done it to prevent more killings.

This was the same. A brutal crackdown would send a clear warning to criminals in other zones. In the end, casualties would likely be lower.

Of course, making an example out of people was not always right. It violated fairness.

Part of him still accepted excessive force, as long as they did not die. Criminals who sold drugs, sold people, and sold off their own lives were not going to wake up from anything mild. Were these not the same types who got tattoos to commemorate prison time?

Changing people was never easy.

Two people he had never been able to change came to mind.

‘Father, and Mother.’

Gyeoul stopped for a moment. He had realized he was angry, then startled himself again by instinctively trying to suppress it.

Was this not the world he had liked because he did not need to suppress anger here?

A writhing contradiction stirred inside him. It was hard to tell what he truly wanted.

He did not pause long. Viewers from the other world were finding this strange. Usually, Gyeoul’s thoughts were delivered to them as 「Teletype」 strings. Not now. Reminding himself this place was not his world alone, the boy quickened his pace.

Splashing forward, he reloaded the shotgun’s tube magazine with exactly what he had spent.

A group of officers had gathered in front of the first tent on 74th Street. The riot commander saw Gyeoul and snapped to attention.

“You’re here. We were waiting.”

“What happened?”

“It’s a hostage situation for now... and the hostage taker is asking for you, Lieutenant-nim.”

“For me?”

Gyeoul tilted his head. Listening closely, it was true. Through wind howling like a wolf, he could faintly hear someone shouting in clumsy English. A desperate cry demanding Lieutenant Han Gyeoul be brought in. Even from the voice alone, the man sounded frantic and enraged. Gyeoul asked the police supervisor.

“Did you try talking to him?”

“We tried several times, but failed. His English is terrible... it looked like the only thing he could say was to bring Lieutenant Han Gyeoul. Even that had such bad pronunciation we barely understood. And none of us speaks Chinese. We have a few negotiation specialists, but they’re useless here.”

The riot commander added a quick summary.

“The hostage taker is a Chinese male, estimated thirties to forties, armed with a cheap handgun with no safety. The hostage is a Chinese woman in her twenties... his only demands are that no one come inside, and that we bring you, Lieutenant-nim. Nothing else. A sniper shot is difficult with him inside a tent, and tear gas could put the hostage’s life at risk, so we decided to bring you first.”

“I understand the situation. I’ll go in.”

He said it so lightly that the riot commander reacted a beat late, then tried to stop the boy officer.

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“I’m just doing what needs to be done. Same as always. I can worry about danger after.”

“Hmm... I’ve heard many rumors about you, but you’re exactly as described. It’s a little unsettling.”

Gyeoul smiled with his eyes, then suddenly yanked him by the collar.

Bang! A wooden plank came flying at full wind speed past where the commander had been standing, hit the ground, and spun away. The nearby officers jumped and scattered. The commander belatedly realized what had almost happened to him and gave an awkward smile.

“Thank you, Lieutenant-nim.”

“No problem. Anyway, I’m going in.”

“This may be pointless to say, but please be careful. You’re not someone who should get hurt in a place like this. If you keep his attention, we’ll keep looking for another way.”

A tent could be lifted from any side. If the suspect was carefully watching every direction, it would not matter, but if they could lure him into dropping his guard, there was a small chance.

‘In that case, he would almost certainly be shot dead.’

The standard response to hostage takers was lethal force.

After giving the police supervisor one more smile with his eyes, Gyeoul entered the large tent. As expected of a Chinese organization’s territory, red-toned decorations stood out. From memory, this was one of Zhili Hall’s bases. It had cooperative ties with the An Liang Chamber of Commerce and Industry. In front of the Chinese man who started shouting for Han Gyeoul the moment he saw him, Gyeoul took off his gas mask.

“I came, just like you asked. I’m Han Gyeoul. Why did you want to see me?”

The Chinese man fell quiet. His face looked unexpectedly gentle. His eyes drooped downward, and smile lines sat at the corners of his mouth, traces of smiles he must have worn often.

A kind-looking face could also be a villain’s asset. It made deception easier.

The man studied Gyeoul. Gyeoul studied him back. He held a very simple pistol. Minimal features, but that made it more reliable.

It smelled like piss. The hostage woman seemed to have wet herself in terror. Not surprising, with a pistol that had no safety pressed to her temple. If she stayed calm in that situation, that would have been stranger. Her lips were blue, her face pale, her pupils shaking nonstop. Everything about her stripped away her natural beauty. Between her uncommon looks and revealing clothes, it was easy to guess what kind of suffering she had endured at the hands of gangsters.

When their eyes met, the woman moved her lips.

“Please... save me. I, I... I want to live... please help...”

She cried out. The hostage taker had struck her with the pistol grip.

The gunman, sweat beading on his forehead, gave Gyeoul a warm smile.

“I know you, but you do not know me. A first meeting, Lieutenant. I am Xiong Xigui of Zhili Hall. I serve as Hall Master.”

A Tong was an organic mutual-aid group among Chinese immigrants in the U.S. The An Liang Chamber also usually called itself An Liang Tong. The original purpose had been Chinese migrants helping each other in a foreign land, but many were effectively criminal groups. They tended to prioritize Chinese interests over U.S. law. That came from an exclusive ethnic mindset.

People who committed crimes as if it were obvious, without even thinking they were wrong.

Gyeoul could not feel good about them. As he had told Makriji of the Damul Promotion Association before, nationalism without cosmopolitanism as its premise was a devil’s faith.

“Let’s skip the pointless waste of time. What do you want from me?”

“Heh, you are impatient. We are both heads of organizations, are we not? Let us speak with a little more dignity.”

“With dignity?”

Gyeoul deliberately put contempt on his face. At the same time, he glanced once at the woman. The meaning was obvious, and the pleasant-faced gang boss sighed.

“Our strengths are fixed as they are, so I hope you will understand this much. Call it leniency toward the weak.”

...

This was going to be a pathetic waste of time. Gyeoul dragged over a nearby chair and sat across from the hostage taker. He set his loaded shotgun across his knees and looked at him at a slight angle.

How should he provoke him just enough? He thought, decided, and acted.

“I don’t know how long I can stay patient. Use your time well, gangster ahjussi.”

“...Very different from what I heard.”

That cold, quiet line came out while he toyed with the shotgun. Xiong Xigui’s face stiffened slightly. Gyeoul wanted him to think he was the kind of person who could end talks at any moment and accept the hostage’s sacrifice. Xigui nodded.

“True, when you lead many people, one face is not enough. You need many faces to respond to each situation, no? A good person cannot become rich, and a rich person cannot remain good.”

Gyeoul listened in silence. Faced with that silence, the gangster’s speech became a little faster, subtle enough to miss without close attention. Even so, his eyes kept scanning all around without rest, far from careless.

“Sir. First, make the police withdraw.”

“You think that’s possible?”

“Then at least, you can send back the person you brought.”

After hearing that, Gyeoul asked calmly.

“Why me?”

“Who does not know you’ve been moving with police these days?”

“Just because of that?”

“Whether you are behind this or not does not matter. Who in this fortress can ignore you? You are the only one who can settle this cleanly.”

“Shouldn’t Captain Markert be your first option?”

“Hah. How could you compare that scum to someone like you? He is just one petty underling now. We never had anything to trust from him from the start. He did not keep loyalty to one side and gain profit. He threatened to help the other side unless we paid him.”

It was probably exaggerated in part, but Gyeoul felt he could guess Captain Markert’s behavior. He rested his chin on his hand and asked again.

“Fine. Let’s say I clear out the police. Then what?”

“Then it is our turn to pay. Abandon the dying Triad. Among your Korean people, there is a saying: sell your wife and buy a good friend. Zhili Hall is with An Liang Tong. You can gain more from us than from that old Triad monster.”

“That’s not concrete enough.”

“How about this, then?”

Xiong Xigui grinned and groped the hostage woman’s chest, like he was showing off merchandise. Gyeoul slowly raised his gun. Thinking he had seen an opening, the gang boss hurriedly shifted posture and used the hostage as a shield. But Gyeoul was aiming at the hostage too.

He raised and aligned the gun slowly because he was afraid Xigui might think he was the target and panic-pull the trigger.

Gyeoul said to the hostage.

“I’m sorry.”

“...What?”

Boom! The shot hit the woman’s left clavicle. She passed out before she could even scream. Her body went limp. Xigui went blank. He clearly had never imagined Gyeoul would really shoot the hostage.

Before he could react, before he could realize the shotgun was loaded with less-lethal rounds, Gyeoul fired again. Clack, boom! Xigui’s face shattered.

“Aaaaargh!”

He spat broken teeth while blood-tears streamed from a ruptured eyeball. Gyeoul stood and hurled the chair. Whack! Splintered fragments flew everywhere. Xigui finally dropped his pistol. Gyeoul kicked it away.

Hearing the gunshots, the police tactical unit rushed in. They took in the situation at a glance and called for the waiting medical team. The medics had already been standing right outside the tent in case things went bad. Yet they checked the boy officer first, before either the gang boss or the hostage.

“We heard you went in alone and were worried. We’re glad you’re safe.”

“What are you doing right now? Check the injured first.”

“Ah, yes! Sorry!”

Sorry to whom, exactly... Gyeoul watched the treatment until the very end.

============================ Author’s Afterword ============================

1. Joara gave me a Mr. Pizza gift coupon because the series passed 70 episodes.

But it was a regular size.

Come on, pizza should obviously be large, right?

The author was deeply saddened.

2.

Q. ZERO4: @ Thanks to your work, author-nim, I can forget the heat for a little while. May Azathoth’s blessing be with you...

A. Thank you. May the Force be with you, ZERO4-nim...

Q. Klinen: @ You guessed it right away, as expected from an author full of childlike innocence. Things are quiet because of the Olympics, but this place is also full of childlike innocence. The alleys are packed with friends armed with childlike innocence and faith, haha.

A. Be careful. I heard that neighborhood circulates defective childlike innocence.

Q. YureongSwagyul: @ The zombies are getting smarter. Could this spread into a full war between humans and zombies? Though the U.S. will probably massacre them before it gets that far.

A. I already think it is a war. Of course they will keep getting stronger too.

Q. Ca-mo: @ If Camp Roberts, where Gyeoul is, is a residential district for Asian refugees, do other refugee camps house Europeans and other races? U.S. prisons are famous for being strict, so I’m curious what happened to prisoners in the Ossuary world. (For some reason I think prisoners might survive like in The Walking Dead...) Do you watch The Walking Dead, author-nim??

A. First, yes. Refugee residential districts for other nationalities exist as separate bases. Second, the guys who were locked in prison were transferred to specific bases. Third, I watched The Walking Dead up to Season 5. It was fun.

Q. MasterKalsolum: @ Tunguska hu Akbar.

A. A whisper? Whisper whisper!

Q. CryForYou: If you open a Donation Account, please be ready to write more than one chapter a day... where are you even using all those hands lol

A. The author has no arms and only ten legs. So I write with feet, not hands.

It is not that I am not using those many legs. Every time I type, they all fight over which leg gets to press the keys, so writing gets even slower. The names of my legs from left to right are Gimpo Bridge, Haengju Bridge, Banghwa Bridge, Gayang Bridge, Seongsan Bridge, Yanghwa Bridge, Seogang Bridge, Mapo Bridge, Wonhyo Bridge, and Unitology Bridge. Whenever I try to hit one key, they all rush in at once, and it gives me a headache.

Q. CheongRyuryeon: @ Thank you for another great chapter today. In this hot summer, I want to gift you piping hot samgyetang, author-nim. OwO

A. You are truly a reader overflowing with childlike innocence. The author is very happy.

Q. Rankes: @ Author-nim, do you like fried dumplings and Welch’s grape flavor?

A. I like fried dumplings, but not Welch’s.

Q. Nareuoeuheu: @ What kind of work can really fill someone up with childlike innocence?

A. The Return of the Match Girl.

Q. ChickenIsHalfHalfTruth: @ If Chinese gangs had that level of lethal weapons and hurt police, wouldn’t Chinese people face disadvantages? Or what punishment would those gangs get? It’s well known the U.S. cares a lot about police officers, and there are already injuries T_TTTT

A. As you saw, the answer is excessive force.

Q. qoewh: @ Opening a Donation Account is to replenish your childlike innocence even a little, author-nim. If you push harder and it dries up more, you will leave for Amcheonhyang. Please open a Donation Account and accept our offerings. Besides you, who is friendly to humans, you also have your manga artist friend, right? Please accept the sacrifice offerings, share with your friends, and recover your childlike innocence.

A. The offering I like is actually human sacrifice... no, no, it is not.

I will think slowly about the Donation Account. :)

Q. Oshin4: @ A Donation Account is our offering as believers serving you, God-author-nim. Being able to read such fun childlike-innocence novels is thanks to you, so I think we should repay you.

A. Thank you so much for thinking that way. Praise makes the Great Old Ones dance.

My childlike innocence recharges little by little just from reading comments. Support offerings are not essential.

Please keep reading and enjoying it. That is the best thing.

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