00013 - The Little Prince in the Ossuary
------------------------------------------------------------------------
# Leadership, Camp Roberts
At the conclusion of the journal accelerated by time manipulation, Gyeo-ul decided to find the people who would be waiting for him.
He had already demonstrated his ability and had stalled for enough time.
He hoped they were eager to see him—enough to make up for the penalties associated with being a minor.
The refugee area was eerily quiet at night. Many perfectly good tents lay empty, evidence that anxious people gathered in one place each night.
Someone approached from the opposite direction. It was an unfamiliar face.
The person glanced at the boy with slight apprehension, but such a level of wariness was typical in the refugee area.
Just as they attempted to pass by, 「Survival Sense」 triggered.
Thud.
They pretended an accidental bump but aimed a hidden knife stab. However, Gyeo-ul was prepared. As the metal glinted, he had already caught it and twisted the arm.
"Ack!"
With a short scream and a clatter, the knife dropped—a rusty, chipped, and dirty knife that was perfect for assassination. Even a light cut would lead to festering.
Currently, Gyeo-ul's combat abilities were strongly boosted by skill enhancements.
Despite accounting for the penalties, he was formidable, strong enough to overpower most adults with sheer strength alone.
That was precisely why the man's attempts to break free were in vain.
"Aagh! Aagh! Let me go!"
There was no reason to let him go. Holding his twisted arm like a tether, Gyeo-ul dragged him into the narrow darkness between the tents.
For the man being dragged, it felt like being swallowed by a black monster.
"Heek! Heeeek!"
The man spat and screamed, forgetting his predicament, calling for help desperately.
"Help me! A crazy kid is trying to kill me! Someone help me! Oh! Help! Help! Do your job, yankees! Damn it! Damn it!!!"
"Be quiet. Neither the police nor the military will enter the refugee area except at designated times and places."
It was the same reason patrols skipped late-night visits to places like Harlem.
As long as the main perimeter was well-guarded, the structure made it nearly impossible for anything significant to occur.
Watchtowers stood at every potential hotspot.
No one came to the man's aid.
Several tents lit up anew, but it was more a signal to say they were awake and ready for any intrusion, so don't try anything foolish.
Once Gyeo-ul threw him down with the same force he used to drag him, the man was too shocked to even make a sound.
He trembled, drooling and sniffling miserably. Gyeo-ul brushed back his hair and drew out a large knife. He approached.
The man, unable even to stand, scrambled pathetically backward until he ran out of space.
In desperation, he began to claw at the tent, trying to dig himself in.
The speed at which he scratched with bare hands was shocking, a desperation-induced boost perhaps.
Unfortunately, it wasn't useful—it couldn't be controlled.
The boy thrust the knife into the man's back. Gurgling, the sound of air escaping from a punctured lung.
Blood spewed forth, dark and sticky as the night.
The struggle didn't last long. Strength ebbed with the blood flow. The brief spasms of a life ending.
Reduced to faint trembling. There was no need to uncover his background. They must have passed orders through several intermediaries, anticipating failure.
It wasn't a rule to send one's own when part of a thieving gang. Those at the pyramid's base are always hungry.
A few ration tickets could easily lure them.
Still, killing had a warning effect. If perceived as weak, life would become troublesome.
This path minimized deaths; experience taught Gyeo-ul that much. Despite that, there was a strong sense of resistance, and disregarding it sent fiery heat coursing through his veins.
A pleasurable pain. As the heat flowed, the bitterness within his chest seemed to melt away, little by little.
It was a momentary illusion. When the heat subsided, his heart felt heavier. It wasn't guilt. It was more the stark realization of not needing guilt—an awareness that this wasn't reality.
Silently, Gyeo-ul peeked through the tent slit. Beyond the opening, men clutched make-shift weapons nervously, and women cowered behind them, watching him with stifled mouths.
Their gazes crossed paths. Gyeo-ul offered a slight bow.
"Sorry for disturbing your sleep. This person tried to kill me. I had no choice. I mean you no harm."
This was a rehearsed scene. He'd learned to project intimidation over countless iterations.
Killing calmly made one look like a monster. Fear sprouted from the incomprehensible.
While entering a frenzy had a similar effect, it made negotiation afterward too challenging.
These people, members of any organization, could be expected to talk. It served as advertising: That young boy is truly terrifying.
Sure enough, the people inside the tent nodded stiffly, some unable to do even that. With a short farewell wishing them sweet dreams, Gyeo-ul let the tent's covering fall.
Sifting through the corpse yielded a mere three ration tickets. As expected, there was no clue about who was behind it. If there had been, he'd have suspected something was amiss.
Leaving the corpse behind, he moved toward his destination, guarded by a sentry.
In truth, any resting place for people with influence would have guards.
Internal night watches were insufficient against arson. Upon seeing the boy, the sentry hurried inside.
The sounds of people stirring abruptly. Not giving them time to prepare, Gyeo-ul smoothly entered.
"Student, what brings you at such a late hour?"
The familiar face of the elder who had once lamented his miserable state greeted him. The speckled age spots on his face seemed to have increased over the past few days.
His expression was one of mild dismay. Not just him—others shared similar looks. That was intentional.
Allowing one's opponent time to gather themselves was detrimental to maintaining an advantage.
There was a reason for late-night meetings. Allies, precisely because they were allies, should never be allowed the upper hand.
"I have decided to accept the offer."
"Oh!"
Yun-cheol exclaimed, his sudden delight overtaking whatever fatigue the abrupt morning had caused.
Despite being notoriously bad at waking up, whether due to nutritional deficiencies or a natural weakness for sleep, those who weren't fully awake were sharing joyful expressions.
Only one middle-aged woman seemed concerned, gazing at the boy's wet hand.
"Are you hurt?"
"It's not my blood."
Fear blossomed. But this much was just right. Or rather, it was an act. He mixed in a small lie.
"They tried to kill me. Upon investigation, it seems they were part of the 「Damul Development Society」. Apparently, they didn't like me coming here."
"To think such filthy punks exist!"
"How can anyone attempt to kill a child, no matter the circumstances?"
"Those bastards who always took away our share! They must already be pulling stunts because it's getting harder to snatch ours easily! Stamping out the sprout before it takes root!"
Outrage erupted immediately. The anger of the crowd was easy to incite.
Particularly the woman said to have been abandoned by her fickle husband trembled with anger.
Trying to soothe her crying child proved a futile effort; she needed to calm herself first.
With the crowd in an emotional state, Gyeo-ul chose that moment to assert his position.
"There's something I need to clarify. As you can see, I'm young. I don't like being underestimated. So, I want us to agree on something beforehand. At the very least, when we're together or discussing official matters, treat me with respect. Outside of that, you can speak casually or even condescendingly if you wish."
"Of course, that's only right! That's exactly what we wanted, isn't it? Everyone agrees, right?"
The man who first invited Gyeo-ul, Yun-cheol, took the lead in guiding public opinion. Gyeo-ul narrowed his eyes, focusing on Yun-cheol's behavior.
Though, for now, they were a small group within the giant Camp Roberts, planning for when they'd become an independent community gave him a hint of what role Yun-cheol might play.
Listening to the rising agreement, Gyeo-ul raised his hand in a gesture indicating enough, instantly quieting them down.
Attention was riveted on him. Reflecting on the tension he'd felt the first time he experienced a similar situation, he recalled being incredibly nervous.
Even though he knew intellectually that everyone around him were artificial intelligences, the tangible lack of difference from people was daunting.
A realization that belonged to the past now.
"Good. Let's make a promise to each other. I'll do my best for you, and you do your best for me. I look forward to working with you."
Applause erupted. All the faces looked tired, yet small glimmers of expectation, joy, and hope peeked through.
It was a positive response.
Still, some calculating gazes persisted. Those were elements of instability to keep in mind. Raising his hand to quiet them once more, Gyeo-ul spoke.
"This might be sudden, but as my first decision as a leader, I'll need volunteers for tomorrow's training under Lieutenant Robert Capston's company. Don't take it lightly—eventually, you'll be handling missions in this same team setup."
"How many do we need?"
It was Yun-cheol, transitioning from an interim representative to a potential prominent figure who asked. Gyeo-ul directed his response to him.
"We'll need at least ten people. That way, we can fill one truck entirely with our own. It'll reduce the instances where we have to compete for credit with people from other groups."
Silence fell abruptly.
Ten was an enormous number. That seemed to be their thoughts.
Though them saying they could muster a fighting force of seventeen was something Gyeo-ul took skeptically from the start—did they honestly speak the truth inviting him?
Suppose a battle broke out while all fighters were on a mission. The remaining people would be literal dead men.
Yet, directly confessing they could not give ten was challenging.
Before they could express the difficulty, Gyeo-ul pointed out that fact himself.
"Rest assured. You mentioned having seventeen capable fighters, but I took that with some skepticism. It's understandable to worry about those who'll stay behind. So, Mr. Yun-cheol, there's no need to look like that. I understand."
"Sorry about that, and thank you for understanding."
"It's embarrassing."
"And risky to confess in desperation, isn't it."
While most reactions were along those lines, there was a more extreme response.
"Isn't that a risk we have to take? You're too cowardly! How can you expect to lean on him so one-sidedly! Did we bring him on board to treat him like a servant? I'll volunteer instead!"
The agitated voice belonged to the same woman holding a baby.
Perhaps feeling abandoned by her husband, she had been tense since the 「Damul Development Society」 was mentioned.
She seemed to be on edge indeed. The AI offered real-time augmented reality to propose suitable keywords for the situation. One-time tips, vanishing if missed.
Though not necessarily followed verbatim, they provided inspiration.
The woman's posture grew defensive at Gyeo-ul's approach. Her agitation subsided, replaced by tension.
Indeed, even with bloodstained hands, he was still a stranger. However, his approach bore no malice.
Kneeling by her side to meet her eye level, his voice was gentle.
"While I appreciate bravery, you should consider the child. Surely, you don't despise your own child for the father's faults?"
"N-no, that's not the case! Truly!"
"That's a relief."
Gyeo-ul gently touched the baby's hair with his clean hand. The baby indeed didn't seem neglected despite everything.
While the mother was gaunt and dirty, the baby appeared much cleaner. Its cheeks were pleasantly chubby, its skin fair and smooth.
Taking a glance at the baby's milky-white forehead, Gyeo-ul turned once more to the mother, with kindly words.
"What a cute baby. Seems like a boy, what's his name?"
"Park Jung-han. For now."
"For now?"
"It's a name given by my ex-husband. I'm considering giving him a new name soon."
"I see. And what should I call you?"
"Song Ye-kyung... that's my name."
"I'll remember it."
Then, Gyeo-ul rose and surveyed the room.
"Let's take this opportunity for everyone to introduce themselves."
Once the names were exchanged, Gyeo-ul returned to the main topic.
"As I was saying earlier, I'm not looking for ten healthy men exclusively. The safety of those staying behind is essential too. Here's what I propose. We need ten people, but half of them don't have to be proficient in combat at all. Just fill the numbers, however you can."
"Wouldn't that put the ones leaving at risk?"
Song Ye-kyung's question held an obvious concern. This time, there was no need to hold back his smile. Maintaining it steadily was meant to reassure them.
"I can make up for what's lacking. I did promise I'd help, didn't I."
"But still..."
"Please trust me. I'll make sure everyone comes back safely."
Just as he spoke, the AI sounded a warning.
「As a community leader, your public promises are deemed proposals and community missions. Success earns you leadership experience; the community's power balance tips in your favor, with increased belonging and loyalty adjusted upwards. Failure incurs leadership penalties, reduced stability, and power balance shifts, with diminished belonging and loyalty adjusted downwards. You risk losing your leadership position or being expelled. When promising as a leader, it's crucial to carefully consider success probability. The skills 「Instigation」 and 「Deception」 from the leadership skill set can ease such drawbacks.」
Certainly, at times when skills and ability levels had been lower, making such a promise would have been too much of a gamble. But not now.
「After the Apocalypse」 was designed as, 'Starting as someone struggling alone, eventually becoming the hero capable of saving others in tragedy.' Accumulating 「Talent Advantage」 meant becoming superhuman.
"I'm sorry, but...can we really trust you on this...?"
Naturally, some mistrust and doubt surfaced. Many empathized with the unease.
What they knew of the boy was limited to a single external mission and one instance of intimidation. Not denying this was key.
Speaking with an airy tone, Gyeo-ul replied.
"Only those who can trust me should step forward. I'm not forcing anyone. If it doesn't work out, we don't need to meet the quota. We'll just partner with other groups, but I'm confident we'll return safely. We'll only have to split the spoils more."
A rhetoric appearing to relieve pressure skilfully applied pressure instead.
Though he claimed not to force them, simultaneously, he invited those who trusted. How could they know they trusted or not after meeting him only recently?
It meant that shouldering the risk was an opportunity to earn points with their young leader.
No matter how benevolent a group, nobody is devoid of the desire for personal gain. It's a fundamental human urge.
He knew this even before his experiences at 「After the Apocalypse」.
As for those not swayed, they were given a sense of moral obligation.
"We won't decide everything now. I'll return after breakfast, so please make up your minds by then. And if, by any chance, many volunteer... I'll choose at my discretion."
With that, he left, receiving several send-offs. Rejecting an offer to stay, Gyeo-ul had calculated that granting every wish wasn't always welcome.
Gratitude doesn't follow gift-wrap.
Indeed. His parents never understood the essence of true gratitude.
Clacky's Corner:
The story gives a sense of hope in dark times. The previous chapters painted the story to be bleak and hopeless, but this chapter gives hope for the future.
Of course, I won't get my hopes up too much, there's still possibity of betrayal.