00018 - The Little Prince in the Ossuary
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# High Risk High Return, Paso Robles (5)
The number of people was small relative to the size of the gymnasium. There were about twenty students and, including the adults, a total of thirty-four individuals.
Among them, three were armed. Two of them had shotguns, and one had a handgun. They peeked their faces and muzzles over the barricade.
They seemed pleased to see Gyeo-ul but confused upon noticing his companions. The difference in attire was the cause.
Tsk. The door locked behind them. Gyeo-ul had removed his gas mask but kept a hold on his handgun just in case.
Regardless, a plump Caucasian woman grabbed him in a hug. She was the one who had opened the door for them.
"Thank you so much for coming. Everyone was losing hope and getting exhausted."
"You're welcome. Your name is...?"
"I'm Amalia Flemmens. You can call me Amalia. I'm the student affairs liaison at Daniel Lewis Public School."
By 'student affairs', she meant the Foster Youth Program, which dealt with student protection and management — focusing on orphans, adoptees, homeless students, and students experiencing household discord.
"I'm Han Gyeo-ul. That's a bit tricky to pronounce, so you can call me Han."
Gyeo-ul spoke gently and calmly pushed her away.
Among those watching, there were armed men. One of them asked skeptically.
"Is this everyone you've got?"
"For now, yes. Until we can deploy additional forces from Camp Roberts tomorrow."
Whoa! Cheers erupted. However, the questioner still seemed unconvinced.
"How can we trust a kid's word? You've got unit patches but no rank insignia, and the people with you don't look like they're U. S. military."
"To be honest, we're refugee supporters. We're from Korea. I became a raw recruit through wartime enlistment, so I don't have an official rank yet."
"What? Refugees? So, you guys are just nobody?"
That complaint came from someone who perfectly matched their emaciated appearance. A nervy reaction.
The group's demeanor soured too. Conversation was difficult, but listening comprehension was possible.
They understood enough short comments. Gyeo-ul gestured for them to stay calm. Many in the gymnasium were also uncomfortable with the man's remarks.
Gyeo-ul instructed Jin-seok and Je-jung to drop their bags. As attention focused on them, the knots were untied and the bags kicked open.
Clatter.
Supplies spilled out. The sharp gazes turned instantly.
"If we're nobodies, what do you think of the food we've brought?"
"Uh..."
There was still plenty of canned food even after their team had eaten. Enough to go around.
Tension was in the air. These were hungry people. It seemed they had been hungry for some time.
A few people hesitated, rushing forward then stopping when Gyeo-ul raised his handgun and waved a hand to hold them back.
"We brought this to share anyway, but first, I'll need an apology. From him, directly."
The thin man's expression turned sour. But it was difficult to withstand the silent pressure for long.
Silent gazes of reproach. The man had been wrong from the start. Gyeo-ul just amplified the effect.
"I'm...sorry."
It was an insincere apology. The man sulkily turned away. People looked to the boy for approval.
Was that enough? The boy demanded no more.
"Sorry for the inconvenience. Now, would everyone please line up? If there's a rush, someone might get hurt, and that's not what any of us want."
Having to repeat himself in both English and Korean was inconvenient. His team needed to understand too.
Yura was tasked with the distribution. After all, a woman's touch seemed gentler. Still, he positioned Jin-seok behind her.
His temperament, being what it was, was quite fitting given his agitated state. He was someone who gave the appropriate impression of control.
People gulped, yet still, they lined the students up first. Proving they hadn't lost enough rationality to dismiss common decency.
"Do you have any spoons or forks?"
Though there were spoons, they were insufficient. It appeared they had been recycled by washing them.
When a student timidly asked, Gyeo-ul wore an apologetic expression.
"We didn't prepare for that. In a pinch, you can fold the lid into a spoon. Be careful not to cut yourself while folding."
Thin aluminum folded easily to form shapes. Narrowing the part used as a handle created a passable substitute for a spoon. Those hesitating at the idea of eating with their hands started eating properly.
"It seems none of you have been completely starving."
Gyeo-ul directed his comment to a middle-aged Caucasian man of good stature. His hair showed hints of gray, but despite being dirtied, he still wore a suit.
Even wearing a tie. Gyeo-ul thought to himself, this person seemed traditional and dignified. The slow eating reinforced his theory.
The middle-aged man adjusted his glasses and nodded.
"Ah... We had canned food and processed meat from the cafeteria. Though a few died obtaining it... the wise Amalia also had vitamin supplements, which helped. However, we had so little left that we had just cut back on portions a few days ago... We're truly fortunate you arrived when you did. Had you delayed another day, you'd have seen us fighting amongst ourselves."
"Is that so..."
"I'm sorry for the late introduction. I'm Stuart Hamill, the principal here."
"I see. Principal. As you might already know, I'm Han Gyeo-ul. We say our surname first in Korea, so Han is my surname and Gyeo-ul my name."
"Gyo-eul... Certainly hard to pronounce. I see why you ask to go by your surname, Mr. Han."
The principal chuckled, then with a more serious tone, asked,
"Pardon, but how old are you?"
In American culture, asking directly about age is uncommon. It's an effort to treat each person the same regardless of age.
Intergenerational friendships are common. Yet, principal Hamill had a reason for asking.
"As an educator, I can't help but worry. You don't seem much older than my students, yet you fight armed..."
"Are you suggesting I'm a child soldier?"
"... Yes."
Indeed, for an educator, the existence of child soldiers was an unacceptable outrage.
It's easily dismissed as irrelevant to Korea. However, until 2005, Korea had a wartime student mobilization plan.
A government plan under the Ministry of Education, not the Ministry of National Defense. Its formal name was the "Wartime Student Reserve Corps Operation Plan."
It involved making teachers captains and selecting "proper students" as squad leaders, essentially militarizing school structures.
Gyeo-ul responded, "Seventeen."
"Oh..."
The principal was appalled.
"In this kind of world... what else could be done?"
For once, it was a statement with more sincerity than fabrication. The principal shook his head.
"Even in any world, minors should be protected, Mr. Han. Fighting at the risk of one's life is a heavy burden even for adults. For a minor, it leaves indelible scars. And the people with you seem to follow your lead, Mr. Han?"
"As I mentioned, survival is our top priority. They follow not based on my age but on my abilities... what I can and will do."
"That's wrong. Abilities, you say? Consider substituting 'abilities' with 'killing ability'. Those focused solely on such an ability tended to be dictators or massacres. There's no separate path to justice. Justice is the path."
Though hungry, principal Hamill passionately continued his argument. He was a good person.
However, seeing him only in a positive light was impossible. Principal Hamill wouldn't entirely acknowledge Gyeo-ul's leadership as a minor, representing a disadvantage he had to accept.
Yet outwardly, he just smiled and said,
"Thank you for the wise words. Still, it couldn't be helped. If I hadn't fought, more people would've been harmed or killed. Including myself."
"..."
Principal Stuart Hamill sighed deeply. Gyeo-ul gestured.
"Please finish your meal. I have questions to ask afterward."
He wasn't being insincere. Gyeo-ul gathered the principal and others to spread out a map.
It was to prepare by gathering information for their next return. He asked about the locations of pharmacies, gun stores, grocery stores, private warehouses, and marked them on the map in order.
Such information was difficult to thoroughly obtain through aerial reconnaissance.
They were most accurately acquired through local libraries, government offices, or local residents.
Gyeo-ul had acquired the 「Memorization」 skill. The system-corrected memory expands based on intelligence and related skills. Naturally, it differs from the player's own memory.
The character's memory is likened to a storage medium. It can be recalled anytime, reacting both consciously and unconsciously, and interlinked with 「Insight」.
While useful, it isn't essential. Hence, he had saved experience points. Level 2. Still, it was much better than not having it.
Night quickly arrived. Lighting had to be used judiciously to avoid leaking outside, as mutants would flock like moths to a flame.
The initial disaster broadcasts proved effective. The U. S. had a well-developed disaster control system.
Gyeo-ul quietly observed the people in the gymnasium.
They stayed in tents inside the building. The type with frames that could expand without stakes. Just barely fitting thirty-four people.
Even in such times, everyone didn't sleep at once, posting sentries meant less space was needed.
They relied on portable tap water for drinking water, though not directly drinkable, being a nation with many survivalists, one person had a portable water purifier.
A pump-style purifier capable of filtering 1 liter per minute, it was high-end. He spoke with its owner.
He boasted how its filter could process up to 50,000 liters, lasting 12,500 days for a single user.
Their handling of waste and garbage was decent too. Near the scoreboard was a round window that, while not operable, had a pane strategically broken to create an opening.
Waste was gathered and disposed of through it. They sealed it with plastic and tape when not in use. The source of the unpleasant waste odor noticed when entering the gym was identified there.
Despite the collapse of civilization, people hadn't entirely abandoned their old daily routines.
They didn't quickly head to bed just because it was dark and they had nothing to do. People flocked around the group, eager for news from Camp Roberts.
Apart from Gyeo-ul, the group was perplexed. Conversations in English weren't viable, and the reality of their refugee status was embarrassing.
Gyeo-ul understood their desire not to appear weak.
However, he was honest.
"Even at the camp, things aren't perfect. But it's certainly better than here."
If they successfully returned, the truth would inevitably come out. The female teacher named Amalia raised her hand.
"How many people are there?"
"There are many. Very many. Most are refugees. The majority are from East Asia, followed by Oceania. There are also American citizens who joined after the California outbreak."
"Could you provide more details?"
"Food and cold-weather supplies are scarce. That's why refugee supporters like us are working with the military to procure from the outside. U. S. citizens receive preferential treatment, so refugees find it difficult to get the necessary supplies."
As expected, some changed their demeanor. They began to look down on them.
Though few in number, those with value perceiving traits like "racial prejudice" likely had these views.
During earlier periods of 「After the Apocalypse」, Gyeo-ul couldn't withstand anger toward such people, even if they were merely AI.
Now, although still dealing with discomfort, he grew accustomed to enduring.
Certainly, he didn't just endure. If the boy had once held any solace in virtual reality, it was in not having to suppress his anger.
He had lived too long suppressing it. Even if his opponents were merely human in appearance, to him, it had worthwhile significance.
Gyeo-ul resolutely pointed to one who had chuckled.
"You there, with the hat. Is it appropriate to mock someone who's come to help, regardless of the circumstances?"
"I...what do you mean? That's a misunderstanding!"
"Is that so. I hope it is."
Since entering, he hadn't set down his handgun. He gently tapped the slide with his index finger, away from the trigger guard.
The man's expression twisted, and he ducked into his tent. The unscolded people were equally terrified. They dispersed individually.
Whenever issuing a warning, addressing an unspecified majority reduces its effectiveness. A majority inherently becomes stronger simply by being one.
This was a lesson learned from having played through many cycles.
---------------------------= Author's Note ---------------------------=
1. I have reserve forces training tomorrow, so I'm posting this in advance.
2. The publication schedule is 3 to 5 times a week on weekdays. I'm not taking weekends off, but writing "Seal Breaker".
3. All the locations and place names depicted in this novel are real. The travel distances described are also accurate. I might compile them and post them on a blog someday.
4. I appreciate those who point out errors.