00007 - The Little Prince in the Ossuary
#Intermission, Loading Page Explanation
When a user employs the time acceleration function or encounters a time segmentation due to quest progress, a loading process for situational calculation may occur.
During the loading screen, various information such as advice left by the control AI or the production team, explanations of the game system, clues to help understand the situation, DLC, and additional product advertisements are provided.
This is referred to as "Intermission" in 「After the Apocalypse」.
#Intermission, Journal and Time Acceleration
The journal is a medium that records and conveys the user's progress and background.
Users can experience the major contents of the journal through 'sensory synchronization'.
Even when using the time acceleration function, major events that occurred during that period are documented in the journal, occasionally conveying information that the user could not have known or revisiting critical information that was overlooked. (As it is a record, it can be reviewed. Real-time feedback may occur in related situations.)
However, qualitative differences may arise depending on the user's abilities.
All elements in the game are directly or indirectly influenced by the user's capabilities.
Time acceleration for automatic progression is an essential function for game progress in a full-scale virtual reality worldview where time flows in the game world identical to real-time.
If there are displeasing parts in the contents of automatic progression by time acceleration, the user may restart the game from that point once, limited to the first time.
This must start with manual progress, and the time acceleration function will be disabled for a certain period.
Therefore, results worse than the original may occur.
When using time acceleration, the virtual persona responsible for journal records learns the player's behavior patterns collected from previous rounds.
Thus, the more rounds experienced in 「After the Apocalypse」, the more the virtual persona resembles you.
Usually, when data has been accumulated over more than 10 rounds, the virtual persona can act and choose almost similarly to you, enabling smoother progress.
#Journal, page 29, Camp Roberts
The first resource procurement mission ended as a half success.
While the task of securing food, heating, and winter supplies, and fuel was sufficiently achieved, it was difficult to call it a complete success due to the emergence of the injured.
However, the biggest problem was that the U. S. military came to mistrust the refugee supporters.
On the church-dispatched side, a bloody incident erupted among the supporters.
After extinguishing the mutant, they bickered over resource distribution.
The person who killed the mutant claimed credit and tried to take everything, leading to others stabbing them in the back with a knife.
The suspicions raised by their heated voices revealed the atrocity upon being checked by the U. S. military.
Upon returning to the camp, there were supporters attempting to smuggle firearms.
Since having firearms on refugees would worry the U. S. military about riots, body searches were conducted thoroughly, and many begged, saying they needed to protect themselves upon detection.
To some extent, this was understandable, but it further declined trust in the supporters.
Additionally, at the mill where I was, several U. S. soldiers were trapped inside the building and injured.
Fortunately, there were no deaths. The most serious injury was a refugee supporter paralyzed from the waist down under a beam.
Meanwhile, the soldiers mostly sustained injuries requiring approximately a month of recovery.
Admittedly, attributing blame for the sudden train appearance and derailment accident was challenging, but the issue was that the supporters all fled against the infected mutants immediately after.
My assessment increased as I was the only one who stood and fought, but skepticism regarding supporter reliability led soldiers to refuse a new resource procurement mission.
At least a different approach needed to be reviewed. Camp headquarters was positive about this.
Apparently, some soldiers who saw me fight reported that I should be watched.
Lieutenant Robert Capstone inquired about the details, but Sergeant Pierce defended me.
"We don't need to listen to the cowards, commander. The important thing is that this little guy stayed and fought to the end, and I judged it's worth trusting him."
Although how the report went up was unknown, following the battalion commander's decision, I heard that if I wanted, I could be treated as a volunteer.
They promised to change my accommodation to the U. S. military sector, provide uniforms and gear given to the soldiers, and offer various conveniences.
Although firearm carriage was forbidden, it was a significant privilege nonetheless.
Hearing that Corporal Elliot, one of the injured, wanted to see me, I visited him, and he shared a meaningful remark.
"The higher-ups are contemplating. They might integrate trustworthy people into the U. S. military. Treating you as a volunteer might be preliminary preparation for that. Who knows, you might become a regular soldier later. Maybe you'll become Private Gearuel. Join in as my junior. Haha."
When asked if such a thing was possible, the Corporal found it amusing.
"Why not? Is there any military with more immigrant personnel than the U. S. military? Guilherme joined for citizenship too. The U. S. is currently under a general mobilization order, and Lieutenant Capstone also recommended that I become an officer or non-commissioned officer through wartime commissioning. Then naturally, there will be a shortage of soldiers. How would they replenish the manpower resources in an isolated camp like this? I think you're more than qualified."
"Won't my age be an issue?"
"It's the crisis of human extinction."
It was a calm yet heavy answer. I said I'd think about it and returned to my accommodation.
The tent, prepared for my use alone, was a mess. It was clear someone had rummaged through my belongings.
Since I didn't have anything of personal value, they must have been targeting the ration cards.
The ration cards I received in exchange for visiting San Miguel were significantly more than others'.
While people didn't know the exact amounts, they naturally assumed I'd received more.
There was much jealousy. Regardless of performance, the price for risking lives should be the same.
Since I kept the ration cards on my person, they were not stolen. However, it seems I can no longer sleep soundly.
For safety, accepting the integration offer might be a better option.
「AI Help (Insight Level 6): You achieved excellent results on the first supply mission and received an offer to integrate as a volunteer. Accepting the offer will make it difficult to refuse missions assigned by the U. S. military later, reducing your freedom of action. Depending on the mission nature, your life could be in danger. Also, attempts to get you to join each organization will frequently occur. If you reject the offer, hostile random events are likely, and without acquiring sufficient skills, including 「Survival Sense」, you might be killed.」
「Player's Choice: Accept the offer.」
I made my decision. Without hesitation, I went to see Lieutenant Robert Capstone.
The thought of leaving it to someone else made me uneasy.
The Lieutenant welcomed my decision and entrusted me to Sergeant Pierce to settle my accommodation.
The next day, the battalion commander gathered the refugees and put me on the platform.
Praising my brave actions, the announcement of my integration into the U. S. military was made.
The intent behind creating such a grand stage seemed clear.
#Journal, page 30, Camp Roberts
Throughout the night, I repeatedly woke up and fell asleep. I must have felt uncomfortable being assigned to a tent with strangers after having one to myself as a manager.
According to the U. S. soldiers sharing the barrack with me, Camp Roberts was a National Guard facility used during training and was quite outdated.
They said it was usual in modern barracks to have single rooms, or at most, sharing with three people.
They mentioned it was normal for each personal room to be equipped with separate toilets and shower rooms.
Despite being an older model with limited capacity, the barrack was still quite spacious due to the excessive number of people using it.
The improvised partitions made with curtains and partitions were impressive. It must be due to the culture of valuing personal space.
Although unofficially, having become a volunteer, the ration cards I received became meaningless.
This was because I could now use the dining facility, or as soldiers called it, the D-Fac (Dining Facility) or Chow Hall.
The food provided at the dining facility was vastly different in quantity and quality compared to what was allocated to refugees.
Although the U. S. soldiers complained about the taste, I found it quite palatable.
However, it felt rather salty and greasy. There were many cheese dishes, likely because a lot of cheese had been brought in from the town.
The peacetime duties I received as a volunteer involved routine training and patrolling the Korean refugee area.
It was a role to assist the police. Although the U. S. military and San Francisco police jointly managed security, it was mostly for show.
The reasoning was that, since I was a fellow refugee, there would be less resistance and I could pay more attention to finer details.
I was also asked to recruit trustworthy individuals. Apparently, Elliot's words were true.
I received attire from the supply officer.
Lieutenant Capstone, finding some time, personally advised me to always wear a bulletproof vest.
This was out of concern that, being a Korean volunteer, I might easily become a target of resentment from refugees of other nationalities.
Although a bulletproof vest is not the same as a stab-proof vest, he added that it should easily defend against short concealed weapons likely in the refugees' possession.
I thanked him for his concern, and he reassuringly patted my shoulder. He truly was a good person.
However, not everyone was good. Captain Markat, upon seeing me in combat uniform, inquired about my affiliation.
When I explained that I had become a reserve volunteer per the battalion commander's directive, he was outright dismissive.
"Putting on new clothes doesn't change the mind inside. Banana brat."
His casually uttered words stung quite a bit. The term 'banana', likening an Asian striving to act Caucasian to a fruit yellow outside but white inside, was obviously derogatory.
Usually, racial discrimination is strongly forbidden within the U. S. military.
However, given the current state of affairs, such overt behavior occurred without anyone raising objections.
A dying world not only kills many people but also revives many long-buried things. Mostly unfavorable. It was to his detriment too.
It wasn't as if there weren't soldiers of color. Acting that way, he might end up being fragged (murdered by subordinates).
He lacked perception.
When I went to the refugee area, even those I had been somewhat friendly with had changed in attitude.
It was understandable if they acted either sycophantic or estranged, but those who began shunning me were unfathomable.
When I directly asked them why, they were both flustered and infuriated.
They called me a traitor.
Allegedly sucking up to the U. S. soldiers to receive kickbacks while indulging in sexual bribery, and then pretending to be a soldier, they criticized harshly.
They said Koreans were a nation that helped one another in difficult times, but since I had avoided being part of a group, I deserved all the criticism.
They mocked me for pretending to be an officer now and told me to go and tattle to the Americans.
I didn't know how to respond to that.
I suddenly felt like an outsider who didn't belong anywhere.
#Past (2), on the Eve of the Deal, go Ah-young
Chairman Go Guncheol of Hyesung Group tapped an empty glass with his fingers. He missed the taste of alcohol.
Since the betrayal of the one woman he had loved for the first and last time, he found it hard to fall asleep without it.
Therefore, lately, he was always tired. The medical team's directive to stay away from alcohol a week prior to the deal was to blame.
Knock, knock, knock. The sound of knocking on the door. The chairman ignored it.
"Father, it's me."
The voice of his only daughter. His anger flared up. He didn't want to see her face. He shouted sharply.
"I know. Leave."
"......"
His daughter, go Ah-young, did not heed his words. Seeing the door open, the chairman picked up the glass he had been fiddling with and threw it.
Whoosh.
The air was torn with a sound so harsh, she recoiled in surprise. It sailed over her shoulder, breaking far behind her.
Crash.
The delicate sound of shattering fragments filled the empty corridor. Hearing this, staff members appeared with cleaning tools.
After a glance their way, they began tidying the floor. It was nothing new. When the father and daughter were together, this often happened.
The chairman growled.
"Did I not tell you to hide that cursed face when you appear before me?"
"... I'm sorry."
Ah-young lowered her head, biting her lip. Her captivating hair fell, veiling half her face.
Despite this, her striking beauty shone even in the dimly lit room. She was over thirty but showed no signs of aging.
The chairman ground his teeth. A cunning woman. The woman he once loved had not aged with her looks either.
Her face, eerily similar to that damned mother of hers that sent chills through him, displeased him immensely.
Still, he put up with it. She was the only true kin born of the five children begotten with that woman, once her mother.
"What do you want?"
"I have something to tell you."
"What is it?"
Ah-young hesitated for a moment. However, she did not keep her father waiting long.
"Couldn't you reconsider the deal?"
"Why?"
"......"
"Why!"
The chairman raged.
"You rotten girl! Your father intends to seize a youthful vessel and start anew, and you're unsatisfied! Ah, that's it. You think I have to die old for you to inherit the business! That's your plan, isn't it?"
"No! I have no interest in the business!"
"Then why!"
"Is there really a need to take someone else's body? Can't you just clone yourself from your genes and transplant that? Why break the law for greed over another's body?!"
The chairman gazed calmly at his daughter. He smirked.
"Hah. Is that what this is? Left in charge of product management, do you now pity the young man?"
"......"
Indeed, she felt pity. Go Guncheol had instructed Ah-young to oversee the product management process.
The deal target, a boy, unbeknownst to him, was being watched at every move.
Seeing and hearing everything, a-Young found the boy's situation heartwrenching.
The decent child was willingly accepting sacrifice for his family.
Merely satisfied knowing his body's sale meant ease for the rest of his family.
The chairman said.
"Don't utter such filth. Nothing beats nature! Cloning? Cloning? Ha! That's untested technology! Those bodies grown a year from fetus to transplantable age with growth stimulants, what unforeseen problems might they bring? Hmph, nature's finest! Definitely!"
"But isn't it unlawful? It's not a rightful act."
"Nothing unlawful about it! The law's rotten! It's riddled with communist ideology! Freedomism! South Korea is a free democratic state! Individuals have rights to self-disposal! The party consented, and his parents consented too! Not harming anyone, so what's the fuss? Cancel the deal now, would those paupers fall to their knees in gratitude? Ha, wake up!"
Her scoffing father drew a breath, then coldly proclaimed.
"I'm not a philanthropist. If the deal's undone, we'll doggedly take back everything those paupers received."
Ah-young bowed her head deeper. Canceling the deal would put that family in a dire situation.
Like her father, the boy's parents didn't value their child very much and had already spent much of the advance money.
They'd already bought two foreign cars. One for each, husband and wife. Also, the house they currently resided in was given as part of the deal.
This made her feel more empathy and pity for the boy born in midwinter.
She wanted to tell him he didn't need to consider his parents. A child's life is their own. Ultimately, she couldn't say it.
"A word to the wise daughter who foolishly thinks spewing nonsense tarnishing my name in public is permissible..."
Go Guncheol's speech continued.
"Decades ago. In Germany, prostitutes and women's groups demonstrated for the legalization of sex work. Freedomism! Sexual self-determination belongs wholly to the individual, they cried. Indeed, that's correct. Whom one lies with doesn't hurt others. There were factual reasons too, notably livelihood issues. The logic was removing soliciting from those who could only earn through it meant they'd starve."
The daughter listened in silence. Talking about prostitution in front of his daughter didn't discomfort the father.
In fact, it was an intentional act to humiliate. His mixed love and hate for her often surfaced in such manners.
"Conversely, this country's Ministry of Gender Equality and Family and feminist groups fiercely opposed prostitution. They cited it violated women's rights and human dignity. Don't commodify humans, women...that's what they meant. Sure, the righteousness of that argument is acknowledged. However, listen to this. They didn't propose any alternatives for prostitutes who'd lose work immediately by regulating prostitution. Sure, job training opportunities were offered. Though slapdash as government projects often are, it sufficed for feminist groups. They had no interest in results. Why? Because they hadn't represented prostitutes but themselves from the start! It was solely vexed because knowing some women did such jobs bruised their pride! Whether those prostitutes perished was irrelevant!"
Ah-young understood her father's intent behind this. She guessed the upcoming remarks.
She could counter them. Saying it's inevitable and accepting it as necessary are very different ideas.
If it's inevitable in reality, striving for long-term improvement is apt. Hadn't the chairman himself acknowledged the righteousness in argumentation?
Yet, he was someone believing only his way of life was the sole truth.
Counterarguments would backfire, thus she remained silent.
Speaking of prostitution, there's that flashy few who get noticed. The media, liking sensationalism, gave them ample airtime and print.
Truth didn't matter until the ratings soared. Sensationalist yet safe.
Indeed, kosher Chul's following words stayed predictable.
"In summary, those empty-headed women's earnest message boiled down to this: Hard-up female comrades, we don't care how you subsist, but as selling your body offends our dignity, cease it. You're jobless? That's your issue. Starving to death? That's because you were lazy. Rather die, shouldn't you? Than live humiliated, selling yourself at the cost of female dignity?"
Irate, the temperamental chairman sprang up, ridiculing and mimicking a woman's voice absurdly.
Remarkably given his age surpassing seventy.
Such temperament made even the group executives wary of addressing him. Crossing him led to utter devastation.
"Demanding without practical alternatives is mere self-gratification. Does that boy seem pitiable? You'd fail your paltry sympathy and conscience. Would he be grateful afterward? Scrabbling to survive daily. You expect he'd console himself unashamedly with, 'but I own my body'? Haha!"
"Please stop."
"Stop what! You started this!"
Thud.
Excessive force landed on the table surface.
"Youth! My wasted youth, swept aside meaninglessly! That wench that absconded with half my life! A father seeks to reclaim that, yet trifling nonsense sours the mood, and you dare end this how!"
"I was wrong, so please stop."
Ultimately, it came to this.
Unloving parents raising children deserve all curses. Ah-young sought to erase her feelings. To avoid self-inflicted pain.
"Hmph."
The chairman sat down, his chin in his hand.
"I've lost my patience. Pathetic. Who did you take after to be this wretched? I surely handed down some of my prowess, but there's no sense of it."
"......"
"Leave. The interim tasks I entrusted, I'll assess the product condition tomorrow for a final evaluation."
"Good night."
"It's already ruined."
His dismissive wave.
Like swatting a fly. Defeatism, self-loathing, and contempt. Overwhelmed by these dreary emotions, a-Young exited her father's room.
Seeing the corridor was enervating. Long, wide, vacant. This mansion, the home of only two family members, felt towering.
Once quite warm, during those times when her mother's betrayal was unbeknownst to her father.
Ah-young found herself tottering down the corridor.
Clacky's Corner:
Damn it, this is depressing.