The Little Prince in the Ossuary-Chapter 123 : April Vengeance (12)

April Vengeance (12)

The governor never revealed his name until the end.

[My name, you mean? Haha, no way. I can't tell you that. I'm the governor. That's all there is to it. Even if the history of mankind is lucky enough to continue, my name won't remain in it.]

It was an obsession to a bizarre degree. To call someone by their name is a tool for empathetic conversation. Considering that forming common ground is a prerequisite for successful negotiation, one could say that a difficult roadblock had presented itself from the beginning.

However, joanna Gibson was a skilled negotiator. She carefully conveyed her 「Insight」 to Gyeo-ul. The psychology of a criminal obsessed with hiding his identity ultimately serves as a mechanism to cover up his guilt.

"First Lieutenant, you should know. You'll have to face him alone. Whether a conversation is necessary or not is doubtful, but you must prepare for any possibility. After all, we have no idea about his current situation."

Right now, Gyeo-ul was passing the 7th floor, breaking through the 6th deck. The FBI agent was remaining on the bridge. Although the negotiation was over, she still had tasks to handle there.

"In the assumption that you succeed, surprise attacks are always an effective strategy. Those with high intellectual vanity are easily absorbed in their own words, admiring their own eloquence. It's a kind of narcissism, one might say? So, I'll keep making him talk. As long as that's happening, it'll be difficult for him to have any other thoughts."

The more one encourages roleplay-based self-rationalization, the more it heats up. During that time, Gyeo-ul had to push down to the 4th deck. The aim was to reduce the enemy's window of response to the extreme.

As he walked down the quiet hallway, Gyeo-ul mulled over the negotiation that had passed.

[No, no. Because there's a hero on this ship right now, there's no way I can get out alive. Even if I do, what awaits me is only a noble court's death sentence.]

The governor did not believe the offer to spare his life.

[Do you not understand, joanna Gibson? There's First Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul with you. If it weren't for him, I might have had a chance. But the moment that Lieutenant boarded this ship, I became the villain in a hero's tale. The public will be thrilled by a battle of good and evil—and that battle will of course end with the final defeat of evil.]

What he pointed out were the propaganda broadcasts transmitted worldwide up until now. He also logically predicted that the tragedy of the April Pacific would be added to that spectacle.

[So your promise is meaningless. Those far above you will want a sacrificial victim. Oh, citizens of the United States! Look at this villain burning in the flames! And remember that you are different from this villain! ... Ah, yes. Order is built upon someone's corpse. Just as I created order on this ship. The worst order is better than the best chaos.]

A young hero defeats a man-eating monster in a lonely sea, restoring justice. This truly was the Odyssey of the 21st century. That's how the killer rambled on. The original text he referenced was the story of Odysseus encountering the one-eyed monster. If anything, it was a fair comparison. The one-eyed giants of Sicily herded sheep and lived by eating people.

Once the killer was completely absorbed in his own rhetoric, rebuttal was pointless.

Thus, the detective steered the negotiation into a contest of pride.

"It seems there are other reasons behind his sense of desperation. I don't know exactly what, but... in any case, it's something we can take advantage of."

Those were Joanna Gibson's words.

Gyeo-ul arrived at an intermediate waypoint: the control room on the sixth deck. The door, marked "Authorized Personnel Only," was open. Inside was a maintenance vertical shaft—not marked on the map, but confirmed by the closed circuit feed. He would be able to descend to the fifth floor. The FBI agent's voice came through the speakers.

—Please proceed. There's nothing inside the door.

She was simultaneously handling the madman and monitoring Gyeo-ul's movements.

—5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Bulkhead closure complete. You don't need to worry about your rear. There are no special mutants capable of breaking the bulkhead detected. Multiple mutants have been spotted inside the control room. At the junction straight ahead, to the left five meters, there are six normal mutants. Deeper inside, out of direct sight, more than twenty additional mutants are confirmed. You're expected to encounter the follow-up group within 20 seconds of the initial battle. Prepare for consecutive combat.

Originally designed for internal ship announcements, the system now served as a means of issuing orders. The remotely controlled bulkhead from the bridge proved helpful. Each time that measured voice echoed, the mutants screamed and screeched in response, craning their necks and rattling, dadadadak.

Two-way communication was impossible. She and Gyeo-ul were too far apart. The radio was completely dead. If Gyeo-ul absolutely had to relay something, he would need to find an internal line at each point, or convey messages and gestures in front of the cameras.

For now, that wasn't necessary. The detective was handling even the role of noise maker. Her abilities were remarkable.

—There's one juvenile among them. Exercise caution in the engagement.

That meant to adjust his aim for height when targeting vital spots; basic advice for approaching in two dimensions.

Gyeo-ul inspected the ceiling. Above the fluorescent lights, a tangle of unknown pipes crisscrossed. Would those support his weight?

He could just try it. He kicked between the walls, climbing three meters. He hung, minimizing shock. So far, no noise. Fine particles of metal scattered from the fixtures. Even on a luxury cruise ship, places untouched by hands or eyes were inevitably neglected. Even so, it was sturdy.

'Unexpected. I must be over 0.1 tons by now.'

Body armor, ballistic plates, various sidearms and explosives, even a pack full of ammunition—add all the extra gear, and it was murderous weight. Even for Gyeo-ul, who had practically exceeded human potential, it felt burdensome.

While hanging, he gave the fixture a kick. A faint metallic resonance. It would hold. Gyeo-ul released his grip. Cha-ak. Almost a soundless landing.

But the diseased ones had already heard the clang and were shuffling closer. Their footsteps approached around the corner—the sound of dragging feet, some bare, some not. Gyeo-ul readied for close-quarters shooting: machete in one hand, pistol in the other.

Three, two, one. Kwaduk! The first one to appear, he stabbed with the knife under its chin. Blood gushed out. Five more behind it noticed him and shrieked. As they thrust their arms and surged forward, tangling together, Gyeo-ul kicked the dead one's corpse at their knees, aiming for the moment their balance broke.

Crash.

'Maximum 20 seconds. 19, 18, 17...'

The detective's estimate would be accurate. Gyeo-ul gunned down the toppled ones like dominoes. Tatata-tang! Four quick shots, four bullets in four skulls. 16, 15, 14.

Only the juvenile survived, scrambling to stand. Gyeo-ul raised his machete high, slashed horizontally through its two tiny eyes. Jjak! Blood spattered the wall. 13, 12.

Yet another came charging. He baited it, running noisily—thump, thump, thump. The blinded juvenile collided and fell, chasing after him with blood broadcasting from its ruined eyes. 11, 10, 9. Blood tears everywhere. Gyeo-ul slipped through the door behind him, leaped up onto the ceiling pipes like in training.

The juvenile passed by underneath, thinking Gyeo-ul had run ahead.

A few seconds later, two seconds faster than Agent Gibson had predicted, a violent crowd swept through the narrow corridor, drawn by the juvenile's bloody wail. Urrrrr. Once they had gone by, Gyeo-ul dropped down and closed the door. Click. The bolt turned. The ones that left would not be returning.

—Well done. Now there's no further threat to the vertical shaft. Proceed.

The order echoed only in Gyeo-ul's section.

'I thought about taking down the governor's power structure through the general broadcast...'

To take down, meaning the governor's forces. There weren't enough cameras in the inner grand galley, and even those had mostly been destroyed. Naturally, on a ship with rival factions, the first thing to destroy would be the cameras to avoid surveillance. The damage on decks 3, 4, and 5 was especially severe. More than half of the areas were hidden from view.

But they couldn't block out the broadcast. The announcements from right outside the galley would be audible all the way inside.

The best way to topple authority is authority itself. That was Gyeo-ul's thought. Once word got out that the US military had arrived, internal division among the enemies would be inevitable.

But the detective refused the proposal. It was about the safety of possible hostages, however slim that chance might be. Massacres. There was already an abundance of evidence and context, but their mental states were clearly far from normal.

There was also the uncertainty about how the governor would act if he lost control. He could still have followers even then.

Her point was a valid one.

Kkieeek? Something small jumped from the air duct. A blurred shape. Gyeo-ul smashed it with his fist. Ppa-ak! The small thing spun, skidding. Broken teeth clattered to the floor.

The thing that hit the floor did not move. Judging by size alone, it was a fetal mutant. But unlike the black ones seen at Atascadero, this one looked completely different. With half its face caved in by the blow, it died instantly—likely a concussion.

White smoke rose from his glove, bathed in the creature's secretions. With a grimace, Gyeo-ul quickly tore it off. The artificial leather sizzled, bubbling and melting away.

The dead body on the floor also started to bubble. When he quickly backed away, the skin split open, and a swelling yellow pustule pushed out from the gap. After just a few seconds—pop! It exploded, scattering fluid everywhere. The coated floor was fine, but metal surfaces reacted obviously. Smoke rose from a pipe on the wall where it landed.

Acid explosion? What the hell is this? Thumpthumpthump. Clattering, loud noises drew closer from deep in the air duct. Gyeo-ul stepped on the pipe, climbing up and fired his pistol into the duct. Tatata-tang! The muzzle flash revealed squirming figures stacked inside in a fleeting light.

'So they only erupt after they die?'

No direct hits—keep distance after killing them if possible. He logged this information about the new mutant.

Gyeo-ul, crouched and waiting, listened as a series of popping sounds echoed—puh, pak, pak. Sounded like sobbing gasps behind him. Even without looking, he could picture their battered bodies dragging through the corridor.

He shone his light into the vent. The harsh glare made the wrinkle-filled face—like an old man's—twist even more grotesquely, melting in real time as it crawled forward. The acid pustule explosions were damaging even others of their kind. Kkieeeek. In the end, it couldn't make it all the way, coughing its death rattle. Another small monster began to swell. Gyeo-ul counted the seconds as he dodged.

Pak! Three seconds from death to explosion—the same as a grenade fuse. He made a final check of the area, surveying where the fluid had splattered.

What would happen if these things landed ashore? It seemed the navy had another reason for its orders. He had suspicions before, but now he was almost certain.

Just why is everything so different? Gyeo-ul felt frustrated with a world that kept unveiling new, unpredictable developments. The stress he had held down surfaced suddenly.

This world—it's Gyeo-ul's last chance, for all intents and purposes. Restarting again is always possible, but many spectators would leave, and repaying his debts would become impossible. All that would be left is a deferred catastrophe.

Gyeo-ul himself has no will to live. But when he tried to honestly confess that and say goodbye, the one rose that had bloomed in his life cried. She said if you leave, I too will wilt. A selfish plea, but she begged him to stay in this world, even if only for her.

Existence after death brought him no joy, but it was the one reason to keep gathering starlight.

Roses have thorns. A life unable to release the rose can only be painful. For Gyeo-ul, it was a life he didn't want yet was forced to prolong. He already considers himself dead.

So, in some sense, the progress of Gyeo-ul's worldview is precarious. Even knowing it's the last chance, he does not avoid danger—often feeling like he wants to let everything go. So instead, he chooses to at least protect his heart. Even if he loses everything else, surely his heart's choices are still truly his own.

It is a contradiction. But this is Gyeo-ul's best.

Beeeep—Beep—

A nearby internal line rang softly. It was a call from Supervisor Gibson, who had witnessed the same thing. She wasted no time asking after his well-being as soon as he answered. Gyeo-ul quickly calmed himself. The acting skills he had grown accustomed to now helped, for better or worse, and he replied that there was nothing wrong, making this request:

"Don't alert the navy yet. I'm worried they'll insist on an immediate evacuation, no matter what. Not that I'd comply, even if ordered."

[Are you sure about that?]

"I just need to be careful."

[Something's nagging at me.]

And so Gyeo-ul had to wait a moment. Over the open channel, the governor's feverish voice could be heard, still eager to talk. Agent Gibson's tone matched, as if humoring him. Then she returned to the internal line with Gyeo-ul.

[That idiot said something strange. That there's a huge obstacle between us. Even when pressed, he wouldn't elaborate, but from the context, I think it was a hint about some kind of special mutant. Something about a monument of sins for human survival... It's worrying. Maybe that's partly why he's so desperate... I hope, at the very least, that it's nothing more than what we've already seen...]

"I'll keep that in mind. Anything else you want to say?"

[Uhmm... First Lieutenant.]

She hesitated, then forced out a difficult question.

[Would you consider withdrawing, even now?]

"Why would you say that? Don't you think it's already too late to go back?"

[I'll be frank. I think there are hostages, but I can't say for certain. To risk the life of someone like you for such an uncertain possibility... Maybe this sounds unpleasant, but it's not cost-effective.]

"Cost-effective?"

[I was a supervisor and a commander. Like it or not, I had to see people as resources. The responsibility to save as many subordinates as possible is also the obligation to sometimes sacrifice a few for the many. I've abandoned irrelevant people for the sake of a few subordinates before. There were times I wanted to bash my head and die.]

A long silence followed. Her next words came after a full minute.

[You can't measure the value of life by numbers, nor its weight. I understand that's what you believe. I analyzed the data about you before you were deployed. However, first Lieutenant, the mission in San Francisco is clearly more important than the rescue here.]

Another pause.

[There's a possibility—even a nuclear strike might befall the mainland. For the greater mission, perhaps now is the time to retreat. If we lose you here, the navy that helped us will be dragged into needless trouble, and I personally would find it unbearable. Not just as a supervisor, but as a person. Many people's hope, not just mine, depends on you. Please, I'm asking you to reconsider, just this once.]

"......."

Gyeo-ul tilted his head.

---------------------------= Author's Note ---------------------------=

#Q&A

Q. Guaaaaak: @What happens if you eat infected flesh? Do you also get infected?

A. You don't get infected, but...hahaha. Please don't ask for more details.

Q. Xedrions: @What's the meaning of your username?

A. It's the name of a Russian river. It's estimated that a meteorite landed in its basin. You can find it if you look up the Tunguska event.

Q. Kaiph: @How much of your childlike heart is manifested here?

A. Um...about...30 percent?

Q. PAM: @A world where anything can happen is the apocalypse. Even if I can't empathize, I get it. If you posted two chapters a day, readers would like you twice as much and you'd get twice the love, so it would be win-win. Why don't you do that?

A. I'd like to if I could... It'd be good for the author too. Earnings per view would be almost four times what they are now... But for an incompetent author like me, it's impossible. Tears are falling...

Q. AntiChrist: @Ah! That childlike heart overflows!!!! I want to lick-lick the author's brain to know how you come up with these ideas

A. My brain is detachable, so I guess you could lick it...but it's mine. I won't draw it for anyone.

Q. BlackRain66: @You mentioned dreams in your postscript—reminds me: in a dream, passing by a house with books scattered around, I think I saw Ossuary vol.17... Looking back, was that a prophetic dream?! That Ossuary will reach over 17 volumes?! I'm looking forward to it.

A. 17 volumes...hm...it seems impossible... or maybe not...

I always fail at predicting length, so it's really hard to give an answer. Haha.

Q. BlackRain66: @Originally, I was going to read after stockpiling about 20 chapters, but now I'm checking after just 4. Partly because I wanted to read it, but also to ask: if you serialize on another platform, can you notify us? But for some reason, you're the only author I can't DM—did you hide your account with childlike innocence? (Seriously though, you come up in a search, but not in the chat window. For a moment, I wondered if Joara blocks DMs to protect authors from being pestered about posting on other platforms!) Write well!

A. Official announcements naming other platforms might be difficult... 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

There are plenty of readers still messaging me. "Retired member," you say—how odd.

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