BSA Ch 22

The moment he heard the words “million-strong army,” Gwanchang saw through the fact that the traitor was, in reality, a patriot. The traitor had received instructions from Lee Hwa and provided various information to the secret agent Deng Li. The team members for the operation to scout out the traitor were Mukso, the secret agent Deng Li, and Gwanchang—these three and no one else. Aside from foresight, it would have been impossible to find out about the traitor-scouting operation.

In Gwanchang’s view, Lee Hwa was the type to push things to extremes. The hard gore propaganda movie show was the proof. A style where she casually tosses out absurd nonsense as if it were nothing, making the opponent doubt whether it could possibly be true. Once doubt begins to spin a spider’s web in a person’s heart—especially a monarch’s—it is the end. How many strategists had Mukso killed, suspecting them to be secret agents? They were all talents who should have been put to heavy use.

“Get in.”

The pretty private soldier opened the door to the quarters and pushed Gwanchang by the back. In front of a desk in the corner, a man lifted his head, saying, “You’re here?”, then opened his eyes wide.

“Who’s this guy?”

“A prisoner. Fluent in East-dialect octopus. They said to use him as a substitute until a successor arrives because the interpreter died.”

The pretty private said, taking off his uniform top. Gwanchang sat in a corner and scanned the room. It was narrow, but rather than a barracks, it was as clean as a college dormitory room. There were even a desk and a bookshelf.

“It’s my first time seeing a snake in person. Although I’ve heard the screams to exhaustion.”

The private’s roommate muttered. He was a novelist-like man wearing round glasses. Despite having a skinny physique unsuited for this hardcase legion, there was no sign of him being wary of Gwanchang. When a tall, muscular prisoner wanders around with his limbs free, people usually fear escape or a riot, but the round-glasses person’s reaction was quite contrary to common sense.

Is he acting like that because he trusts the pretty private? Even in this hardcase legion, the pretty private’s skills must be among the top few.

“Then translate this, snake.”

The round-glasses person handed a notebook to Gwanchang. Only after scanning the notebook did Gwanchang realize the reason the two people before his eyes received special treatment. They were the propaganda leaflet production team, and this cozy quarters was the leaflet production room.

The round-glasses person was the writer in charge of writing the story and propaganda text for the Mukso-defaming cartoon [Save Mukso’s Dick] featured on the leaflets. As much as the cartoon, the propaganda text had gifted great laughter to the snakes with its humorous writing style. Gwanchang suppressed his throbbing excitement and sat down in the chair.

I’m quite lucky today. Enjoying the honor of seeing the snakes’ popular stars up close.

He crafted the propaganda leaflets side by side with the round-glasses person and the pretty private. Gwanchang exerted his skills and translated it to the fullest, bringing out the round-glasses person’s unique humorous writing style.

“You know you’ll die if you translate it weirdly.”

The pretty but cruel private warned, wielding a penholder. The round-glasses person glanced sideways at Gwanchang. It was a pitying gaze.

“How old are you, snake?”

Asking age first—he was truly a peninsula person.

“I am twenty-eight.”

“Your pronunciation is good. What’s your name?”

“It’s Gwanchang.”

“Is your family name Gwan and given name Chang? It’s a pity to die at twenty-eight. In recognition of your translation efforts, send him off comfortably, Hopi.”

The round-glasses person nudged the pretty private’s flank.

“That’s for a superior to decide.”

The private, Hopi, replied with a poker face, only wielding his penholder. Even while engrossed in the translation work, Gwanchang doubted his ears for a moment. Is the private’s name Hopi? Tiger skin—it didn’t suit that pretty face at all.

When Gwanchang finished the translation, the popular stars also demanded erasing and ink-filling work.

“God must have tremendous abilities.”

Gwanchang tossed out a question casually while filling in the ink. According to the report filed by the secret agent Deng Li, the abilities displayed by Lee Hwa’s bloodline were not limited to just foresight. Among the past Lee Hwas, there were reportedly those who possessed telepathy, psychokinesis, and so on. Lee Hwa’s bloodline was definitely a mutation. A mutated monster clan spawned from the nuclear war that ended “that era.”

“Is that even a question? The great God possesses abilities no different from a creator, with only the body being human. You should feel grateful for the honor of being offered as God’s meal.”

The round-glasses person said with a straight face. Gwanchang chuckled silently. In his view, that round-glasses person was a thorough rationalist who dismissed Lee Hwa as a mere swindler. Even if one read just a single piece written by the round-glasses person, his rebellious tendency was as apparent as if you could grab it with your hand.

“Foresight has already shaken the continent with its fame. Perhaps, besides that, there are other terrifying abilities as well…”

“Shut up.”

Hopi spat out, keeping his gaze fixed on the manuscript while wielding his penholder. Gwanchang closed his mouth.

That fellow, what a savage personality.

He was like a very sharp, ice-cold knife in the shape of a person. To have such a terrifying personality on that astonishingly pretty face—the more he looked, the more unbalance it was. Perhaps Hopi was dissatisfied with his own face, too.

If that fellow had been a snake, I would have rammed him every night. The more terrifying a fellow like that is, the better it tastes to lay him out.

The moment Gwanchang muttered unconsciously in his mind, the corners of Hopi’s eyes twitched minutely. The change was brief; Hopi instantly returned to a poker face covered in ice. Gwanchang harbored doubts. Why did that terrifying ice face suddenly twitch the corners of his eyes? And of all times, it changed right the moment this side had lewd thoughts directed at him.

Surely he couldn’t have picked up my inner thoughts.

Gwanchang quickly brushed away the doubt. Was I being overly sensitive?

The popular stars even made Gwanchang do typesetting work. While doing the typesetting work, Gwanchang judged Hopi to be a unique friend. Although he was a very cruel murderer, unexpectedly, he had a mischievous streak. He had added sound effects or lines to the manuscript that the round-glasses person hadn’t even written in the storyboard, and every single one of them was eccentric and playful.

The door swung open and another person entered. It was a military officer with a tall height and a solid physique. Entering the quarters with a tired expression, he flinched upon seeing Gwanchang.

“A… a snake?”

“He’s fluent in East-dialect octopus. They brought him, saying to use him as a substitute until the successor arrives because the interpreter died. Why are you so late?”

When the round-glasses person asked, the military officer took off his uniform top and sat next to Hopi. His impression was genial and upright, but a deep hostility lingered in the gaze looking at Gwanchang.

“I can’t talk in front of a snake.”

“As expected of our special secretary. Don’t mind that guy, he’ll be offered to the sacrificial table soon anyway. Hey, you help with the ink-filling too.”

The round-glasses person handed the manuscript to the military officer. Propaganda leaflet work continued in a quiet atmosphere. After an hour, the military officer packed his uniform top and stood up.

“I have night duty. See you in the morning. Hopi, is there anything you need?”

“A cup of coffee for me.”

The round-glasses person answered briskly. Hopi wielded his penholder without a word.

“I’ll bring coffee, snacks, and a few other things.”

The military officer waved one hand and left the quarters. Continuing work until midnight, they went to bed. Hopi went to sleep without even putting handcuffs on Gwanchang.

Around three in the morning, Gwanchang stood up. Before leaving the leaflet production shop, he grabbed the sword Hopi had hung on the wall.

The barracks were quiet. Only red dust drifted bleakly in the wind brushing past the clear night sky. Not a single light blinked anywhere in the barracks. In a situation where even night sentries were not visible, Gwanchang was inwardly startled. This was a point in time when a million-strong army was camped right in front of them. Yet it was simply absurd that this situation lacked even night sentries at the station of the elite unit tasked with the vanguard.

What could Lee Hwa’s underlying motive be?

There was only one answer. Lee Hwa had foreseen that there would be no surprise attack tonight, and ordered overworked (!) subordinates to rest. The moment his thoughts reached this point, Gwanchang was clearly convinced.

Lee Hwa is nearby.

Perhaps he is in this unit. No, he is in this unit.

Gwanchang moved his steps cautiously. Plum trees diffused a pungent scent from various places in the barracks. They were definitely trees planted for landscaping purposes, not naturally grown trees. At that sight, Gwanchang unconsciously harbored doubts. Why are there so many plum trees here?

Soon, Gwanchang pushed aside the doubt and shook his head. How truly arrogant.

You planted plum trees everywhere in the vanguard unit’s barracks and even did landscaping? You meticulously look after your subordinates’ rest using foresight?