Chapter 97
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: Past (6), Psychological Treatment (2)
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#Past (6), Psychological Treatment (2)
On the appointed date and at the appointed time. The repeated meetings between the woman and the boy were gradually becoming routine for both of them. An ordinary promise with no burdens or reasons to dislike it.
The woman was still Song Sua. She had grown accustomed to her other name. At first, she thought it was just acting, but increasingly, it wasn't. There were no suspicions or interrogations from the boy. Times that required no artificial pretense. They felt more comfortable than using her real name. When meeting the boy, she could focus entirely on him. She could forget reality.
Their conversations had become natural now. The result of spending time getting used to each other. They would occasionally speak, listen to responses, and otherwise accept the quiet space of each other's presence.
The boy, Han Gyeowol—Winter—was calm and composed in every word he spoke. He didn't curse his misfortune or wail. The woman felt relieved by this. At the same time, it saddened her. Winter's maturity didn't feel natural.
That maturity kept intriguing her. Winter had never once said that things were hard now.
Was he still hiding his true feelings? How many more meetings would it take to eliminate the filters? The woman asked gently.
"Winter. How have you been lately?"
The boy, who had been reading someone's biography, lifted his head to look at the psychological therapist. He pressed down on both pages with his fingertips, blinking quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"In the early stages of post-life insurance activation, many subscribers report various maladaptations. For example... right, they struggle with their attitude toward artificial intelligence, finding it hard to make decisions. They can't shake the thought that it's not human, making it unbearable. A kind of obsessive symptom. The result is interpersonal avoidance within the virtual reality worldview. It's a common maladaptation for most people."
She wasn't fabricating this just to pry into his thoughts. Her identity was fake, but she was genuinely involved with the post-life insurance. The reports she handled were more detailed than those submitted to the government. The symptoms she mentioned were psychological hurdles that every insured person passed through, varying in severity.
'Some never overcome it in the end.'
She hoped the boy would be different. He had already suffered enough misfortune in life.
So she asked.
"How about you? Are you feeling confused at all?"
"......"
The answer didn't come right away.
The issue the woman mentioned was easier to overcome for those with high TOM ratings and aptitudes. But it wasn't always the case. The core problem was the world that didn't exist in reality.
High empathy meant rich sensitivity. The boy was still at an age where his sense of self wasn't fully solid. Judging by an adult's standards—who had long stopped asking "Who am I? What am I?"—would be unfair.
"I'm fine."
The boy's short answer finally came. It wasn't enough for the woman. How many meanings had flashed through that silence before he spoke? More time was needed. The woman concealed a small sigh.
But the perceptive boy didn't miss it. He formed a familiar smile.
"You don't believe me."
"Huh? No, that's not it......"
Before her flustered evasion, Winter closed the book completely. Then, using the "Lobby" environment creation function, he made a flower bloom in midair. He selected the species and color. The result was a rose in a rare hue. Grasping the stem to avoid the thorns, he gazed at the flower, lost in thought for a moment.
Soon, the boy asked the psychological therapist.
"What color does this flower look to you?"
"......It's green."
"Yes. Green. But teacher, are you and I seeing the same green right now?"
The woman was flustered. She couldn't grasp the meaning of the question.
"What do you mean?"
Winter recalled his life before death. In an old memory, the boy was staring blankly at a broken piece of green crayon.
"When I was little, I thought about this. Even if it's the same green, maybe each person sees it differently? Maybe everyone feels different color sensations, but since we're taught it's green and grow up that way, we mistakenly think others see the same as us?"
"That must have been a very difficult worry."
"Yes. It was an endless question. All I can know is what I can feel. Other people were always beyond that. I couldn't reach them. No matter how hard I tried."
The woman thought she understood. Why the boy brought this up. It was a familiar concept with an unfamiliar beginning.
"If you have no way to know the difference, does that mean artificial intelligence is the same as people?"
"I wanted to say that the important thing is my own mindset...... People are social animals, right? Depending on how I relate, the other could be a person or not to me. Regardless of whether it's actually human or AI."
"So you're saying you'll decide actively?"
"I want to. In my previous life, I wasn't treated as human."
"......"
Winter quietly took in the psychological therapist's agitation with his eyes. Then he apologized.
"I'm sorry. I said something weird."
"No, no. It seems like something bad happened."
The woman pondered. The boy's words could be interpreted harshly depending on the lens.
'Are there people he doesn't want to treat as human?'
It might be a shallow sentiment, like a thief's guilty conscience. But even the composed boy must harbor anger. Resentment toward those who didn't see him as human. Even though there was no reason for that resentment to turn toward her, the woman had once worried about it.
Not anymore. The boy's character didn't seem capable of that.
Winter formed another smile.
"Anyway, you don't need to worry about my adjustment. There weren't many people in the outside world I lived in before anyway. My heart feels more at ease now. I miss the two I always wanted to see, but it's not like I can't meet them at all. They say even the most cherished siblings become hard to see as you age...... I'll just think of it as experiencing that a bit earlier."
The woman tried to discern truth from falsehood in the boy's words.
It wasn't easy.
#Rainy Morning, Lake Santa Margarita
Jeffrey offered a hopeful observation.
"The raindrops have gotten quite thin. The wind has weakened a lot too. After tormenting us all night, at least the weather has a rat-tail's worth of conscience. An frontline control aircraft might take off after dawn. Fort Roberts will probably request air reconnaissance too. Anyway, hasn't the minimum operation time already passed?"
If the mission had proceeded without variables, the troops would already have returned to base. Winter replied.
"I hope so. Even if the baby is born safely, it's still a problem."
"Yeah, well...... With the mother in that state, the baby won't be healthy. It's hard to prepare warming measures, and transporting it alive to base won't be easy."
The two were sheltering from the rain under the eaves, where droplets still fell steadily. Winter recalled the National Typhoon Center's warning. It seemed they were in the gap between typhoons now. Even that small gap was a precious opportunity for people at their limit.
Jeffrey removed his helmet and irritably scratched his matted hair.
"I'm just spouting low-probability nonsense. The mother and child surviving is already a miracle, and now we're hoping for the luck of timely air reconnaissance on top of that."
"In Northeast Asia, they have a saying for this. Do everything you can, and leave the rest to heaven. We've done our best. I don't think we'll be punished for hoping for miracles and luck too."
"Pah, who knows. The Almighty up there has been awfully vicious lately. Isn't the state of this world proof? That's why we're in this mess."
Lamenting their fate, Jeffrey rummaged in his pocket. He was looking for cigarettes. But it was pitiful—one salvaged after discarding a whole pack. He even had to tear off the waterlogged end. Now searching for a light, Jeffrey. Winter pulled out his Zippo lighter. A clear metallic ting. Flint struck, and it lit easily.
"Where'd you get this?"
"I got it in Santa Maria."
Winter showed the inside of the lid. Where John Frey had engraved the phrase himself. Jeffrey inhaled deeply, lighting it, read the single line, and grumbled again.
"Rangers lead the way, J.E.F. Such pride. But compared to these guys, I'm a payroll thief, so I can't say much."
Jeffrey habitually shielded the cigarette flame. Surrounded by forest on all sides, ridgeline to the east, dam to the north—but caution never hurt.
The quickly burning cigarette was an indicator of Jeffrey's fraying nerves.
"Since it's come to this, I hope that kid makes it into the world. Then these damn guys can get some heaven points. It'd be a little comfort to the remaining family too."
The platoon leader's "damn guys" lay side by side in the nearby rain. Winter had ordered the bodies moved outside the building. The offices were filled with humid air from ten mouths, raising concerns of decomposition. The weakened mother's psychological state was a worry too.
Winter's response.
"Waiting is really tough, huh?"
"Damned tough. The one giving birth has it worst, but hey, I fought risking my life, so I've got some ground to stand on. Shit, it's already making me scared of marriage."
Over two hours had passed since Winter returned with Hernandez's squad. But the difficult labor warned by medic White was still ongoing.
Soldiers out in the rain despite rest caught the eye. Winter called one familiar face.
"Elliot! Wouldn't it be better to go in and rest? Close your eyes for a bit if you can."
The sergeant looked extremely fatigued but shook his head.
"I flinch at the sound of fireworks. Think I can sleep hearing groans?"
Veteran soldiers all carried aftereffects, big or small. Countless couldn't sleep without meds.
The weakened mother's cries were feeble. Intermittent. The soldiers braving the cold wind outside could barely endure even that.
More than twenty men awaited the birth with wide eyes.
Jeffrey flicked his filter-burned cigarette into the pooled water.
"I miss my bed. Last year, on a holiday like this, I wouldn't have left it. Slept all day. Outside the blanket is dangerous."
"Holiday...... What day is it today?"
"Korematsu Day, isn't it? You're not fully American yet."
Hearing this, Sergeant Lieberman rebuked him.
"What do you mean 'American' with a national holiday? Patriotism is the mark of an American citizen."
"Ah, sure."
The trivial exchange ended there. No more conversation followed. Everyone was exhausted. Even joking to lighten the mood was laborious.
All endured the time in silence.
Kraaang! Lightning struck the hilltop. Dawn was breaking over the clouds. The struck tree glowed green and burned briefly. The embers didn't survive long under the rain clouds.
Winter thought.
'Air reconnaissance might be hard to hope for......'
Even if rain lessened and wind weakened, lightning made flying military aircraft tricky. Risk of onboard munitions exploding. Unarmed would be safe, but.
The cry of a newborn baby rang out.
Jeffrey, arms crossed against the cold, snapped his head up. His eyes met Winter's. Then he burst through the door. When Winter followed, medic White was lifting the newborn.
The mother wore a faint smile on her pale face. Jeffrey asked in ecstasy.
"Hey, Doc! Is it over? It's over, right? It's done!"
The on-edge medic snapped back rapidly.
"Lieutenant, stay still. It's not over. Placenta and cord are coming. Mother needs rest. Noise won't help. And if the baby cries? It's already weak—what'll you do? Take responsibility if something goes wrong?"
"......Got it? Sorry."
The rebuked lieutenant shrank obediently.
The husband sat limply collapsed. He just stared blankly as the cord was cut and placenta handled. Seemed no energy left even for joy.
The mother had a fever anyway, but the medic wanted the baby separated from father and mother. Wrapped in a field dressing, combat uniform, and poncho instead of swaddling. Whether sufficient was questionable. But it was the best. The medic nagged again.
"Any heat packs left? Get food ready now. Can't make the baby's birthday the parents' funeral."
In this moment, White's authority outranked Winter's.
Amid the bustle, news came from the radioman outside with the antenna.
[Sir. Come here a moment. Contacted the frontline control aircraft.]
"......"
Jeffrey, frozen stiff, began praying. God, next time I see you, just once... Message over platoon net, so all soldiers heard. Uniform reaction: sighs, leaning somewhere.
There were miracles and luck.
Sometimes days like this happened.
============================ Author's Note ============================
#Innocence and Peace
Reading the last chapter's comments depleted the author's innocence once more.
Everyone. For some, chat parts might feel like noise or boring. That's personal taste.
Exchanging opinions on that is fine. But it shouldn't become demands or criticism.
As I've said before. Opinions can differ.
We must respect opinions raised while upholding what should be upheld.
Please cultivate proper innocence, all.
#Original Artist
The original artist who was to handle illustrations for the print edition has suffered a sudden bereavement of his father.
The editor asked if I had any personal preference for an artist, but this ignorant author knows none...
If any readers know artists, please let me know.
#Celebrity
Sorry for so many notes. The cover is planned in photorealistic style, but picking a real person with similar image would help a lot.
So the editor asked again, but this ignorant author knows no celebrities...
I don't even watch TV to begin with... ㅠㅠ
I'll take reader opinions on this too.
Note got long and author feels like dying, so skipping Q&A. Good night.