The Companion I
Let's talk about Dang Seo-rin, the guild leader of Samcheon World.
"There's venom in those eyes."
"..."
"So you're the one, right? The lone survivor of Busan Station. You're that weirdo who goes around asking people strange questions all the time."
I first met Dang Seo-rin in my fourth run.
Regrettably, I had not yet acquired the [Complete Memory] ability—that came in the fifth run. Thus, there might be some inaccuracies in my recollection of our first meeting.
No. I'd rather not admit it, but there are absolutely errors. It's a past that's already more than a millennium old, after all.
"Your name?"
"...Undertaker. It's an alias."
"You bury people? Not bad. The depth of a person is determined by how many corpses they have buried in their heart."
Perhaps Dang Seo-rin didn't say "venom in those eyes" but "fire in those eyes." She might have used "your" instead of "those." It might have rained that day, or not. I think I heard the sound of water, but perhaps it was just the sound flowing from my heart. Nevertheless, I can vividly recall the atmosphere from that time, and the contours of its air.
To live, one must breathe not only the oxygen drifting before one's eyes but also the air from the past that has already flowed by.
"How about it? Won't you join our guild?"
"What's the guild's name?"
"Samcheon World, or just Samcheon for short. It's my personal ambition to someday recruit three thousand Awakeners.[1] Undertaker, I need your strength to subdue the Ten Legs."
The person who made up a fair share of my breaths smiled and extended their hand.
At that time, I had no reason or leeway not to take it.
"Oh, by the way, everyone in our guild must wear a cone hat wherever they go."
"...A cone hat?"
"Yeah, you know, the hats witches wear in fairy tales? That's our guild symbol. You have to carry a broomstick too. You haven't eaten lunch yet, right? I know a great place. I'll take you there to celebrate you joining us."
"I withdraw my application."
It was irrevocable.
Exchanging the broomstick for a sword later on was the best I could do.
Dang Seo-rin was cunning and stubborn, and she knew the local eateries well. People called her the Witch of the Train Station and the Witch of the Cursed Song.
…Though in hindsight, maybe I was the only one who called her by that last name.
Of course, there was another nickname that I used more often for her.
Why hide it?
She was once the guild leader to me.
Looking back now, it might seem like a bit of an outdated joke, but in the very early days of my regressor life—say, around the 10th run—there was a boss monster that stood like the Wailing Wall, blocking the path of all Korean Awakeners.
"Wait. What is that?"
"Oh, oh no... it's coming this way!"
Ten Legs.
According to the classification system established by a wiki group called the Library Association, this monster was a polis-class hazard. Its identifier was 'Crawling Cthulhu'.
"Crazy! How can it move so fast?"
"It's Cthulhu! It's Cthulhu!"
"What the fuck...? Sound the alarm! Sound the alarm, dammit!"
Opinions were divided on how Ten Legs came to be known as such. Where there should have been legs, there weren't any, and instead, hundreds of tentacles waved like human arms—hence the name. Personally, though, I subscribe to the theory that 'those fucking pieces of shit' somehow morphed into 'Ten Legs'.
That first boss monster of the Korean peninsula brought us great despair.
"We need to capture it to reclaim everything south of the Han River and push the two-front battle into a ceasefire."
Dang Seo-rin, however, did not despair. Not only that, she also rallied the despairing Awakeners into a guild alliance and was promoted to its leader.
Let's call it the Anti-Ten Legs Coalition.
What made it different from the Anti-Dong Zhuo Coalition in Romance of the Three Kingdoms was that unlike Yuan Shao, Dang Seo-rin was exceedingly competent.
"Undertaker, you will lead the elite of other guilds at the front and stall Ten Legs as long as possible."
"Understood."
After I learned about Old Man Scho, he took over leading the vanguard, but until then, I was regrettably the best we had. That should give you a sense of how lackluster the Awakeners were at the time.
Ah, by the way. When I was a member of Samcheon, I naturally spoke very respectfully to Dang Seo-rin.
"My deputy died yesterday, so I am a bit under the weather... But I will try. How many minutes should I hold out?"
"Hold out for just 30 minutes. I will set up an archmagic spell to back up the suicide squad."
"Understood," I said, nodding. "That sounds easy."
It was not.
-G̴̣̪̓r̴̛̰o̴̭͑̉ö̸̢̱́̑o̸̻̽͋u̶͎̟̍u̶͖̓u̵͓̒g̵̳͍̾ḣ̷̥̖͘!̴̮̻͐͒
The Ten Legs roared.
Within exactly two minutes of the combat starting, one of its tentacles had bored another hole in my head. What's there to do? If an expressway is laid right through the middle of the brain, even a regressor has to die gracefully.
I did well to last those two minutes. Other Awakeners were harvested almost instantaneously. Had any autumn farmers seen it, they would have drooled over its scythe skills. I managed to hold out until the end with Dang Seo-rin until I ultimately became just another head of grain.
Fourth run over.
Fifth run start.
"Undertaker, you will lead the elite of other guilds at the front and stall Ten Legs as long as possible."
"It's going to be damn difficult."
This time, instead of putting on bravado in front of my guild leader, I decided to be more honest.
Dang Seo-rin's eyes widened. "Difficult?"
"Yes."
"I thought with the combined forces we currently have, plus you, we could manage to delay it. Is there something wrong with the data we collected?"
"The data isn't wrong. Ten Legs, that bastard, is hiding its strength."
It was disheartening to see how the world was turning out. The meta of power-hoarding should be my role as a regressor, but a damn boss mob was doing it.
"The legs it usually shows aren't all it has," I continued. "It can sprout more anytime from inside its body like tentacles. Honestly, even 5 minutes is tough, let alone 30."
"...Vice guild leader, if that's true, we might have to abandon the campaign entirely."
"Yes. Let's give up."
"Yeah. Let's do that. Should we run away to Busan?"
"Sounds good. It's a place of tradition and trust, isn't it?"
"With lots of good food?"
We retreated to Busan. It was a region that could sufficiently satisfy Dang Seo-rin's palette, which always sought out local eateries first. It was originally our guild's home base anyway.
The problem was that Ten Legs wasn't just stuck to a Gate but roamed freely, a truly liberated spirit. Not unlike Dang Seo-rin, it toured various regions seeking out local flavors. Its menu consisted of one particular item: human meat.
After laying waste to Seoul, it zigzagged across the country, proving itself to be a solo-travel foodie who could have appeared on a culinary show.
This creature originally targeted areas densely packed with humans. Apparently, it could sense human life. Thanks to that, the cities of the Korean peninsula were devastated, and Ten Legs achieved a feat no politician had ever accomplished.
It took just five years.
-G̴̱̬̊r̵̻̘̊̕o̶̹͛͠o̷̫̿o̷̡͒͝ũ̵̖̊ủ̷̯̱ư̶̜͚͗ǵ̶̺h̵̺̰̿̈!̴̟̍
The Ten Legs roared.
"Fuck this."
We built our final line of defense at the Nakdong River, and in harmony, became Awakeners roasted on skewers. Even if we had given up on subduing it, as long as Ten Legs was alive, we were all merely living on borrowed time.
Fifth run over.
Sixth run start.
"Is there… really no answer to this?"
The fifth run ended in annihilation by Ten Legs, but looking at my entire life as a regressor, the run was tremendously significant. It was the one in which I acquired the [Complete Memory] ability. From that point on, I knew exactly what I had been thinking then, who I had met, and what conversations we'd had.
"Vice guild leader, do you have a moment?"
"Hm? What is it?"
Just as I was brooding over how the world was messing with humanity, the breakthrough came from an unexpected corner.
A guild member with pretty silver hair opened the sliding door of the KTX train and said, "A guest from outside has come to see you, vice guild leader."[2] It was Yu Ji-won, a talent I had scouted from the fifth run to serve as my deputy. She had quite a crazy psychopath streak.
But let's get into that later.
"An outsider guest? Where are they?"
"He's come all the way to our train platform."
"What? What's the security team doing?"
"They tried to stop him, but the guest was too strong for them. Keeping him waiting at the platform was the best they could manage."
"Hmm."
Why were we discussing this on a KTX train, you ask? Well... Samcheon World's base of operations was always on a train.
It wasn't because the members of Samcheon, including myself, found metaphysical beauty in a heap of immovable scrap metal. We were not railroad otakus.
No, it was entirely due to our boss, Her Highness Dang Seo-rin, and her taste. Dang Seo-rin had a peculiar habit of taking the most-intact luxury train and making it her base every time she moved the guild to a different region. In her own words, "Doesn't it have a certain charm, staying on a train as a witch?"
As you can tell from her wearing a cone hat, her mind was not exactly normal.
Anyway, back to the main story.
"So, what's the guest's name?"
"Yes, his name is... Emit... Schopenhawer? Ah, Schopenhauer."
Crackle.
My deputy tilted her head at the noise from the radio.
"He sounds like he's German?"
Emit Schopenhauer.
Swordmaster. Sword Star.
A man cloaked in many a nickname and who had sliced more monster heads still.
But to me, he was simply known as Old Man Scho.
"Um... hello?" I greeted in English before returning to Korean. "What brings you here?"
Old Man Scho looked at me in silence.
Honestly, my first impression was, He seems like a nasty character. It was still only the sixth run.
A German old man who had followed his wife to Korea only to get caught up in the Gate crisis. He hadn't learned Korean, so he tried to communicate using a mix of English, body language, and a smartphone translator.
If I had only been good at English, communication wouldn't have been an issue, but unfortunately, I had no talent for languages.
"Fucking monster."
"Fucking monster...You mean Ten Legs? The Lurker? Tentacles, flapping around?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Sorry, I can't speak English."
Old Man Scho grimaced, open frustration marring his expression as he let out a halting Korean. "Strategy. Different."
"...?"
"You died in past. Here."
In that KTX dining car, used as our guild's reception room, a map of South Korea was spread out on the table.
Thud. Old Man Scho pointed his finger at the center of that map.
The line from Seoul to Gwacheon. It was the place where I tried to beat Ten Legs without knowing anything but got beaten instead back in the fourth run.
"But you not die."
Fwish. Old Man Scho's finger pointed downwards, precisely indicating the Nakdong River.
"...!"
"Five years. Too big a difference."
Old Man Scho's grey gaze was directed straight at me.
Perhaps... No, surely not?
My heart thudded in my chest. We looked into each other's eyes across the table for a long time and realized that the flow of time was the same for both of us.
Old Man Scho's mouth slowly opened. "Return?"
Even though I could barely understand what he said, there was no way I could mistake the intent behind that question.
Wordlessly, I drew a number on the table with my finger.
Old Man Scho's expression finally relaxed and he smiled. It was the number of times he too had repeated his life.
Perhaps in consideration of my inability to understand English, Old Man Scho kept his sentences short. The old German swordsman knew how to convey emotions succinctly.
"My friend."
With Old Man Scho's joining, the dynamics on the battlefield changed.
If you asked me to name the most powerful Awakener among all I knew, every time, I invoke Old Man Scho. He was not merely a rocket of power, for even to this day, after more than 1000 runs, I would evaluate Old Man Scho's potential as insane.
"Are you sure we should put this man on the front line?"
"Yes, guild leader. I'm certain."
"Hmm. Doesn't look that reliable just from his appearance, but if my vice guild leader insists so strongly... Guess we should test his skills, right?"
"Certainly."
Fifty minutes later.
"Make this man a key player in this campaign immediately."
Again, Dang Seo-rin was a competent leader.
Even amidst the chaos of notable Awakeners being carried out on stretchers, she was completely unperturbed. She even went as far as to hire an interpreter to stick by Old Man Scho's side.
"Interpreter, could you ask him what he thinks about cone hats?"
It wasn't long before the interpreter's expression darkened. "I'm very sorry, ma'am, but he says he has no interest in joining the guild. He prefers to travel alone."
"Really? That's a shame. But did he just say 'Alohomora?' Did I hear that wrong?"
"Oh, I think he might have made a joke there, but I didn't catch it. Sorry, haha."
"That happens. Vice guild leader, isn't there a good pork soup place nearby? Germans like soup, right?"
"As long as it doesn't have turnips in it, he'd probably eat it."
I saw it. The interpreter beside me definitely cracked a smile.
He was indeed a wise man.
Back then, I didn't understand German, so I just let it go, but actually, Old Man Scho's remark was, "What kind of stupid shit is that? You mean that Harry Potter knock-off hat you wear? If I stay any longer, you'll probably start keeping owls too, huh? Alohomora, you moron![3] Even my dog wouldn't wear that."
And for the record, I agreed with him.
From the seventh run, I decided not to join the Samcheon Guild and instead began moving around with Old Man Scho, primarily because of those ridiculous cone hats. That fashion sense... Well, it wasn't even fashion. The only person who could pull off a witch cosplay was Dang Seo-rin.
It was as natural as natural could be.
Dang Seo-rin wasn't just playing witch; she was a grand sorceress and a multi-talented Awakener who genuinely claimed to be a witch.
"Undertaker, Sword Star. I need you to hold out for 25 minutes… No, make it 30."
South of the Han River was a cursed land where countless civilians evaporated in an instant, unaware of their fate.
There, a total of fifteen hundred Awakeners assembled, including Old Man Scho and guild leader Dang Seo-rin. If you included the military units and civilian volunteers, the number was even larger.
We stood on the front line, where almost all available forces in Korea were concentrated.
-G̶̲̈ͅr̶͚̮͝o̷̺̳͠͠o̸͓̙̿̚o̸̟̖̍u̵̗̗͂ú̴̞̩u̴͖̓͠g̶̖̹̃h̸̤̥͑̈́!̷̝̔͛
The familiar roar rang out.
In the distance, the massive body of Ten Legs began to reveal itself. The horizon trembled. Buildings turned to ruins, unable to withstand the creature's thrashing and crumbling like dry reeds.
"Twenty-five minutes. Can you hold out?"
"It will be difficult," I said on behalf of the strike team. However, there was a key difference from previous cycles. Now, I could add something more to my statement. "But we can manage it."
Dang Seo-rin nodded. "After this, let's go find some good places to eat. By the way, what's the signature dish of Seoul, anyway?"
"Hmm, I'm not sure there's anything particularly famous."
"Really?" Dang Seo-rin hummed, staring at the horizon. Tentacles resembling human arms writhed in abundance. "After today, it'll probably be octopus sashimi."
"Ah, marinated octopus isn't bad."
"Right? All troops, to your battle stations. Today, we reclaim Seoul."
Battle commencing.
Footnotes:
[1] Samcheon means 'Three Thousand' in Korean.
[2] KTX trains are the subway trains of Korea.
[3] Alohomora, or the Unlocking Charm, is one of the most widely used spells in the fantasy series Harry Potter.
-x-X-x-
Chapter 19
──────
The Companion II
-G̸̨͠r̷̠̐ǫ̶̀ȍ̵̧͇͠ȯ̵͌ͅo̴̮̕ú̵͈͓̇u̸̡̇̍ū̷̼̏u̷̬͑͐g̴͙̿ẖ̶̘̀̈́!̷̝̜̈́̕
The Ten Legs monster advanced toward us ferociously. Each step it took with its countless tentacle-like legs sent a trembling shockwave through the ground, making Old Man Scho and I bounce up and down in continuous waves.
Technically, the Ten Legs wasn't really stepping. Upon enhancing my sight and looking closely, the creature was actually walking on numerous hands.
Or something resembling human arms with hands.
With each step taken by its thousands—if not tens of thousands—of arms, chunks of red flesh and blood splattered everywhere. Bones snapped and joints broke, but it seemed to make no difference to the creature, as new arms regenerated incessantly where old ones were severed.
A long trail lay behind the Ten Legs in a red carpet of bloodstained handprints as it approached. This giant red carpet was symbolic of the Ten Legs. That's why it was referred to as the Red Carpet even abroad as well.
I muttered, "This one's a real superstar."
"Ready?" Old Man Scho asked in his awkward Korean. By then, everyone in the vanguard, including me, had already drawn their weapons.
I glanced at my adjutant, Yu Ji-won, who nodded while studying a map spread out on the table. It was a signal that all preparations were complete.
I nodded back. "Yes. Let's finish this quickly and go eat."
I was the first to step forward.
Six hundred of our squadron followed.
While not as imposing as the crawling steps of the Ten Legs, the six hundred footsteps laden with the weight of life and death vibrated the earth with considerable force.
At that moment.
"――Ah――"
A song erupted from behind us.
It came from Dang Seo-rin, the guild leader of Samcheon, the leader of the Korean guild alliance, and the one commonly known as the Witch of the Train Station due to her peculiar taste for her ceaseless roaming around train stations. And yet, beyond her role as leader, Dang Seo-rin's true nature as an Awakener on the battlefield was something else.
"――Ah――Ah―"
She was a witch who cast powerful spells by singing and reciting poems.
Cursed Song Incantation, the art of invoking spells through songs, was pioneered and solely utilized by her. She became a myth among those who had awakened magical abilities. Such was the battlefield Dang Seo-rin.
Despite her humility in claiming to be merely an imitator rather than a creator, her power was anything but modest.
"Ah―――Ah―――Ah"
Initially, Dang Seo-rin's voice began as a single thread but soon split into two, three, four strands, embroidering the devastated skies above Seoul in an a capella fugue, composed solely of her voice.
The principle behind the Cursed Song magic developed by Dang Seo-rin was simple. It began with repetition magic, which functioned like a recorder. The spell itself was basic, merely repeating and replaying the spellcaster's incantations on loop, yet it was in this unremarkable magic that Dang Seo-rin saw potential.
First, she allowed the repetition magic to resonate in echoing swells through the air. At the core of this, she would overlay a completely new enchantment. The repetition magic would then start to play black the new part as well.
First melody, repetition.
Second melody, amplification.
Third melody, reflex enhancement.
As the battle reached its sixth minute, the third melody began to envelop hundreds of our fighters.
Even those who were nearly dismembered or beheaded by the monster's tentacles managed to block them once, twice, even ten times.
"―Ah――Ah――"
"Ah―――Ah―――Ah"
"――Ah――"
Dang Seo-rin's melodies had no intention of ending there.
Just as the fourth melody was about to begin and charge the air, the Ten Legs, sensing something amiss, turned around. Realizing it had been deliberately lured here, it attempted to flee without hesitation. Its massive body twisted instantly, flinging nearby Awakeners in all directions.
"Emit!"
"O-nya!"
Old Man Scho, who had learned o-nya before any other Korean phrase, drew his sword and charged. Seeing him in action truly put the heart at ease—even I felt an involuntary sense of relief.
But it was a feint. That damn clever monster had planned ahead and planted six of its tentacles underground. As Old Man Scho charged, spikes sprouted from the ground, puncturing his body with tidy holes.
A cloud of blood poured down. Instant death.
"Damn it!"
Dang Seo-rin's magical incantation ended abruptly before reaching the fifth melody. Our squad was breached, our defensive line collapsed, and the core of our operation—Dang Seo-rin—fell to her knees, her body riddled with holes.
The last thing I saw was the Ten Legs setting up a skewer grill shop across the plain. The Red Carpet was merely a decorative piece inviting guests into its establishment.
Sixth run over.
Seventh run start. Again.
"Emit!"
"O-nya!"
O-nya was truly a mysterious Korean word. It could mean "yes," "I know, you bastard," and "stop nagging me" all at once. Old Man Scho, Swordmaster that he was, swept the ground with his sword energy while embedding all these meanings into that one word.
-G̴̗̃̀r̵͖̿o̵̡͉̔̕ò̴̳̭͆o̸͎̅͝o̴͑͜ȗ̶̫̥͋u̴̮͕͂ṵ̵̘̾̾ù̶̢̫̊g̶̻̟̍ẖ̴̗͒!̴̥̩̿͝
The spikes lurking underground were severed in an instant.
The false retreat was seen through. The Ten Legs, enraged, harvested the lives of humans with its limbs that resembled human arms with hands.
The songs in the air, however, could not be harvested.
"Ah――Ah――Ah―――Ah"
The melody continued. It layered. It resonated.
Every time her a capella symphony embraced another note, we had to sacrifice another life.
Seventh run over. Eighth run start. Eighth run over. Ninth run start.
Forever repeating this neverending da capo, Old Man Scho and I charged. We rushed in, and the Ten Legs countered our sword strikes.
In an instant, the bulk of the Ten Legs swelled up like a balloon. The tentacles it had revealed so far were merely a taste of what this monster harbored within, as thousands of spikes burst forth from its body.
The ninth run, over.
"――Ah――"
The tenth run, start.
Forever repeating this neverending da capo, Old Man Scho and I charged. We rushed in, and the Ten Legs countered our sword strikes. Before it could swell up again, we dove into the midst of the Ten Legs.
-G̷̨͠r̵̠̟̕͠õ̵͚̙o̴͈̭̿o̶̻͜͠ŏ̴̡̳ŭ̵̘̩̐ú̷̼̬͐u̶̜͔̍ȗ̷̫̇g̸͎͗͜h̵̠͋!̷̧̆͝
Old Man Scho from the left, and I from the right.
Within the repeating spiral of cycles, I lived not as the vice-guild leader of Samcheon but as a direct disciple of Old Man Scho. What might have been the repeated section for the monster was not the same for me. Every time our story advanced by a beat, so too did the series of Dang Seo-rin's song length by another novel.
First melody, repetition.
Second melody, amplification.
Third melody, reflex enhancement.
Fourth melody, weapon strength enhancement.
Fifth melody, stamina recovery.
Sixth melody, mental awakening.
An aria of soul consolation was chanted to the grey skies.
The 1st squadron swapped places with the 2nd squadron, and the injured continuously retreated. Nevertheless, neither Dang Seo-rin nor I took a single step back from the front line.
We were all sacrificing our lives.
By the time the sixth melody was repeating, her song had changed. Until then, it had been protecting us. Now, the melody suddenly sprang forward, attacking the Ten Legs.
Like red spikes.
Seventh melody, weakening curse.
Eighth melody, darkness curse.
Ninth melody, sensory inhibition curse.
The massive body of the Ten Legs numbed. As the monster swung its arms, felled buildings tumbled down. Perhaps it was a mere flinch.
"Old Man!"
"I know, damn it!"
We clung to it relentlessly.
My term of address for Old Man Scho changed, and so did the flavor of his responses in Korean. Now, without saying a word, Old Man Scho and I perfectly timed our slashes to sever the tentacles of the Ten Legs.
The Ten Legs fought back against our sword strikes, but to no avail. New tentacles sprouted more slowly, and our blades cut through the arms of the Ten Legs more swiftly.
Though the creature stepped forward with thousands of arms, it was but a single step. We always ran two steps for every one of its.
And so.
"Ah―――Ah―――Ah"
"Ah――Ah――Ah―――Ah"
"―Ah――Ah――"
"――Ah――"
Tenth melody, petrification curse.
The curse would be rendered pointless in the face of constantly regenerating tentacles, but against a Ten Legs with so few spikes remaining, it was a lethal blow.
Dozens of spikes aiming for Old Man Scho and me turned to stone all at once. Of course, it was just a momentary pause. If even three seconds, no, just five seconds passed, new tentacles would sprout and attempt to impale us.
To give us those three seconds, Dang Seo-rin kept singing.
We swung our swords.
Where all the tentacles had vanished appeared to us the Ten Legs' two eyeballs, which also served as its hearts. Destroying one heart was pointless as the other would immediately regenerate it, bestowing the Ten Legs with virtually eternal life.
"Arrrrgh!"
Old Man Scho and I screamed as we charged.
Our cries were not bizarre like the roars of the Ten Legs, nor were they as beautiful as Dang Seo-rin's chanting. The duet of the two regressors was discordant. If it were a song, it would be off-key to the extreme.
Yet somehow—and perhaps it was just a feeling—it seemed like our hoarse screams momentarily matched the aria of Dang Seo-rin.
A mere coincidence of harmonizing discord.
-G̸̢̰͂r̸̗͈͘o̶̻͚̫͊ǫ̴̰̈́̉ȯ̶̻̎̓ö̶̧͖̒ụ̴͔̆͗̕u̶̘̗͓̐ṵ̸͈̀̓̚ȕ̸̺̬͝g̶͖̉̔͗ĥ̴̡̬̳̆!̶̨̞͖͝
Until there was only one source of dissonance left in this world.
That noise, the heartbeat of the monster, the source of the vibration—we both thrust our swords toward it simultaneously.
Blood splattered.
Old Man Scho's sword tip pierced the left eyeball-heart, and my blade slashed the right eyeball-heart.
-――――――!!
A scream erupted.
Blood spurted as countless tentacles began to stretch out from the Ten Legs' body. The tips of the tentacles loomed right in front of us. Yet, I did not fear being pierced. Instead, I thrust the tip of my sword even deeper into the eye-heart.
For a beat, the world was silent.
The tentacle paused just before it reached us. The human-ish arm spread its five fingers to their limits, as if seized by a convulsion.
One second passed, then two seconds.
As the music dwindled and the last lingering notes seemed to extend indefinitely, we too stood silently, swords embedded in the monster's heart as we watched the creature.
Then suddenly, I felt an irresistible urge to utter these words.
"Did we get it?"
Old Man Scho blanched. "Hey, you fool! If you say that now—!"
The five fingers of the Ten Legs exploded. Flesh tore, bursting open to spill forth red blood. Finger after finger, arm after arm, tentacle after countless tentacles burst and oozed.
There was no turning back.
The monster that had wandered the red paths of this world for so long drowned itself in a pool of red.
"..."
Old Man Scho, newly drenched in blood, looked at the ground with a dazed stare, then at me, before finally turning to look behind us.
The moment we turned around, a roar louder than any earthquake created by the Ten Legs shook the heavens.
Hundreds had died, but still, thousands survived. With fists clenched and arms clutching the people around them in a hug, they ran toward us. They grabbed my head and tore my shirt. Laughter mingled with cries.
"We did it! We actually did it!"
Even Old Man Scho, who had never spoken such words before, threw his arms around me, sobbing.
"Ah, doc! Thank you! It's all thanks to you! I couldn't have made it this far alone!"
It was something Old Man Scho would normally never say.
I, too, was moved and blurted out something similar, but I won't describe precisely what—it's not my hobby to document my own cringey moments.
[The Saintess of National Salvation blesses your victory.]
[The Monarch of the Crimson Horse shows interest in your bravery.]
[The Conqueror of the Alps marvels at your feat.]
At that time, the identity of the Saintess was still unknown in the cycles. Just like others, I was able to receive the Constellations' congratulations with naivety.
After a round of frenzy had passed, the leading commander of this operation, Dang Seo-rin, slowly approached me at last.
"Can't believe I pulled off the tenth melody."
Perhaps because she sang too passionately, her voice was hoarse. She looked happy yet somewhat embarrassed as she smiled.
"Amazing," she marveled. "I never thought we'd actually win."
"How long did we hold out?"
"Forty-one minutes."
Dang Seo-rin's forehead was drenched with sweat. Her hair was disheveled, sticking to her face, yet it was relatively tame compared to what could have happened.
Especially considering the endings she faced in the fourth to the ninth cycles.
"We finally reclaimed Seoul."
"Well, south of the Han River, to be precise."
"Always used to be the most expensive part of town, right? Good for us. Now we're land-rich."
Despite achieving a colossal feat just then, Dang Seo-rin's tone was as casual as if she were just on a stroll. Her cheekiness made me chuckle.
"Now it's the worst land in Korea, though," I teased.
"Hmm. You hungry? Any injuries? If not, let's go grab some food."
That's when Old Man Scho chimed in.
"What's on the menu? Octopus sashimi? I can't eat that."
The embarrassed old man who had blurted out cheesy lines earlier was nowhere to be seen now, replaced once again by the grumpy German curmudgeon he usually was.
"Geez. I just don't get why you guys boil that horrific-looking Cthulhu kraken."
"It's okay. I was just saying, I don't really like octopus sashimi that much either."
I was surprised. "Really? Is that so?"
"Yeah." Dang Seo-rin smiled brightly. "Actually, I prefer tacos with wasabi and a highball."
Aliases: Red Carpet. The Crimson Foodie.
A monster active south of the Han River. Solitary. Atypical behavior.
Civilian and military casualties estimated to be approximately 436,000. Estimated 950 Awakeners dead. Number of injured and missing unknown.
Official designation:Ten Legs.
Subjugation complete.
-x-X-x-
The Companion III
There is an epilogue to Dang Seo-rin's story.
No, actually, all of my stories are epilogues. At least until we reach the 1183rd cycle.
So, strictly speaking, Dang Seo-rin's story had many epilogues, and I'll mention just a few of them.
"Ah, Undertaker, you're awake?"
The day after the post-Ten Legs subjugation celebration.
Everyone was passed out drunk. Those who could handle their liquor were as drunk as they could handle, and those who couldn't were equally intoxicated. The Ten Legs's head was a fine accompaniment for such revelry.
The remnants of the night, unwilling to forget, lingered even as dawn peeked over the horizon. In that pale light, Dang Seo-rin stood alone under the white pine. Her posture suggested she was bidding farewell to the night past rather than awaiting the sunrise.
"Yes, I'm awake."
"Does your head not hurt? You and Sword Star were downing those drinks."
"I'm quick to get drunk and quick to sober. And I'm not much for sleeping in, anyway. How about you, Alliance Leader? Are you feeling alright?"
"Of course. I'm always fine."
Yet, Dang Seo-rin's voice still sounded hoarse. No surprise there, given she had been chanting spells continuously for 41 minutes on the battlefield and sang heartily at the celebration. Even a singer with vocal cords of steel would have been strained.
"It seems like I'll soon stop hearing you call me Alliance Leader. A bit sad, isn't it?"
"Well, the Ten Legs is dead, but who knows what kind of monsters might pop up next? There's a high chance the guild alliance will need to be formed again. You'll have to be the leader then as well."
"That so?"
Dang Seo-rin quietly looked up at the dawn sky.
"That so..."
I, still not entirely sober, joined her side, half-hoping the blue sky would nullify the remaining effects of alcohol.
Though it seemed unlikely the sky had such properties, what did it matter?
The day sky takes in people's sweat, and the night sky collects their dreams, while the thoughts they haven't managed to express are taken in by the dawn.
"Look."
The wind beside me spoke.
"Wanna hear what my dream is?"
"I already know. It's to conquer every famous eatery in the world."
"Ah, that's right. Can't give up on that." Dang Seo-rin nodded seriously. "But the dream I'm talking about now is a different one."
A different dream?
I tilted my head, puzzled. Did she have another dream? I had served as the vice-guild leader for Dang Seo-rin from the fourth to the sixth cycles, but had never heard of another dream.
"Ah," I realized, "are you perhaps talking about raising three thousand elite guild members to live up to the name of the Samcheon World?"
"Oh. There was that too. What's with you, Undertaker?" Dang Seo-rin looked at me as if surprised as she said, "You always seem so disinterested in others, yet you know so much about me? Are you a fan? Sorry to say it, but there's another dream I'm talking about."
"Then I honestly don't know. What is it?"
"Traveling."
Dang Seo-rin perched up on her heels slightly and reached out toward the dawn.
Her fingers grasped sharply at the sky.
"I want to travel this ruined world by train."
"By train?"
"Yes. It doesn't have to be a grand train. Just a junky, single-carriage train that I've customized myself."
She hummed as if singing.
"A thing that won't move unless I take care of it, where I can eat, sleep, travel, and even hang laundry. Like a camper van or a yacht."
"I'm not sure if the rails are still intact. Even the KTX trains we're using as temporary lodgings in the Samcheon Guild aren't running, are they? The one-lane roads are still managed by the Busan workshops."
"That's okay. Somehow with the mysterious power of magic..." With a yap-yap sound, Dang Seo-rin mimed boxing. "I'll fix the world's destroyed railways one by one, continuing on. From station to station, always laying pretty rails behind wherever I've passed."
"Hmm."
"That's how it will go, and go, and go… until it can't go even a little bit more. When it ends at some dilapidated train station at a beach, where only a single station attendant stands alone."
"..."
Dang Seo-rin said no more.
Without really knowing why, a sudden, creeping doubt struck me, and I turned to look at her face. I found it strange to think at the time, but somehow, she looked as if she might collapse at any moment.
"Alliance Leader?"
"Hmm."
Dang Seo-rin blinked. She leaned against her broom, which she claimed was a necessity for any witch.
Her complexion was the same as usual.
"Undertaker, why not join my guild and become a vice-guild leader? You know our guild does well. You won't get another chance like this. You'll regret it later if you don't."
"…Are we back to that? I won't wear the pointy hat."
"Really? Then, it can't be helped."
Dang Seo-rin walked away, sending me off with a light wave.
"Bye-bye! I'll go for a walk and then head back. Don't follow me—I'll enjoy some solitude."
"When will you return?"
"Who knows? Maybe in about an hour?"
An hour passed, then two, and Dang Seo-rin did not return.
A search party was dispatched by the guild alliance.
Three hours after her disappearance, Dang Seo-rin was found collapsed on a forest trail.
After that day, Dang Seo-rin never got up again.
"The guild leader of Samcheon—how is she?"
"It is... an unusual case."
The medical team looked somber.
"Overall, her bodily functions are deteriorating. We thought it might be a curse, but it's not that. I can only say it's truly baffling… I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it wouldn't be surprising if she were to close her eyes and find rest at any moment."
"I see."
I braced myself and entered the hospital room, one of the few still functioning normally in Korea.
Dang Seo-rin caught my eye from where she sat by the window. She was reading a novel, relying on the wheels of a wheelchair instead of the trains she loved so much.
"..."
"..."
Silence hung in the air.
After about 30 seconds, Dang Seo-rin slammed the novel shut and placed it on her lap.
"Lifespan."
That was the first thing she said after seeing my face in two weeks.
"Lifespan?"
"Yes. That's really the heart of it, isn't it? I hate when the mood gets like this. Let's get it over with and talk about something else," she said, shrugging.
Her expression and gestures were so like the usual Dang Seo-rin that you wouldn't believe anything was wrong with her if it weren't for the wheelchair.
No.
It wasn't just the wheelchair. Her pointed hat hung on a coat rack, and her broom—which wasn't a witch's must-have but a cleaning tool—leaned against the wall.
That hospital room felt like an insult to the person that was Dang Seo-rin.
"My magic becomes stronger the more of my lifespan I burn. It's not just magic, but a power I've awakened. Cleverly named [Equivalent Exchange]. It's not all that foreign of a concept for an ability, is it?"
"Then…"
"Yeah. Wow, the Ten Legs was really tough. How could a monster like that exist, seriously? I thought it would die right then and there when I chanted the tenth melody, but here I am, still surviving. Anyway, it's not like I'm sick."
The words on the tip of my tongue wouldn't leave me.
It wasn't because I couldn't think of anything comforting to say. It was just, the shock I felt in that moment overwhelmed me.
'She never told me before.'
The fact that Dang Seo-rin was a multi-ability Awakener.
In addition to her magical abilities, she had the power to temporarily boost her firepower by burning her lifespan. Even when I had been her second-in-command in the Samcheon Guild, Dang Seo-rin had kept her secret weapon hidden.
Because…
"…Were you planning to die in battle to defeat the Ten Legs?"
"You're so smart, Undertaker."
Dang Seo-rin nodded crisply.
"To win against such an opponent, one must risk their life. Isn't that right? You, Sword Star, everyone who participated in the battle, the soldiers and civilian volunteers who supported us. Everyone."
I couldn't refute her.
Hadn't I too gambled with my life seven times?
Suddenly, the conversations we had during those cycles came to mind. With the Ten Legs subjugation right before us, she had recited:
-30 minutes. Just hold on for 30 minutes. I'll set up an archmagic spell to blow the Ten Legs' head off.
-Undertaker, Sword Star. Whatever it takes, just hold out for 25… no, 30 minutes.
By then, Dang Seo-rin must have been prepared for her own death. Thus, what she really was asking for was this:
-Just hold on for 30 minutes until I die.
But the subjugation of the Ten Legs took 41 minutes. The lifespan consumed in that time must have been far beyond her limits.
"..."
I found it hard to calm my roiling heart.
For me, regression was also a tool to test the potential of others. Most people's actions and outcomes changed with each cycle. However, some things did not change no matter how many times I regressed.
The strength of mind and the firmness of conviction.
Dang Seo-rin had always discussed subjugating the Ten Legs and mentioned 30 minutes without exception in every cycle. In every cycle, her principle of action to 'sacrifice her own life to annihilate humanity's enemy' remained unchanged.
"How exactly does Equivalent Exchange work?" I asked finally.
"Ah. When I awakened the ability, it told me that my natural lifespan was 85 years. So now, I just think in my mind, 'I'll use up a few years from the remaining 60 years,' and my firepower automatically enhances."
"So, did you use up over 60 years in the Ten Legs battle?"
"Uh, well, um…" Dang Seo-rin furrowed her brow. "That's the really strange part."
"What is?"
"Did I tell you? I didn't expect to last over 30 minutes while chanting Cursed Song Incantation. If my calculations were correct, even reaching the sixth melody would've been a close call."
She rested her chin on her hand.
"The thing with Cursed Song Incantation is, the more melodies that overlap, the more the required magic power increases exponentially. And I do mean exponentially. Even if I had used up 60 years of lifespan, reaching the tenth melody should have been impossible."
"But you chanted it just fine."
"Right? Isn't it strange? Even while I was chanting behind you guys, I was actually thinking, 'Why is this working? How is this working?' and had lots of question marks floating around."
"..."
"I was sweating bullets."
That's when it happened.
An odd premonition, different from anxiety or foreboding but similar in sensation, ran down my spine.
"Alliance Leader. In that case, exactly how many years of lifespan did you use up during the Ten Legs battle?"
"Huh? I was too out of it to count every year. Let's see…"
"…Perhaps about 250 years?"
"Oh," Dang Seo-rin gasped, then nodded. "Right. Not exactly sure, but definitely more than 200 years and certainly less than 300. Roughly 250 years. How did you know?"
An electric current surged through me, a realization dawning.
If we were just talking about examples... Suppose, hypothetically, that the lifespan Dang Seo-rin hadn't used then 'carries over to the next cycle'?
I don't know how Dang Seo-rin met her end from the first to the third cycles. She probably fought against the Ten Legs then, too, but without Old Man Scho and me, even if she entered the battle, the squad would have been annihilated within five minutes. She would have died before she could even start her Cursed Song Incantation.
Dang Seo-rin's natural lifespan was 85 years. Removing her current age from that, and excluding the lifespan she spent here and there outside of the Ten Legs battle, she would have had about 45 years left.
In other words, from the first to the fifth cycles, when the Ten Legs battle hadn't properly taken place, Dang Seo-rin inadvertently left about 40~45 years per cycle.
Starting in the sixth cycle when Old Man Scho joined, the pace of the Ten Legs battles picked up. That allowed Dang Seo-rin to leisurely use up her lifespan.
An extra 10 years, 15 years, 20 years.
Dang Seo-rin's lifespans gradually 'accumulated'.
Thus, by the tenth cycle, she had unwittingly saved up 250 years in an account called Lifespan.
'If this hypothesis is true...'
During the past cycles, the lifespans Dang Seo-rin had saved up were unfortunately all used up in this tenth cycle.
But my regression didn't end with the tenth cycle. It would continue on, and depending on the circumstances, she might be able to save more of her lifespan.
'If the savings reach 500 years? What about 1000, 2000 years?'
I couldn't contain my tremors. "Guild Leader."
"Yes?"
I inadvertently called Dang Seo-rin 'Guild Leader' as I used to. She didn't seem to notice anything peculiar about it, tilting her head as usual.
"What is it?" she prompted.
"I have something important to tell you."
I'm a regressor.
Your lifespan might accumulate with each cycle.
"That's amazing!"
Dang Seo-rin's eyes sparkled with surprise and intrigue as she listened to my theory.
"Undertaker, were you actually my lackey?"
"Is that what you're surprised about…?"
"Of course! What else should I be shocked by? Wow, I was amazing in other cycles too. My eyes didn't deceive me. The pointed hat would really suit you. Look here, Undertaker. Won't you be my witchy friend?"
What on earth is a witchy friend?
"Didn't you consider the possibility that I might be lying to you?"
"Huh? Why would I think of that? We're comrades, you and I. If you say you're a regressor, then you must be."
Dang Seo-rin chuckled lightly while coughing. The sound of her cough spread thin puffs of her remaining lifespan into the air.
"Anyway, you have dreams similar to mine."
"Really?"
"You're also moving forward like me, repairing the tracks in this broken world, one by one. The tracks the Ten Legs destroyed, the abandoned lines that other monsters left broken and torn. If we keep fixing them step by step, then eventually, the tracks will connect from one station to another, and then other people can walk along those tracks too."
"..."
"Not bad."
Even if I didn't have Complete Memory, I will never forget the words I heard that day.
She grinned. "And it's ironic. I can't walk the rails with you, but at least my lifespan will follow you at the same pace. I can't be with you in life, but in death, we are companions."
Dang Seo-rin kept a smile to the end as she reached out her hand.
The novel on her lap slid off. The white pages, stitched to the spine and unable to grow into wings, unfurled partially on the floor.
Her eyes were shining brightly. Her five fingers gripped my forearm. The person who lost her parents and siblings to a monster, the one who couldn't stop loving trains, held onto my arm.
Clutching at it.
"Don't waste my lifespan. Use it well, Undertaker."
"..."
"It took up to the tenth melody to defeat the Ten Legs. That's too much of a waste. You need to become stronger."
So I did.
"I shouldn't burn away my lifespan with Cursed Song Incantation. It's just a hunch, but I feel like it won't be enough. Those creatures might be stronger. Not 250 years, but 500 years or even 1000 years might be necessary. You need to make sure my lifespan accumulates as many years as possible to prepare for the monsters that will appear after the Ten Legs."
So I did.
"And if possible, don't reveal to the next cycle's me that you're a regressor. I'm too greedy, too selfish. I can never think in terms of 'sacrificing this cycle for the next one.' If I knew that lifespans could be saved up for hundreds of years, I would definitely use it all up right away. Until the very, very last moment, try to guide things so that my lifespan continues to accumulate."
So I did.
"And in other cycles, always try to become my vice-guild leader."
That, I did not do.
Her laughter was bright as she said, "I'm looking forward to it, my companion in time."
That night, Dang Seo-rin died.
Her remains were scattered at the beach.
It wasn't easy to fulfill her will. I grew stronger, and the Ten Legs no longer forced me to struggle. The need for Dang Seo-rin to chant during battles against the Ten Legs disappeared. Yet even after the Ten Legs vanished, formidable enemies continued to appear, and Dang Seo-rin always stood at the forefront.
She was always at the forefront. The ends of the damaged tracks were always her destination.
Supporting her, who frequently sought to use up her lifespan, was more difficult than anticipated.
Once, a disaster occurred where all of her lifespans were reset. That, of course, was just a one-off mistake. Now, over 1000 cycles later, by my calculations, Dang Seo-rin's lifespan has accumulated tens of thousands of years. A lifetime supply spanning at least 30,000 years.
'How long could she sing if she started now?'
Sometimes, while drinking coffee, I get lost in such fantasies, envisioning Dang Seo-rin singing on some battlefield. The first melody, the second, the third... No matter how long it goes on and overlaps, her song never ends and eventually spreads beyond the horizon, reaching all the beaches where the world's tracks connect.
Eventually, Dang Seo-rin would arrive at some coast she had longed for. Wearing a pointed hat, holding a staff, aboard a single-carriage train.
While I hope to hear that song someday, I also secretly wish that day never comes.
In recent cycles, whenever Dang Seo-rin happens to meet me, she asks, just like when we first met in the fourth cycle, in exactly the same way:
"Undertaker. Don't you want to join my guild? I can offer you the position of vice-guild leader."
Then I smile lightly and respond, "I won't join."
It can't be helped.
The pointed hat doesn't suit me, does it, Guild Leader?
-x-X-x-
The Reader I
After that rather serious discussion, it's time to lighten the mood again.
In the very early stages of my regression, that is, before the 20th cycle, I had been overly serious. I had believed that if I could just stay focused and put in enough effort, I could surely save the world.
I don't intend to disparage that effort, but it was somewhat arrogant of me. Who was I to treat the world's weight as equal to my own?
Infinite regression? It's just an awakened ability.
People should know how to let go of themselves. The weight released leaves room for others.
In any case, my way of letting go was through hobbies.
I guarantee that there are no other regressors with as many diverse hobbies as I have.
Managing mental health is the most important thing in a regressor's life, and hobbies are like housekeepers that keep one's mental home clean.
A regressor's mental landscape is an extravagant palace spanning thousands of square feet. Naturally, the number of maids needed for this metaphorical cleaningmust also be considerable. If I were to list the maids I've hired, or rather, my hobbies, they would be as follows:
[Games, exploring SG Net, barista work, weightlifting, bullying fairies, harassing Seo Gyu, cooking, walking, listening to music, playing music, stealing Dang Seo-rin's pointed hat and hiding it under the bed, guitar, harassing Seo Gyu, violin, piano, painting, sculpting, ceramics, collecting radios, stealing and listening to Old Man Scho's phone recordings, managing a ranch, harassing Seo Gyu, choosing any job and living it up...]
But I won't mention all those maids one by one. There's nothing as tedious as babbling about a hobby that others can't relate to.
So, today's chosen maid is 'reading'.
More specifically, 'reading web novels'.
I originally didn't know about web novels.
As a child, I only read a few martial arts novels, and so it wasn't until about halfway into my regressions that I came to know of this form of fiction.
It was through a person I met in the 555th cycle that I was introduced to web novels. This person was an Awakener named Oh Dok-seo, but I'll have the chance to talk more about her in the next episode.
For now, it's only important that I found a new hobby and was happier because of it.
The best part about web novels is that each work has a lot of content. They say reading nourishes the mind, and I'm someone who values quantity over quality when eating. At least in the restaurant of web novels, I didn't have to worry about running out of food.
That, of course, was a damned illusion.
"No more novels… to read?"
I was shocked.
I had only managed to enjoy this feast until the 556th cycle. In just one or two cycles, all the fodder available to me was depleted. In reality, web novels were a relatively new phenomenon and had a surprisingly limited number of works.
"Uh, hmm. Should I start diving into other genres…?"
A thirsty person doesn't choose their well.
Though I only started with fantasy novels, I quickly consumed academy novels, horror stories, romance fantasy, martial arts, isekai, professional stories, parodies, TS (gender-swap), yuri, and more. If it was written in King Sejong's invented script, I devoured it.[1] Eventually, even English and Japanese novels weren't off limits.
A whole new world opened up.
I was happy.
The 558th cycle ended.
The new world was destroyed.
"No more novels… to read?"
I was once again shocked.
I had thoroughly scraped the bottom of the barrel, leaving nothing left to consume.
I wasn't picky.
I gladly consumed postmodernist novels that daringly replaced double quotes ("") with reverse-double quotes ("").
I enjoyed minimalist masterpieces that omitted periods inside quotation marks and classics by new-generation phonologists who tried to express character voices with tildes (~) or silence with ellipses (...).
I even read satires where an original character not in the source material appeared, hoarded all the protagonist's fortuitous encounters for themselves, and then sneered at the protagonist, criticizing their weakness compared to the original. It was a biting critique of modern selfishness.
I also read the work of a plague researcher where every character laughed in 'Ho-ho,' so they all contracted 'Ho-ho Syndrome.'
In other words,
"Hum~ How strange.. was the protagonist always this weak? Ho! Ho! Ho!"
Even bizarre scriptures like that became my daily bread.
Alas――
From now on, call me the Diver of the Web Novel World, not the Undertaker. Because it is the truth. This was my bottom, my abyss, my Mariana Trench. If I went any deeper, I couldn't even breathe, let alone find anything to eat.
Even as a regressor with a lot of experience, this was a hellscape where survival wasn't guaranteed!
So I could confidently say,
"No more novels… exist."
Many readers like myself will eventually face this same situation. When this happens, there are usually two paths a reader can take: decide to take a break from web novels or become an author and make the content themselves.
I just so happened not to be an 'ordinary' reader.
I was an infinite regressor, and regressors have a third path.
"I'll have to kidnap all the writers and turn them into machines that spit out stories."
I puffed out my chest.
A path no one had taken. But a path every reader has dreamt of.
Toward that path, I, the Undertaker, stepped forward with confidence.
Over one cycle, I gathered personal information and profiles of web novel authors, and at the start of the next cycle, I traveled the country, collecting authors.
Of course, since authors aren't fantastical creatures that could be captured by throwing red-and-white balls at them, it required painstaking effort to add them to the collection.
Those sensitive to the author's sensibilities might object, "Isn't that kidnapping, not collecting?"
But around the 560th cycle, I was quite strong. Compared to surviving in this harsh world, wouldn't they live a happier life being bred under my protection as a regressor?
I eventually succeeded in gathering over 300 authors, becoming a master of writer-mon. The authors probably had no idea who brought them here, why, or where they had been taken.
"Where is this place?"
"Hey... maybe..."
"Aren't you PenmanshipBully? Isn't that you?"
"Oh, I knew it. You're WritingSlave. We met briefly at that wedding, right?"
"YuriMeddler! You're here too!"
"Gasp, HaremRomance Bro!"
When hundreds of authors were gathered in a hotel lobby, some would begin to recognize each other. They couldn't hide their murmuring fear but tried to make sense of the situation.
"Why were we brought here?"
"Did anyone hear an explanation?"
"Sorry, I just fainted, and when I woke up, I was here… I've been here for three days already."
"Three days?"
"Oh, I've been here for four."
"Wow, that must have been tough."
"Huh? No, they served us nutritious meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the accommodations were comfortable, and I didn't have to write daily, so it was great."
"…?"
"…?"
It was about time I explained.
"Check, check. Can you hear me?" I grabbed the microphone and stood atop the check-in counter. Hundreds of eyes turned towards me.
In truth, I only used amplification magic to project my voice, and the microphone was just decoration. Still, I felt it necessary to show courtesy in front of the esteemed authors.
These 335 people, confined in this hotel, were carefully and meticulously selected talents. Regardless of genre, age, or gender, only the writers who had made my heart race even once were brought here.
"Greetings. I am an Awakener known as the Undertaker. As some of you might have guessed, all of you gathered here are authors in the web novel industry."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Only authors?"
"Where is this place?"
"If it's only authors here, this must be hell."
"Who's that person holding the mic?"
I spoke in a serious tone. "As I said, I am the Undertaker. This place is a hotel near Incheon. All the staff fled after trouble erupted in Seoul, but don't worry. I have already hired new staff, and they are all highly trained professionals."
I pointed to the other side of the lobby, and twenty fairies wearing Che Guevara T-shirts saluted. I returned the salute.
At one point, I had been hostile towards fairies, but by the 560th cycle, I had established an amicable relationship with the [Fairy Revolution Club]. I knew their true identity well.
"So," I concluded, "please rest assured that you are in good hands."
"What the hell! Fairies?!"
"Kyaaaah! Help!"
The authors weren't particularly reassured.
A bit of commotion ensued, but it was subdued without issue. Ninety-nine percent of the authors were far too insignificant in the physical world to cause a stir.
I took up the microphone again.
"Check, check. Mic test. Unfortunately, you cannot escape. The main entrance of the hotel is sealed. The windows of each room allow a view but can't be crossed. Just like our lives."
"Let us go!"
"You cannot escape. Highly trained fairy revolutionaries will monitor you 24/7."
"Crazy..."
"Who is this person? I'm scared..."
"Everyone, let me ask you this first. Even if you could escape, do you really intend to leave this place?"
A question mark seemed to hover over the authors' heads. I would clear their doubts right away.
"You may have heard from the news, but the world is well and truly collapsing. Monsters have appeared worldwide, and Gates are opening. That's right. You're completely fucked."
"Uh…"
"Even your livelihoods, the web novel platforms, are hard to access now. And even if you could access them, your readers can't buy your stories because the banking system is collapsing. Soon, the internet network will also start cutting out, and then your writing skills will be useless."
The truth has a way of resonating.
The authors' faces visibly paled. Many of them had started writing with the mindset of "What? I can just write alone and make money? Sweet." That sweetness was now gone.
"And even if you keep writing, it's still a problem. From now on, readers of your stories have a 0.06% chance of encountering the Isekai Truck. In this era, your novels are as good as weapons."
"Isekai Truck…?"
"Is he a lunatic or something?"
The authors murmured amongst themselves, thinking I was spouting crap.
Well, no, the Isekai Truck was very real. It was an anomaly first discovered in the 119th cycle, and its sightings rapidly increased from then on. Still, no matter how many trucks came barreling towards us, the protective barrier I set around this hotel would hold strong, so it wasn't a concern.
"Then… why did you bring us here?"
"Because I'm a passionate fan of yours. Of all of you." I pointed to an author sitting in the front row. "You there."
"Y-yes?"
"You're BadEndingLover, aren't you? Always writing yuri novels on NovelCampus."
The author I singled out looked stunned. "H-how do you… know me?"
"Didn't I just say I'm a fan?"
"Well, uh, I appreciate the compliment, but… you couldn't possibly have read my work… My most popular novel only has 2,000 favorites, and the latest chapter barely gets 100 views…"
"In your first work, the protagonist faced all sorts of misfortunes, a truly tragic story. But from your next piece onward, you started to incorporate elements of no-romance, eventually mastering the balance between tragedy and no-romance. Granted, in the later stages of your stories, secondary characters suddenly overtake the plot and pair up with the protagonist, giving the story a pure love ending, but even that ruggedness is part of your charm, BadEndingLover."
"You really did read my stuff…?"
The authors were astonished.
I proceeded to call out more.
"RighteousHeavenlyDemonMartial. In an age where the term 'Heavenly Demon' has been trivialized into a joke, your tales of righteousness and honor in traditional martial arts always stir my heart."
"NureongiBapsang. You're always trying new things in a romance fantasy market that's been running dry."
"MarlovHorseLover. I know how much you contributed to expanding the 'stand-in' genre, which was considered niche. Your story about a protagonist born as a Hungarian noble during World War I, becoming the last cavalry commander and being hailed as a loyal servant of the House of Habsburg is exceptionally rare, and yet it doesn't sacrifice entertainment."
After listing about thirty authors, the ones I mentioned looked deeply moved, though their faces also flushed slightly each time their pen names were called. At any rate, no one in the hotel lobby doubted my sincerity anymore.
"Wait a minute."
But the suspicions started to take a different direction.
The authors whispered amongst themselves. Their voices were as faint as mosquitoes, but my enhanced hearing caught every word.
"So this reader reads yuri, TS, pure love, harem, traditional martial arts, fusion martial arts, tragedy, light tragedy, and even those genres we can't mention for various reasons…?"
"Eek, a monster…!"
"Oh my gosh, what a glutton!"
"He's not Kim Dokja but Kim Nureongi..."[2]
Hah, these authors are slandering a valuable reader.
As a regressor, I just avoided snacking for my mental health. My tastes were quite healthy.
"I'd like to express how appreciative I am of all of you, but due to time constraints, I'll skip it today."
"'Today'…?"
"Moreover, I'm sure some of you don't want your genre publicly revealed."
Several authors flinched.
"I'll reach out to you privately sometime. Anyway, authors, please think carefully. Yes, I did kidnap you and imprison you here, but the world outside is dangerous. Can you survive out there in a world that's falling apart?"
The lobby fell silent.
In cycles where I hadn't brought them, half of these authors didn't last six months. The rest didn't survive past a year. Only two managed to live relatively long.
"Here, you won't have to worry about survival. I'll provide everything you need—food, clothing, and shelter. Even those fairies you fear are just employees at this hotel. Your only job is to write novels."
"..."
"You can continue your current series or start a new one. Just write. In return, I'll give you everything else."
The authors murmured at that.
"He's not wrong. It really seems like the country is doomed."
"I was planning to flee abroad, but hearing it's no different there, I gave up. Besides, communication would be difficult…"
"They serve buffet meals here every day. It's not bad."
"If you think about the people who couldn't come here, maybe we're the lucky ones…"
"Right. What happened to the other authors?"
The atmosphere took a positive turn.
Then, someone muttered to themselves, "Isn't this just a damn canning factory…?"
Well, some were quick-witted, but the majority had already made up their minds.
That day marked the beginning of filming for this group stay-misery with 335 authors.
Footnotes:
[1] Sejong the Great, the fourth monarch of the Joseon dynasty of Korea, was the inventor of Hangul, the Korean alphabet.
[2] Kim Dokja is the protagonist of Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint and is well-known for being a hardcore reader of web fiction, while nureongi is the primary dog breed raised in Korea for meat. Essentially, the Undertaker is not the consumer but the consumed.
-x-X-x-
The Reader II
I was quite satisfied with the 'Canned Hotel' I had built.
Guilt? I felt none. After all, without my intervention, these writers would meet their untimely end just like they had in other cycles. Even the Saintess, the embodiment of morality, would give me a thumbs up.
[…Mr. Undertaker.]
"Yes? What is it, Saintess?"
[…No, nothing.]
More importantly, I was genuinely saving the authors' lives.
Remember how I mentioned the "Isekai Truck" earlier?
The Isekai Truck is a mysterious monster that can appear to readers of web novels, promising to transport them to a world where their favorite novel's setting is fully realized, but it does so by crashing into the reader.
No joke—it's a real monster.
If you're an avid web novel reader, one day, as you're walking down the street, you might suddenly hear a hooonk! and if you turn to look, you'll see an 11-ton truck charging straight at you. Its unique feature is that instead of a license plate number, the truck has a novel title engraved on it.
Some people might be thrilled and attempt to kiss the truck's hood, thinking, "Finally, I can escape this monster-filled apocalypse on the Korean Peninsula!" But don't bother. I tried getting hit three times as a test, and that thing about transmigration? A total farce. It's a lying monster just like the Hero Syndrome.
Anyway, this Isekai Truck targets not only readers but also writers, as they are the first to read their own stories.
In other words?
Hooonk!
Beep! Honk! Hooonk!
Hooonk! Honk!
One by one, cargo trucks lined up in front of the Canned Hotel I had built.
"Eyaaah— Strange trucks have gathered outside our revolutionary hideout!"
Even the fairies, who were used to all sorts of monsters, were puzzled and tilted their heads at the sight.
Those trucks weren't to be taken lightly. The Isekai Truck could teleport wherever the protagonist was and would always catch up, hit-and-run, and then vanish without a trace.
It had racked up a history that earned it the moniker of 'God Slayer', given how many protagonists it had taken down, be they world saviors, heroes, harbingers of doom, masterminds, gods, or even mere extra characters who claim they're the strongest.
No one but the Tutorial Fairy, who had butchered many protagonists, could handle this terrifying anomaly.
"Is the barrier holding up?"
"Yes, Comrade Manager! No matter how those reactionaries struggle to turn back time, the dialectical progress of the revolution is a supreme truth! The evolutionary turn of history cannot be reversed by the futile efforts of those bourgeois thugs!"
Boom!
As if to prove the point, one of the 11-ton trucks (which had suddenly appeared on the horizon) came barreling toward the hotel entrance and crashed into it.
However, the hotel's main entrance, which I had barricaded with the fairies, remained intact. Only the truck was crumpled like an aluminum can.
Honnnk...
Honnnk! Honk...
The Isekai Trucks in the parking lot honked, as if mourning their comrade's valiant death.
Meanwhile, the fairies on the balcony waved red flags printed with portraits of Che Guevara and wept in defiance, some even shedding tears.
"Ah, revolution! Revolution!"
"Drop dead, you imperialist fucks! Petit bourgeois!"
"Commune of the fairies of all nations! May it last forever!"
I nodded with satisfaction. "Hmm, good. Revolution vanguard, continue defending the barricades. The success of the revolution hinges on this mission. Everyone, good job."
"Yes, Comrade Manager!"
"Viva la Revolution!"
"Our dreams will never die!"
The fairies saluted with the kind of spirit that would have garnered a standing ovation from the citizens of Paris in 1871.
See? I truly cared about the authors' safety and well-being.
If not for the Canned Hotel, where would those trucks be heading? I wasn't just saving the authors' lives but also their readers'. The entire web novel industry of the Korean Peninsula owed its survival to me.
In return for this dedication, I didn't ask much from the authors. Just keep writing. If they filled my empty bowl with new fodder, I'd provide them with food, clothing, shelter, and protection from the Isekai Trucks for at least ten years.
After patrolling the guards, I headed to the Secretariat (Editorial Department), where fairies with a more intellectual vibe greeted me.
"Ah, Comrade Manager. Please, come in."
"Good. You're all doing well. Since it's been a month since the canning began, the authors must have stocked up on enough chapters."
I cast a meaningful gaze at Secretary Agent No. 264.
"Comrade Secretary 264. Bring me the accumulated manuscripts."
"Yes, sir!"
In this cycle, Secretary Fairy 264, who managed to secure a high-ranking position, brought in the printed manuscripts.
I waited eagerly, filled with anticipation, and took the new works in my hands...
Only to find myself doubting my eyes.
"What is this?"
The stack of A4 papers looked too thin, hardly fitting for an entire month's work by hundreds of authors. It was less than even a well-filled joint fanzine.
"Why is there so little?"
"But this really is all there is!"
This couldn't be. The authors I asked to write in exchange for food, shelter, and protection from the Isekai Trucks hadn't even written!
After finishing my regressor duties (awakening Seo Gyu, cooperating with the Saintess, closing Gates, training promising talents, collaborating with guild leaders, etc.) and finally returning to the hotel today, I was in utter disbelief.
I had waited all month for this day.
"You mean I brought in 335 authors, and there aren't even 100 manuscripts...?"
The pile of manuscripts in my hand quivered. My anger and disappointment translated into a magnitude 7 on the seismometer.
Authors who don't write? How are they any different from bums? At least bums feel a twinge of guilt when they waste time watching movies and TV shows. But these so-called authors simply pat themselves on the back, calling it "experience" and "learning" and "getting inspiration from movies and shows."
If there's no difference between the two groups (or non-groups), why should I, as a regressor, waste valuable resources supporting bums?
"What am I supposed to do with this?" I said, disgusted.
"Shall we send them all to the gulag?"
"This is already the gulag... But where could we send our precious writing slaves?"
I slammed the table.
"Gather all the authors in the lobby right now!"
A little later, the summoned authors wobbled into the lobby.
Wait, what?
'Have the authors put on some weight?'
Even when I first locked them in the Canned Hotel, they weren't in the best health on average, and now, after a month of who-knows-what diet, they were bloated with chubby cheeks. If they stayed like this any longer, their faces would shine like waxed fruit.
"...Authors. I am deeply disappointed in you." Overcome with fury, I addressed them. "If each of you wrote just one chapter a day, that would be 335 chapters. Over a month, that's over 10,000 chapters. Do you understand? 10,000 chapters! But now, look at the manuscripts I'm holding."
"...."
"91 chapters! 91! Does that make any sense? And those 91 chapters were written by only 12 of you! Out of 335, only 12 wrote anything!"
Whoosh! I scattered the A4 papers from the platform. They weren't actual manuscripts but just blank sheets—a kind of performance. I couldn't actually throw away the writing of these talented authors.
But my performance worked. The authors' faces paled.
"Even now, I'm running around day and night to ensure your safety and comfort! And this is what you give me in return? If you have any excuses, speak up!"
"Um..."
"Uhhh..."
The authors glanced away.
"Well, you see… Mr. Reader, uh, we're sorry, but a new story doesn't just pop into existence so easily..."
"Yeah, we tried brainstorming, walking, and sleeping, but nothing solid came to mind."
"Mr. Reader! A story takes longer to plan than to write! Especially for new projects."
"I hate to say this since we're freeloading, but honestly, demanding new ideas in just a month is unreasonable."
"Right!"
"We really tried writing, but we couldn't. We want to write, but nothing comes out. It's driving us crazy!"
The authors continued to chorus their explanations like a seasoned a cappella choir, passing the tune back and forth.
Hearing their reasoning made me pause.
'That's plausible.'
Indeed, they say creation is a constant struggle.
After finishing one work, some authors take three to four years to start another.
Perhaps my demand for a new project in a month was too much... Hmm?
"Wait a moment. Only 126 of you should be working on a new project. The rest were already serializing existing works, weren't they?"
The authors flinched.
"So why couldn't you write? You didn't miss any deadlines before checking in."
"Adaptation!"
The authors sang in unison.
"Serializing requires a delicate balance of environment. Some authors write only at home, others only in cafés, and some need their own studio."
"But no one writes in hotels..."
"It's a totally different story."
"My sinuses were so bad yesterday, I couldn't sleep. My head felt foggy, and I didn't want to touch the keyboard."
"Oh, I know that feeling too!"
"I had so much free time that I got stuck editing endlessly, like an infinite loop."
"In an unfamiliar environment, you have to rebuild your writing habits from scratch. Serialization is all about routine."
"Good to hear that we writers really do understand each other. This is a subtle but crucial issue that outsiders who have never serialized a work wouldn't understand."
"Exactly. It's not easy."
Is that so?
Indeed, they say creation demands a certain sensibility.
To provide a comfortable, collective living environment, I had taken over a luxury hotel in Incheon. I even gave them a weekly allowance. Even in this collapsed world, with no way to leave and no use for currency, it still served a purpose.
'Because there's a casino in the hotel's basement.'
It was originally a foreigner-only casino, but now it was a paradise just for the authors. They could use their monthly stipend as game money and indulge to their heart's content. The luxury shopping mall in the hotel was also open for business.
According to Secretary Fairy No. 264, the authors were highly satisfied with this setup and frequented the casino.
It was a near-perfect welfare system!
'But it's an unfamiliar environment.'
I nodded.
How could I, just a mere reader, meddle in the writers' deep anguish and delicate sensibilities?
I could use Mind Reading to read their thoughts, but it felt disrespectful to the authors I cherished.
"Alright. Then I'll give you one more month," I acquiesced.
"A month is too short... At least three months..."
"Well, no matter how difficult the job, every profession requires discipline. I trust in your diligence."
"Yes..."
"We will do our best..."
Another month passed.
This time, I received only 75 chapters.
"Why is it even less?"
I was appalled. How could this happen?
The fairy grinned brightly. "But this really is all there is!"
"No… Secretary, does this make sense? There are 335 authors. If each wrote one chapter a week, that's over a thousand chapters. But not even 750, just 75?"
I reconvened the authors and grilled them again, but their answers remained the same. And if people give the same answer twice after being given two chances, that's an excuse.
Unfortunately, I couldn't trust the authors any longer. In hindsight, I must have seen them through rose-colored glasses.
An expert. I needed an expert who could analyze why this was happening.
After consulting one, I got my answer immediately.
"Are you stupid? The environment's too good, old man."
-x-X-x-