The Ruler III
So, if you ask what the Great Witch Dang Seo-rin did with the grand spell she painstakingly created over such a long time― well, not much.
"Undertaker, are you good with pain?"
"I'd say I handle it fairly well. Why do you ask?"
"Do you have the generosity to forgive me even if I inflict pain on you?"
"..."
I felt uneasy.
"What are you planning?"
"Just answer the question first. Do you or don't you?"
"...I suppose I can say I do."
"Good. Undertaker, I'm going to show you something really interesting."
Right after she said that, Dang Seo-rin took out a fountain pen and stabbed it into my right hand.
I screamed like Tom from "Tom and Jerry." What the hell? Is she crazy?
"Wait! Stop! Hold on! I'm doing it too!"
"What?"
Dang Seo-rin promptly stabbed her own left hand. Blood dripped from the pen's sharp tip. Is she really insane?
As I looked on in bewilderment, Dang Seo-rin did something even crazier. As both of us bled, she began to sing.
And then, something amazing happened.
"Ah-♪"
A blue 'scales' appeared in the air, like a faint hologram.
At the same time, the wound on my right hand healed instantly. Instead, a new wound formed on my left hand.
The exact same thing happened to Dang Seo-rin but in reverse. The wound on her left hand moved to her right hand.
Shortly after, drops of blood balanced on the scales, and then the scales vanished from the air.
I was dumbfounded.
"What is this…?"
"Ah, this is the equivalent exchange."
Dang Seo-rin smiled with an otaku grin.
It was somewhat irritating.
"Your wound and my wound. My pain and your pain have been swapped."
"That's amazing!"
I was genuinely impressed.
Our hands were still bleeding like faucets, but it was undoubtedly a remarkable spell.
"How does it work?"
"I told you, it's equivalent exchange. The spell enacts a fair exchange as I see fit."
"Incredible. So, could I potentially transfer my wounds to Ten Legs after getting injured?"
If that were possible, it could revolutionize our strategy against the monsters.
But Dang Seo-rin shook her head and clicked her tongue in her annoying manner.
"Unfortunately, such use is nearly impossible. The spell requires the other party's consent."
"Oh…"
I couldn't hide my disappointment. That's why she asked me those strange questions earlier.
"...Wait, then what can this be used for? Exchanging pain for pain or pleasure for pleasure, but the total amount remains the same. Could it perhaps be used to convert energy into another form?"
"Oh— that's a brilliant idea, but it's impossible too. As I said, consent is required, and you can't ask energy or materials for consent. They don't have brains. Oh, and it doesn't work on plants or animals either since they don't understand human language…."
"Then it's a completely useless spell!"
"Magic is never useless!"
Dang Seo-rin's berserk button was pushed. She was a lunatic who would immediately launch attack spells once triggered.
Naturally, our fight ended in my victory. For Dang Seo-rin to defeat me, she'd have to prepare her song spells at least 30 minutes in advance. That's the nature of the matchup between a straightforward warrior and a devious sorcerer.
After such a trivial quarrel, time passed.
Of course, I had the [Complete Memory] ability, so instead of saying "some time passed," I could specify it had been exactly 398 days since then. Just a literary expression. Counting every single moment like someone with savant syndrome wouldn't interest anyone.
So, 398 days, 16 hours, and 38 minutes later, I visited the Samcheon World headquarters after a long while. But Dang Seo-rin wasn't there.
"Ah, are you looking for the Great Witch? She's out for today's trial."
A guild member who recognized me explained. Her silver hair shimmered prettily.
Her name was Yu Ji-won, a talent selected in the 5th cycle and now serving as an executive in the Samcheon World. While she was quite capable, she had some significant personality flaws— a psychopath.
She was also the Latin major.
"Trial day? What's that? And why is an operations chief manning the counter? Where are your subordinates?"
"Most of the guild members are out at the square. I don't have much to do there, so I'm guarding the base."
"Hmm. So, what's trial day?"
"Recently, in Busan, we designated the last day of every month as trial day."
The silver-haired psychopath adjusted her glasses.
"The Great Witch personally presides over trials for those who've committed murder or caused serious injuries. The public response has been very positive."
Ah, by the way, 'Great Witch' was Dang Seo-rin's official title. Especially for guild members of the Samcheon World, it was mandatory to use this title.
Similar to how I had to call the old man Swordmaster.
Only in the 5th cycle, when I served as the vice guild leader, did I get to call Dang Seo-rin 'Guild leader.' Because that was my condition for joining her.
"She's probably on the last trial by now. It'll take about an hour. Would you like to wait in the reception room? I'll get you a ticket."
"No, it's fine. I'd just waste expensive snacks being here with you guys. Where is the trial held?"
"Right in the square ahead, Great Witch."
I walked to the indicated location.
Finding the way wasn't difficult. It was the same square where Dang Seo-rin held her 'monster dissection shows,' commonly known as the execution square.
Despite the apocalypse, the well-maintained square was already bustling with the trial. It was grand. At a glance, about 600 citizens were sitting here and there, watching the trial.
"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"
"Quiet! Please be quiet!"
A Samcheon guild member's voice boomed.
It was probably amplified with a 'Voice Amplification' spell. Since no singing was heard, a 'Silence' spell must have been cast too.
'Considering the spell has a basic repeating magic function, it must be at least three chants. Dang Seo-rin seems to have put a lot of effort into this.'
I turned my gaze.
In the center of the square, a man who appeared to be the defendant stood with his head bowed. And Dang Seo-rin, the judge, was leisurely leaning her chin on her hand at the table.
'I've never seen a sight like this before.'
In my regression life, Dang Seo-rin holding public trials and passing judgments in front of citizens was unprecedented.
I watched the trial from a distance with interest. As the square quieted down, the guild member raised their voice.
"Please be quiet! I'll repeat! The defendant is a witch who joined Samcheon World six months ago and was assigned to the combat squad. However, during last week's expedition against the monsters, the defendant fled first, collapsing the front lines. This did not result in fatalities but caused two injuries, putting the combat squad in significant danger."
"Booooo!"
"You coward!"
Some citizens threw stones, but they couldn't reach the trial table, likely due to a protective barrier, and bounced off.
"Quiet, everyone! Now, the Great Witch Dang Seo-rin will pass judgment!"
Silence fell over the area.
The hundreds of citizens, who had been boisterous as if at a festival, fell silent.
If the measure of an artist is how many people they can entertain, then the measure of a ruler is how many they can silence. This scene showed the status of Dang Seo-rin as the guild leader in Busan.
"This defendant is a deserter."
Dang Seo-rin's voice flowed through the amplification spell. It was a stunningly beautiful voice.
Gentle and slow, yet the words flowed quickly, each complex term and sentence striking the listeners' ears.
Her voice wasn't just speech but rather a breath, filling the square's atmosphere.
The Samcheon World guild members looked at her with a dreamy reverence.
Well, it was somewhat cringe-inducing, but I understood their feelings as someone who had once been Dang Seo-rin's right hand. That voice was somewhat of a cheat.
"Deserters are usually dealt with by immediate execution. But in this case, there were no fatalities, and the deserter turned themselves in the next day. These factors should be considered."
"..."
"Deserter. Do you regret fleeing, putting your comrades at risk?"
"Yes, I'm sorry…."
"Can you promise never to make the same mistake again?"
"Of course, Great Witch. Absolutely…."
At that moment, blue 'scales' appeared above Dang Seo-rin's head.
The blue light wasn't like a neon sign but more like the bluish light of the stars scattered across the night sky, tracing the outline of the scales.
"Then, you can be forgiven. Neither I nor the witches of the Samcheon World, nor your comrades who had to cover for you, will hold [your desertion last week] against you."
Silently.
From Dang Seo-rin and the guild members' chests, and from the direction of the Samcheon World headquarters, black smoke―thin as thread, moving like snakes, crawled out.
The black threads gathered on the left side of the scales. With a clatter, the scales tipped heavily to one side.
"In return."
Dang Seo-rin waved her finger.
"From now on, [you cannot retreat from any battlefield first. Even if you must retreat, you can only do so after ensuring all your comrades have retreated]."
"Ah…"
"Not just your comrades. Citizens are included too. You can't withdraw until their safety is secured. In other words, [you will always be the last to retreat]."
"..."
"Do you agree?"
The defendant's face turned pale.
Battles with monsters were never safe. Jumping off a cliff with a wingsuit had better survival odds.
But for some reason?
The defendant's expression showed not only paleness but also a hint of relief, as if finally at peace.
"...Yes, Great Witch. I agree."
"Good."
Silently.
A white thread-like snake emerged from the defendant's body. It resembled a breath in the winter air. Not just from the mouth, but an exhale from the whole body.
The defendant looked up blankly at the white snake leaving his body. It coiled on the right side of the scales.
With a clatter, the scales balanced.
"The balance is achieved."
"Thank you… Thank you…."
"Now, fight for your comrades, and more importantly, for the citizens."
Ohh, some spectators let out a sound. Hundreds of citizens responded with applause.
"..."
The scene was a shock to me. The equivalent exchange, a seemingly useless grand spell, was now functioning as Busan's court.
This was why, even in future cycles, Busan rejected AI judges, unlike other cities.
It was because of Dang Seo-rin's 'witch trials.'
-x-X-x-
The Ruler IV
After the trial ended, we went out to eat Sundae stew.
I didn't particularly feel like going back to the guild building, and besides, my relationship with Dang Seo-rin was no longer just 'guild leader and vice guild leader' but more like 'foodie friends.'
And I couldn't hold back my question even before the assorted sundae platter arrived.
"Seo-rin, what was that back there?"
"Hmm? What?"
Dang Seo-rin tilted her head with a dumbfounded look. I frowned and handed her a small dish with some gochujang sauce.
"The trial, I mean. Since when did you start using equivalent exchange for judgments? It wasn't there the last time I visited."
"You just haven't been around Busan enough to notice. We've been doing it for nearly half a year now. Here, try this."
Dang Seo-rin handed me a small dish with a perfect mix of salt, pepper, and chili powder.
"The citizens really love it. These days, it's counted among Busan's top three attractions along with the monster dissection shows."
"What the…? Explain a bit more. Sir, can we get some Dongdongju here?"
"Coming right up!"
I took the jug of Dongdongju and mixed it with half a cup of iced water. This was Dang Seo-rin's favorite ratio. The prestige of having looked after a friend for hundreds of years came from such small gestures.
"What's there to explain? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. I just applied the Code of Hammurabi as it is."
"Hmm."
"When the country was still intact, we could throw everything into prison. But now, there are no prisons, right? Cutting off fingers or choking necks wastes valuable labor… So, I just arrange 'a revenge that everyone can agree on.'"
"...'Vengeance is mine; I will repay,' says the Lord."
"Huh?"
"It's from Romans 12:19. For heaven's sake. You do something ridiculous every time I look away."
"What? Are you picking a fight?"
"My sanity is what's being picked on. This is really absurd."
The assorted sundae, sundae stew, Dongdongju, and well-fermented kimchi disappeared beyond our chopsticks and bites. The meal was delicious—a proper feast only available in Busan these days.
"I think it was odd that old society tried to handle everything with prison sentences."
Dang Seo-rin raised her chopsticks.
"Think about it. How can theft and murder receive the same punishment? The feeling of losing your belongings versus getting stabbed is vastly different. There's a qualitative difference, you know, a difference in quality."
"Hmm."
"Theft varies, too. The feeling when today's food is stolen, when the radio you've kept secret from other survivors is taken, or when your kidney is stolen…"
"The last one counts as theft?"
"Of course. Anyway, punishment must vary according to the severity and circumstances, the character of the perpetrator and the victim. For instance, Jesus might turn the other cheek, but Undertaker, you'd probably consider it 'a fair deal' only after taking their cheek and a molar. Am I wrong?"
"I understand your point."
"And surprisingly… The greatest witch in history, the unparalleled and unique Dang Seo-rin, can arrange a fair deal for anyone."
At that moment, a little kid approached the restaurant and shyly held out a pointy hat, saying, "Great Witch!" Dang Seo-rin smiled brightly and signed the hat brim.
As soon as the fan service ended, Dang Seo-rin's face drooped like a sponge soaked in hot water. This happened wherever our idol of Busan went.
"So cute."
"But that fairness is just 'what you think is fair.' People can always judge wrongly."
"That's why equivalent exchange doesn't work without the other's consent. If they think the deal isn't fair, they just don't agree."
"Who would dare refuse a judgment from Busan's ruler?"
"In a world like this, they should be grateful I even hold trials. If I don't pass judgment, it's a witch hunt. Regardless of the crime, they end up dead. Isn't this better than death?"
"Hmm."
"If you're still uneasy, come observe the trial next month."
Dang Seo-rin grumbled.
"By the way, what have you been up to that you're so hard to see these days?"
"..."
...Honestly, I was a bit lost around this time.
If you're an astute reader, you might already have figured it out, but the 26th cycle was when the Swordmaster officially declared a 'vacation.'
When a teammate you believed would stick with you through the end of the world suddenly retires, it's like FC Barcelona after Lionel Messi's transfer. My mental state was like that.
I showed some embarrassing behavior as a regressor during this time… Let's skip the black history.
"Alright. I'll come again in a month."
"Yeah. Bring some Melona."
Exactly a month later, I arrived at Busan's 'execution square' with homemade Melona ice cream.
"Here you go."
"Oh, thanks… Wow! It looks just like Melona!"
Dang Seo-rin marveled at my culinary skills.
For the record, I could replicate nearly 92% of the taste of pre-apocalypse cup noodles, bagged noodles, and snacks. I got the recipes directly from the headquarters of snack companies, so you can trust me.
What? How else do you think a regressor spends all that time? This is the most productive hobby I could find.
"I reserved a good spot over there."
This time, I could watch the entire trial from a prime seating position.
As I sucked on a Melona—Dang Seo-rin, sitting at the trial bench, was also casually chewing on a Melona—I observed that surprisingly… Busan's witch trials were quite rational.
"You cut off someone's leg, so you'll serve the victim for life. [You'll follow all the tasks originally performed by both legs as directed by the victim]. You can't leave the victim's side without their permission. Do you agree?"
"The only remaining newspaper in Busan falsely accused a citizen, leading to their suicide. Though there's no family left to seek revenge, the damage to the newspaper's reputation must be repaired. From now on, all your actions must be recorded in a column of the newspaper. [All your past and future wrongdoings must be published accurately]. This will let everyone in Busan know what kind of person you are. Do you agree?"
"You didn't pay wages for work done. Labor is an investment of time. [For the exact same amount of time the victim worked, you'll follow their orders]. Of course, unreasonable orders like suicide aren't allowed. You'll eat the same food, sleep in the same bed, wake up, and rest at the same time as the victim. Do you agree?"
If civilization were intact, such judgments would be unthinkable.
Without Dang Seo-rin's magic, these deals could never be realized.
Her judgments were cruel and harsh― yet they held a strange persuasion, making hundreds of people in the vast square feel 'convinced.'
Each time a judgment was passed, the blue scales shimmered in the air.
The most impressive trial was for the defendant who had killed someone, a murder trial.
"..."
Dang Seo-rin chewed on the popsicle stick from her finished Melona.
On one side stood the murderer, on the other, the bereaved family. Her dark blue eyes scanned them.
"Do you regret the murder?"
"...Yes."
"Are you genuinely sorry to the bereaved?"
"Yes… I am sorry…."
"Then, [you must endure whatever the bereaved do to you without resisting]. You can't complain or express your grievances. You just have to accept it."
"..."
"Do you agree?"
"..."
The silence was quite long. Despite the lengthy pause, the moment the defendant nodded was surprisingly short.
"Yes. I agree. Please… please do that, Great Witch."
The scales gleamed.
"You bastard!"
At that moment, a family member jumped the fence and lunged at the defendant. Thud! The sound of a fist shattering bone echoed clearly in my ears.
"How could you! You killed our child! You promised to marry her, how could you! Bastard! Son of a bitch!"
In normal circumstances, someone would've intervened. In a pre-apocalypse court, security would have stopped it.
But in the execution square, no one stopped the family. Other relatives who followed began to kick the defendant on the ground.
Busan had clear visibility since most high-rise buildings were demolished. The red sunset reflected off the sea, bouncing back to the city as it always had.
In the execution square, under the blood-red sky, the defendant's blood drops fell around. Soon, the breathing stopped.
"..."
And in that moment― I was struck by the intense realization that all this might just be an external reflection of Dang Seo-rin's inner world.
While all spectators watched the bereaved family's punishment, I alone turned my head to look at Dang Seo-rin.
She was looking at me, too.
Between us, the sunset was deep red.
There's an epilogue.
I don't believe I have the right to judge everything in the world.
So, I didn't stop Dang Seo-rin's 'witch trials.' She had her own rationality and fairness.
Also, to be fair, her rationality and fairness were the best possible in the apocalypse.
Other cities? Private sanctions based on the guild leader's personal gain. And even AI judges weren't introduced until much later.
Not just in the 26th cycle, but in every cycle I shared the completed 'equivalent exchange' spell, Dang Seo-rin consistently held witch trials.
"So… how was it?"
"What do you mean?"
"The trial."
We had returned to the train of the Samcheon guild and were drinking.
Usually, we would visit various places to maintain our friendship.
But if Dang Seo-rin said, "Let's drink on the train tonight," it meant she wanted to get really drunk.
As the ruler of Busan and the leader of the Korean guild alliance, as well as the progenitor of song magic, the Great Witch couldn't afford to show herself drunk and stumbling on the streets. Not even in front of guild members.
It took someone like me, who defeated the Ten Legs and recaptured the Han River south of Seoul, or a teacher with many disciples through SG Net, for Dang Seo-rin to not lose her authority when hanging out together.
"I think it's fine."
"What part is fine?"
"Everything seems fine, just by the fact that you're asking someone else if it's okay."
"Fuf."
Dang Seo-rin laughed.
"What's that? Silly."
But her expression visibly relaxed.
While I endured a drunk friend's ramblings for a while, Dang Seo-rin suddenly activated the equivalent exchange spell.
"Undertaker, put what you think of me on the scales."
"What? Are you a child…? Are you asking like a parent who asks if you like mom or dad more?"
"Ah, come on. Just put it on. Do you agree?"
I sighed and said, "Alright."
Then, from my chest, a shadowy, radiant snake tail emerged.
Dang Seo-rin twirled her finger. From her heart area, a white thread-like snake crawled and coiled on the other side of the scales.
Screech—
An impossible noise sounded as the scales slowly balanced. Soon, they reached perfect equilibrium.
Dang Seo-rin smirked like a cat.
"Hmm."
"What is that?"
In the night, the scales Dang Seo-rin created glowed faintly like starlight, and the Milky Way shimmered outside the window.
It was a Meteor Shower.
With the rain of stars as a backdrop, Dang Seo-rin smiled brightly.
"A secret."
It was a truly witch-like answer.
-x-X-x-
The Puppeteer I
I occasionally use the term 'route.'
This is because I often liken my journey to prevent the world's destruction to mountain climbing.
Mountaineers who ascend the Himalayas often refer to the paths they take as 'routes.' I, too, borrow their terminology to describe my own strategies.
The grand premise of a regressor.
'How can one prevent destruction?'
How can one conquer the summit of the 'Everest of time' that no human has ever reached?
Throughout my 1183 cycles of regression, there have indeed been countless routes.
For example, from the 35th cycle to the 107th cycle, the paths I tried to pioneer were the 'Civilization Rebuilding Route' or the 'Revival Route.' For this ascent, the members of my climbing team were as follows:
1) The presence of a 'Saintess' who could observe all awakeners within the radius and maintain a very high moral standard.
2) The presence of 'Seo Gyu' with the ubiquitous ability to maintain SG Net, a community where all awakeners could participate anytime, anywhere, regardless of their segmented activity ranges.
3) The presence of 'Noh Do-hwa,' a national road management corps leader who could connect and maintain road networks between city bases without political corruption.
4) The presence of someone who could mediate and lead them all, always diligent, a modern-day knight in shining armor, in other words, me, the Undertaker.
Those who have followed my story thus far would agree that my preparation was methodical and thorough.
Even in the situation where we lost Old Man Scho, the strongest swordsman and the ultimate joker, I pride myself on having done my best.
However, the 'Revival Route' collapsed in an instant.
-Please remember, Undertaker.
-The abilities of awakeners are not purely blessings. They are double-edged swords.
Codename, Saintess.
Her codename after falling, Executioner.
The appearance of this being completely derailed the route I had planned.
-If awakeners become so accustomed to their abilities that they are consumed by them, they will become monstrous like me.
-20 years. Ideally, before 15 years approach, you must restore the world to its original form. Please remember, Undertaker.
That's right.
Awakeners were never the complete opposites of monsters. They were of the same kind. If monsters were beings born from the void, awakeners were nurturing monsters in their minds and hearts.
Dang Seo-rin. Noh Do-hwa. Cheon Yo-hwa. Sword Marquess.
The abilities they possessed, miracles unattainable by ordinary humans, were not just blessings but also curses.
By now, some readers might be starting to understand why I had to struggle through 1183 cycles.
Exactly. To catch monsters, you need awakeners, but if an awakener becomes too powerful, they turn into a colossal monster. It's as if the world itself is—
'Do you perhaps enjoy bleak stories? In fact, I do enjoy them very much. Bleak.'
'Here, I've made a bleak stew that's quite delicious. Would you like to try just one spoonful…?'
It's like they shyly ask, forcing their preferences on others.
You might think, "What kind of lunatic would do such a thing?" Unfortunately, the world's unreasonable fate doesn't end here.
But for now, I'll set aside the regressor's complaints.
Today, I want to talk briefly about the first route I ever established.
Called the 'A Route.'
The first route in my regressor life, also known as the 'Academy Route.'
Unlike other routes, the 'A Route' was uniquely co-created by Old Man Scho and me.
It was before Old Man Scho went on his damned vacation (seriously, if that old man ever comes back).
"Hey, Embalmer."
Old Man Scho said while lifting a dumbbell.
Why he suddenly picked up a dumbbell was beyond me. After all, Old Man Scho was always pumping iron 24/7.
For reference, Embalmer is another name for the Undertaker. Old Man Scho sometimes called me that, not out of respect for my alias, but to sneak in a nuance of 'damn' into the pronunciation. Damn old man.
"Why?"
"Have you heard the news?"
"What news?"
"In Fukuoka… No, kid, why is your tone like that? Huh? Talking back to an elder with that kind of attitude."
The exact time was the 18th cycle.
At this point, Old Man Scho's mental state was still intact. Of course, even when Old Man Scho was sane, he was just an added German tyrant to the world.
Here's a surprising fact: that old man graduated from art school.
Doesn't it sound off?
Anyone who knows history can guess what kind of sentence emerges when 'Germany' combines with 'art school.'
"Did you leave your brain cells behind during your last regression...? Anyway, what about Fukuoka?"
"Oh, right. I heard an interesting awakener has appeared in Fukuoka. Codename Puppeteer."
"Puppeteer? What's their ability?"
"Who knows. Awakeners usually keep their abilities tightly under wraps. I only heard that the committee courted them several times."
Old Man Scho tapped his nose. It was annoying.
"But I have a feeling. Puppeteer must be exceptional."
"Oh, that feeling."
"Why? My intuition is usually right."
In subculture works, there's a concept called 'Academy Drift.'
It refers to when a perfectly good work suddenly takes a detour with the protagonist enrolling in an academy, often leading to the work's decline.
However, there was a very rational reason why Old Man Scho and I established and ran an academy.
"We need to recruit them."
It was to gather promising talents.
It was nearly impossible for Old Man Scho and me alone to prevent the world's destruction.
So we needed to form the most powerful party possible to at least flip off the world that constantly cooked bleak stews.
Even when recruiting talent.
-Would you join our guild and serve us?
-Would you like to enroll in an academy and receive lessons from experts?
There was a significant difference in the tone between these two invitations.
Especially for Asians. Including Koreans, many Asians had a perverse obsession that got excited by words like 'education,' 'entrance exam,' and 'prestige.'
To study and succeed in a guild was merely a power play, but to enter an academy and study well was seen as self-discipline, filial piety, and patriotism.
There was no reason not to exploit such a good culture.
Old Man Scho put up the signboard of 'Academy Principal' instead of the rigid title of guild master. I took the position of vice-principal.
We even added some seasoning to it.
-Academy run by a German!
-Proven skills from the Ten Legs Raid. Guaranteed by Sword Star and Undertaker.
The slogan of a foreigner-run academy with pure German blood was practically a brainwashing ray for Asians.
By the way, the name of our educational institution was Freedom Academy, in German, Freiheit Academy.
If Germans had seen it, they might have raised their eyebrows at the institution that oddly emphasized 'pure blood' and 'freedom.' One of the most famous buildings built by Germans had the slogan 'Arbeit macht frei' (Work sets you free) at its entrance.
Fortunately, Old Man Scho was a supporter of the Social Democratic Party. People trusted the specialized foreign awakener academy without any hesitation.
Creating an organization that we called a guild but read as an academy to selectively extract promising awakeners from various countries.
This was the essence of the 'A Route.'
"What. If they are really outstanding, we should recruit them. So, are you planning to go to Fukuoka to recruit this Puppeteer? Do ferries still operate these days?"
"If there's a will, there's a way. A scholar who wants to go will find a way. How could I not get even a single ferry?"
"Even if you safely cross the Korean Strait, the Japanese won't let you take their awakener easily. They're in a rush too."
"It's fine. They're not Japanese but Korean."
"What?"
"Originally from Busan, they quickly evacuated as soon as the gate opened."
"But why evacuate to there… It's not like monsters are North Korean soldiers. It's hell there and here alike."
"Who knows? It's only been three years."
"Oh."
I took a moment of silence.
"…But if it's Fukuoka, are they involved with the Provisional Government there? You'll be in trouble if you get entangled with them."
"No idea. Do you think I'm omniscient?"
"Hmmm. So, when are you planning to go?"
"Well, when are you planning to go?"
"…?"
"…?"
We exchanged glances.
"…?"
"…?"
Communication, failure.
We silently raised our swords. We deeply respected the traditional method that humanity had always chosen when communication failed since ancient times.
Five minutes passed.
"Have a safe trip, Embalmer."
"Damn it…"
"Where are you trying to defeat a Swordmaster with such poor swordsmanship? Ah, if you see any instant ramen on the way, get some. Preferably tonkotsu. Isn't Fukuoka famous for its tonkotsu? Let's treat our stomachs."
I had no choice. At that time, I was still weaker than Old Man Scho.
Dragging my bruised body, I pathetically left the principal's office.
[The Saintess of National Salvation is cheering for you.]
I gave a bitter smile.
'As expected, the only one on my side is a constellation.'
Of course, in the 18th cycle, I didn't know the constellation's true identity as an awakener. My relationship with the Saintess was close to what is known as parasocialism.
"Only the constellation understands me. I'll be on a short business trip to Japan, so please take care of that old man."
[The Saintess of National Salvation cheers you not to worry.]
"Constellation…!"
To give a similar example, it was like a fan getting overly attached to a Vtuber.
Why? After all, the constellation genre also originated from internet streaming platforms. This much was a healthy hobby.
Hmm.
…It was an immature time in many ways.
Even if my memory classified it as a dark history, to others, the awakener known as 'Undertaker' was undoubtedly a person of interest.
Old Man Scho. Dang Seo-rin. Undertaker.
No matter what, the main characters of the Ten Legs Raid were the three of us.
And it was the first case in the world where boss-level monsters were subjugated purely by a private organization, not government-led.
Korea originally had a tradition where militias received buffs over regular armies, so it wasn't strange.
Of course, if we were to rank purely by popularity domestically and internationally:
Dang Seo-rin > Old Man Scho ≧ Undertaker
would be the order.
If Old Man Scho and my fame fluctuated, Dang Seo-rin always maintained the top spot.
She was the leader of the Korean Guild Union (the name varied slightly by cycle). More importantly, her character overwhelmed both Old Man Scho and me.
A witch singing on the battlefield? Isn't that a cheat? How could two swordsmen compete with that?
Simply put, once you saw Dang Seo-rin singing a four-part a cappella on the battlefield, everyone would think she was amazing. Especially when her song provided buff doping without side effects.
Ah, already the Korean awakeners couldn't go to boss raids without Dang Seo-rin's song…
Anyway.
In Korea, my position was the second-in-command, occasionally falling to third when Old Man Scho unleashed his ultimate potential.
"Welcome to Japan, Undertaker!"
Even that level of position was enough to attract a swarm of flies.
"Waaaaaa!"
"Welcome to Busan!"
"Undertaker! Undertaker! Undertaker!"
As soon as I landed at the port, nearly three hundred people cheered in unison. It was more of an army than flies.
Moreover, they vigorously waved banners instead of wings. The banners were emblazoned with symbols like:
[★Pride of Korea, Awakener Undertaker★]
[Welcome to Busan!]
[All members of the Second Provisional Government of Korea]
Ah.
My head hurt.
'Busan? You idiots…'
Let me explain.
Of course, I had sailed from Busan to Fukuoka, Japan. I didn't return to Busan after a tour of the Korean Strait.
It wasn't my destination that had gone crazy but their minds.
Fukuoka (福岡).
Reading the Chinese characters, it means 'prosperous hill.' The second character (岡) signifies a mountain or hill.
So, these flies before me decided to call Fukuoka 'Busan.' Ignoring the perfectly good city name.
It was akin to telling Native Americans, 'From now on, you're Indians.'
The even more ridiculous point was that Japan already had a city called Toyama (富山), which could be phonetically rendered as 'Busan.'
In short, these people were being triple nuisances to Busan, Fukuoka, and Toyama.
Why on earth?
"Ahaha. Welcome, Undertaker!"
The middle-aged man at the front of the welcoming crowd explained everything.
Mayor Jung.
Real name Jung Sang-guk.
He wasn't the current mayor. In Korea, the public servant job had been abolished along with elementary, middle, high schools, and universities long ago.
Jung Sang-guk was the 'former' mayor of 'Busan.'
Currently, he was also the head of the Second Provisional Government of Korea.
When a massive void swept over the south of the Han River, causing the Blue House and National Assembly to reconcile and start a grand coalition towards heaven, Sejong and Busan were the remaining city bases to stabilize the situation.
The public servants in Sejong attempted to control the military (and they, too, amicably departed to the bellies of the Ten Legs).
Meanwhile, Mayor Jung Sang-guk of Busan chose a more traditional approach.
-Citizens, what kind of people are we?
-Uh… The people of delivery?
-No, we are the people of Terran.
Jung Sang-guk lifted his supporters and organization, relocating them like a command center.
His generation found this joke quite fitting, and the citizens were impressed.
If Kim Il-sung, the founder of the Daedonggang faction, could only practice teleportation alone, Jung Sang-guk managed a mass teleportation. It was proof that the Nakdonggang faction inherited the martial arts of Samhan. His methods were different.
Now, Koreans acknowledged Jung Sang-guk's name value on par with Admiral Won Gyun and Prime Minister Lee Wan-yong of the Korean Empire.
Considering Koreans' typically stringent evaluation of politicians, this was no small feat.
By nature, all politicians are strictly idealists.
Politicians believed that even if they lacked legitimacy in reality, they could always borrow from ideals. So did Jung Sang-guk.
The exile group became a 'government-in-exile,' which suddenly transformed into the 'Second Provisional Government of Korea.' Jung Sang-guk's business card changed accordingly, now reading 'Prime Minister of the Second Provisional Government of Korea.'
On the day he was elected Prime Minister, Fukuoka was renamed Busan. Thus, Jung Sang-guk also acquired the title of 'Mayor of Busan' as the representative of the Fukuoka Korean Association.
It was madness.
And now I was invited to this mad show.
It was common grammar worldwide for fallen politicians to cling to war heroes.
"I have long admired you, Mr. Undertaker!"
Jung Sang-guk, who once boasted a StarCraft ladder score of 2150 as a Terran user, beamed brightly and hugged me.
Following the Prime Minister of the Second Provisional Government, the ministers of foreign affairs, finance, justice, and internal affairs all shook my hand. It was a very orderly mechanical hug.
I smiled mechanically as well, and inwardly assigned modern MZ-generation nicknames like damn, fuck, damn it to the provisional government ministers.
'Damn old man. This is why I didn't want to come to Fukuoka for a business trip.'
Kuk-ku-ku.
From afar, I heard Old Man Scho's laughter and a hallucination of 'yeah, your swordsmanship is weak.' Damn it
-x-X-x-
The Puppeteer II
To put it bluntly, I had no respect for the Second Provisional Government. I respected my eye crust more and didn't want to be unnecessarily rude.
The problem was the Fukuoka city government.
The ones who leaked the information about my visit to the provisional government were likely from that side.
At this point, unlike the Korean Peninsula, the governmental organizations in the Japanese archipelago hadn't completely collapsed yet.
Therefore, they had the luxury to hold on to the "provisional government" coin without discarding it.
Who knows? This coin might rocket to Mars' atmosphere.
It was an extremely irrational judgment, but gamblers are often resistant to rational persuasion. Moreover, the Japanese had the sweet success story of the Lee Wan-yong coin etched in their minds.
The point when the Japanese government began regaining its rationality was much later, with the descent of the eight million monstrosities. It was a good trade, except for the price of offering heads, arms, torsos, legs, and innards for wisdom.
I would eventually take down a monstrosity called Inunaki... but all these tales are for later.
It wasn't yet a realized future.
Therefore, for now, I had to consider Fukuoka's authorities' dignity.
My task was to abduct an A-class awakener residing in Fukuoka without causing a fuss. Provoking the locals would be foolish.
Of course, in my 180th cycle, I could have kidnapped the Puppeteer without caring about politics, but at this point, I was merely a novice in my 18th cycle.
What could I do? Sometimes, you have to do dirty work.
"Haha. To have a patriot like you supporting our provisional government feels like gaining a thousand troops!"
"Oh, support is too grand a word. I just want to share the hardships of my compatriots abroad during these tough times."
"Ahaha, I see. Truly humble! Here! Please accept a drink, Mr. Undertaker!"
In the end, I spent the night drinking with the provisional government officials. While Jung Sang-guk might have enjoyed the 'sweet conversations with the war hero Undertaker' more than the alcohol.
Anyway, I sang his praises enough to make Jung Sang-guk satisfied.
"By the way... what brings you to Fukuoka?"
"Ah, it's more of a business matter than official duty."
"Oh, in these times, what's the difference between business and official duty? Any business you undertake is practically a national project. Please, do tell me."
"Your words put me at ease. I'm looking for an awakener known by the codename Puppeteer who resides in Fukuoka. Do you know of them?"
"...Puppeteer?"
For the first time, Jung Sang-guk stuttered.
"Yes, Puppeteer."
"...I know them very well. But why...?"
"As you know, I run a small academy, a training facility exclusively for awakeners. I'd like to see this Puppeteer in person and, if suitable, invite them to enroll in our academy."
"I see..."
The former mayor of Busan stared at me and muttered.
"...Maybe this is for the best."
It was a murmur whose meaning eluded me. The silence between us stretched for a couple of seconds before Jung Sang-guk awkwardly broke it.
"Do you smoke?"
I was a staunch anti-smoker, but that question was a signal for a private chat outside.
For that, I could temporarily sacrifice my lung health. Some people even abandoned their homeland, so what was a little smoke?
"Yes, I am desperate for one."
"Let's go. I can't stand the heat, need some fresh air."
We left the bar and polluted the night sky of the city.
As the level of fine dust in Fukuoka rose appropriately, a rather remarkable sight unfolded.
"Oh. A shooting star."
"Oh? Really."
A few meteors fell from the night sky. It was more of a sprinkle than a meteor shower.
Soon the cosmic rain ceased. Jung Sang-guk, however, was barely looking at the meteors, nervously glancing around.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm envious of you, Mr. Undertaker."
"Sorry?"
"Sometimes I imagine how great it would be if I were an awakener."
Jung Sang-guk pulled out a portable ashtray with trembling hands and stubbed his cigarette into it.
In that gesture, I didn't see his neatness but rather the survival instinct of someone living abroad.
If he had carelessly flicked the ash on the streets of Fukuoka, passing Japanese might wonder, 'Does this Korean think of our land as an ashtray?'
"Puppeteer is my daughter."
I was so focused on the portable ashtray that I reacted a bit late.
"...What?"
"Puppeteer, Ha-yul. Lee Ha-yul. She's my daughter. If you take her, please take good care of her."
This was unexpected.
Just as I was about to ponder the peculiarities of fate, I quickly came up with a question.
"Wait a moment. Aren't you Mr. Jung? Pardon me for asking, but if your daughter's surname is Lee..."
"Ah. She took her mother's surname."
Could it be that he believed a child should inherit not only the father's surname but also the mother's?
But my imagination was too limited.
The former mayor of Busan smiled. It seemed a forced smile.
"She's my second... a hidden daughter."
Damn.
The first day's schedule ended.
After that, I had 2 nights and 3 days of alone time. The provisional government had arranged my accommodation.
'He's something else, alright.'
Even with the country falling apart, he managed to flee abroad with his second family. A true hero who could even use teleportation had to be different.
Long ago, when Emperor Gaozu of Han was defeated by the demonic Xiang Yu and had to flee, he was forced to climb onto a carriage.
At that time, Liu Bang threw his children off the carriage, claiming it was overweight. Those who had played RPGs would understand that having a full inventory was an unforgivable sin for a player.
However, in the game of the Chu-Han Contention, children were designated as essential items, and a warning popped up, saying, [It's unacceptable to discard them!]. He failed to abandon them in the end.
This is why people need to learn martial arts. If Liu Bang had mastered the teleportation technique like Jung Sang-guk, he could have committed such atrocities without relying on a weak carriage.
"Mr. Undertaker, are you there?"
Knock, knock.
Just as I was testing the boundary between meditation and daydreaming, a martial arts master visited. It was our first reunion in two days.
Jung Sang-guk handed me a piece of paper with Puppeteer's address written on it.
His appearance was odd. Despite the warm spring day, he wore gloves and had a rather strong fragrance.
He even declined to accompany me to Puppeteer's house.
"Why? Aren't you coming with me?"
"I'm sorry."
Jung Sang-guk smiled awkwardly.
It was a smile unbecoming of a politician. His expression was stiffer than it had been at the drinking party.
"My daughter is going through a strong rebellious phase these days..."
"But wouldn't you be worried about me meeting your daughter alone?"
"Oh, no. Not at all. Besides, there's a housekeeper at Ha-yul's place, so it's fine."
"Hmm."
"More importantly, I talked to Ha-yul about you yesterday. You don't need to worry."
"Got it. See you in the evening."
Actually.
I should have noticed the oddity then.
If Jung Sang-guk's second family was functioning properly, the housekeeper wouldn't be there but rather his daughter's biological mother.
Moreover, it was strange that someone who had struggled so hard to win my favor suddenly refused to accompany me.
But what could I do?
I checked the address and asked locals for directions, eventually arriving at Lee Ha-yul's house.
Knock, knock—I knocked on the door handle attached to the entrance (few people used electronic doorbells due to electricity conservation) to announce my visit.
"Is anyone home?"
Knock, knock.
"Hello, I'm the Undertaker. I'm here on Mr. Jung Sang-guk's recommendation. Is anyone home?"
Knock, knock.
"..."
It was purely my experience as a regressor who had gone through countless hardships that made me sense the foreboding then.
I turned the doorknob. It was unlocked.
"..."
As I stepped into the foyer, my sight was filled with cobwebs.
The corridors, living room, and first-floor staircase of the house were covered in giant cobwebs. Like an abandoned house.
No matter how hard life abroad was or how illegitimate a child, it was too odd for the daughter of the head of the provisional government to live in such conditions.
'No, are these even cobwebs? They are too big.'
Rustle—
Something was under my shoe. A doll.
Distracted by the cobwebs, I hadn't noticed the dolls placed all around the house.
"Lee Ha-yul?"
I carefully navigated the house, avoiding the dolls.
Figures, Russian matryoshka dolls, Japanese Ichimatsu dolls, Barbie dolls, ball-jointed dolls, stuffed dolls, paper flower dolls.
Literally a house of dolls.
Or perhaps a spider's nest.
A woman in her 40s, presumed to be the housekeeper, was found dead, hanged by cobwebs in the second-floor bedroom.
"..."
I was used to corpses. I didn't panic, but seeing the 13 dolls surrounding the corpse as if in prayer was a first.
It wasn't the only first.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
Dolls attached to strings moved up and down around the corpse.
Like playing on a seesaw at a playground.
I had no idea what kind of mechanism it was, but the strings wrapped around the dolls' wrists extended to the corpse's 'jaw' and 'hands.'
So, as the dolls moved up and down, the corpse's jaw clicked, and the fingers wiggled weirdly. Yes. Like a nutcracker.
"What the...?"
The stench was overwhelming.
Judging by the rigor mortis, she had been dead for over 30 hours. At least 30 hours, but it felt much longer.
That was strange.
Over 30 hours meant it wasn't yesterday but the day before.
Moreover, Jung Sang-guk had testified that he met his daughter yesterday and told her about me. So, the housekeeper was already dead by then?
'Strange.'
I instinctively felt that Jung Sang-guk had lied to me.
Especially the gloves. His out-of-season gloves bothered me.
I left the 'house of dolls' and returned to my lodging. I planned to gather my belongings and track down Jung Sang-guk.
Soon, it turned out I didn't need to.
Jung Sang-guk's corpse was hanging from cobwebs in the middle of my lodging.
"..."
How?
Something was off. No, it was dangerous. Even though Jung Sang-guk was a powerless traitor, finding his body in my room was bad news.
My mind quickly cooled.
A familiar sensation.
I acted swiftly.
'I need to handle this.'
Fwoosh—!
Without investigating further, I immediately incinerated the body. Completely. Using all my aura to erase any trace, including my own.
Only someone who had accumulated inner power over multiple cycles like me could perform such a feat effortlessly.
'59 seconds.'
I grabbed a book and walked out of the lodging casually. I greeted the staff brightly on purpose.
To them, I would appear as 'a guest who briefly entered and left the room.' It would be hard to believe that a body was incinerated in such a short time.
Now, I only had to worry about witnesses. Anyone who might have seen Jung Sang-guk enter my room.
No need to worry about CCTV. Nowadays, CCTV was rare. Not because of electricity but because they were prone to being infected by monstrosities, making people avoid them.
I asked the lodging staff, 'Have you seen Mr. Jung?' They shook their heads, saving their lives.
So far, four minutes had passed.
While not a perfect alibi, it was sufficient for plausible deniability.
I hadn't committed any murder.
That was the truth.
And I was strong.
The power of truth sometimes wielded sharp blades even in the hands of the weak. In the hands of the strong, it was unmatched.
'Scho, old man. I'll make sure to charge you well for this trip.'
I headed back to the house of dolls.
This time stealthily, without anyone noticing.
―Circumstantially, the 'culprit' was almost certainly Jung Sang-guk's illegitimate daughter, Lee Ha-yul.
Evidence was unnecessary. I was neither a detective nor a cop. I was a regressor. I could verify evidence in other cycles.
What mattered now was to gather as much information as possible about the culprit, Lee Ha-yul, to gain an advantage in future cycles.
It turned out to be necessary.
At the entrance, I found an awakener with bright chestnut hair, presumably Lee Ha-yul, dead.
"..."
Lee Ha-yul was in a wheelchair, stabbed in the chest by a knife held by a doll.
I first realized then that the Puppeteer was a legless girl.
Without ever having heard her voice and knowing I would never hear it in the 18th cycle, I covered my forehead with my left hand before her corpse.
"That damned old man..."
Really.
I would charge a high price for this trip.
-x-X-x-
The Puppeteer III
As I mentioned earlier, I was neither a detective nor a cop. My deductions spanned both the past and the future.
That was why I could pull off such tricks.
"Puppeteer is my daughter."
"What?"
"Puppeteer. Ha-yul. Lee Ha-yul. She's my daughter."
19th cycle.
I deliberately followed the same steps as the previous cycle and came to Fukuoka.
Unless the butterfly effect intervened, the law of causality was strict. Jung Sang-guk, just as he did in the last cycle, said, "I'll contact my daughter. Please wait at the lodging for a few days."
The difference in the 19th cycle was that instead of eagerly heading to the lodging to enjoy the hot springs, this time, I secretly followed Jung Sang-guk.
A detective who catches only the crime without deducing the criminal's past is third-rate. A detective who reveals the past events that led to the criminal's wayward path is merely second-rate.
A true first-rate detective tracks the crime to unfold and witnesses all the causes in real-time.
Is that even a detective? If you're upset about it, awaken the regression ability. The contract condition is that you must slay the Ten Legs and other monstrosities. It's that simple, right?
Knock, knock.
Jung Sang-guk headed to the 'House of Dolls' as soon as the drinking party ended. After a few knocks, the housekeeper appeared.
So far, everything was normal.
The abnormality began immediately after.
"I'm back."
Bowing, Jung Sang-guk lowered his head.
It was Jung Sang-guk, not the housekeeper, who bowed. Jung Sang-guk bowed to the housekeeper.
I couldn't help but widen my eyes. Then, just as my mouth was about to drop open, the housekeeper spoke.
"Come in."
"Yes."
The Prime Minister of the Second Provisional Government of Korea followed the housekeeper inside as if it were natural.
"...."
What on earth was going on?
Feeling as if I had seen a ghost, I clung close to the 'House of Dolls.'
Though my sight was blocked by the wall, my aura-enhanced hearing assisted my eavesdropping.
"How was the meeting?"
"Uneventful."
"What's Undertaker's goal?"
"He wants to take Ms. Ha-yul to the academy."
Murmur.
Their voices carried through the wall. Jung Sang-guk spoke with utmost respect but also with a hint of fear, while the housekeeper was cold and mechanical.
"Academy?"
That voice, precisely speaking, pronounced 'a/ca/de/my' in a segmented manner.
"Yes. He aims to gather and train talented awakeners like Ms. Ha-yul."
"...."
Ms. Ha-yul?
He called his own daughter 'Ms. Ha-yul'?
"I received the curriculum. Here. I read through it once, and it seems quite plausible. Sword Star is the principal, the Undertaker is the vice-principal, and Dang Seo-rin is an honorary professor…"
"So?"
"Excuse me?"
"Did you accept it?"
"No, no! How could I? I couldn't make such a decision alone, so I arranged for him to stay at an inn in the city. He'll stay put for about two days."
Silence.
"He left during the meeting."
"…Excuse me?"
"He went out during the drinking party. Alone with the Undertaker. What did you talk about?"
"Ah… Just stepped out for a smoke. Nothing much."
"Liar."
A chill ran down my spine.
'How does she know that?'
There was definitely no one around when Jung Sang-guk and I talked alone. Could it be that someone from the provisional government at the party leaked information to the housekeeper?
Was this seemingly ordinary middle-aged housekeeper really the one pulling the strings behind the provisional government?
The questions didn't last long. Soon, crucial testimony spilled from Jung Sang-guk's mouth.
"Come down. Downstairs."
At the command to come downstairs, Jung Sang-guk, who had maintained his composure, began to panic.
"Please, believe me! Ms. Ha-yul! Please, I beg you! Just spare the Doll Room!"
My jaw dropped.
"Lee Ha-yul!"
There was no mistake. Jung Sang-guk had addressed the housekeeper as 'Ms. Ha-yul.'
It made no sense unless Jung Sang-guk was senile and couldn't tell his daughter's face from the housekeeper's.
There was no way the housekeeper and Lee Ha-yul were the same person. The housekeeper was in her 40s. In contrast, the corpse of Lee Ha-yul I saw in the previous cycle couldn't have been older than her early 20s.
Thus.
'Lee Ha-yul was controlling the housekeeper!'
Puppeteer.
Whoever gave her that name was spot on. I surmised that Lee Ha-yul had the ability to control people.
The housekeeper was a marionette. A puppet of Lee Ha-yul.
And not just the housekeeper.
I recalled the 'countless requests for handshakes' from the provisional government officials when I arrived in Fukuoka. The ministers of foreign affairs, finance, justice, and the interior. Their hugs felt strangely stiff.
'Are the high-ranking officials of the provisional government marionettes too? All of them? Or only some? If only some, how far?'
In the 18th cycle, I had never imagined this truth, and it struck me like a shockwave.
In some sense, Old Man Scho was right.
"Come down. I've said it twice."
"Please, please…"
The plea was cut off.
Jung Sang-guk could no longer articulate words. Only faint sounds like 'ugh- heok, guk-' could be heard.
The human ear was not so precise. Understanding everything by sound alone was difficult, but I could guess that Jung Sang-guk's mouth was blocked by something.
"Hmmph…"
Jung Sang-guk struggled.
Given that an adult man couldn't put up a proper fight, it was likely he was subdued by some abnormal means.
Cobwebs.
I recalled the cobwebs that had bound the housekeeper and Jung Sang-guk's corpses. And the cobwebs that covered the House of Dolls.
Perhaps they weren't cobwebs but 'puppet strings.'
"Hmmph…"
The sound of a body being dragged. The vibrations from the first floor gradually subsided.
I quickly understood the situation. Jung Sang-guk was being dragged to the basement by the housekeeper.
There was no more sound to be heard. The walls were too thick. My aura, accumulated over the 18 cycles, could only reach so far.
The basement. That must be the true lair of the Puppeteer.
Once again, my decision was swift.
I decided to break in.
An outstanding awakener has an exceptional memory. To survive the void, you must know how to remember various rules.
There is a proverb that is almost like common knowledge.
-A well-built awakener's lair is comparable to the void.
Personally, I think it's somewhat exaggerated, but it means to be cautious.
For example, every train Dang Seo-rin used as her lair had a robust security system.
Unwelcome guests who entered without a 'train ticket' would learn how wonderful a killing machine a train could be.
This place was no different.
The 'House of Dolls' I visited in the last cycle was already an empty shell left after its owner died.
When I visited the first time, the Puppeteer must have deliberately lifted the security. They needed me to witness the housekeeper's death and return to the lodging.
-Click, click, click.
In other words, this was the first time I had set foot in the lair of the House of Dolls in its true sense.
The clicking noise echoed from all directions as soon as I burst through the door. The dolls were making the noise.
Entrance. Hallway. Ceiling.
Marionettes hung by puppet strings fiercely moved their jaws.
Along with the clicking of the jaws, the dolls' joints creaked. Their blue, black, yellow, and red eyes rotated.
-Click, click, click, click.
A territorial marking. A signal to alert of an intruder.
And preprogrammed movements to eliminate impurities.
The marionettes' movements were clearly meticulously calculated.
Their joints creaked like piano keys, the strings swayed, and a faint golden aura was present in the puppet strings.
'Aura!'
At the time, the only ones who had mastered the use of aura were Old Man Scho and me. It was a specialty of the Freiheit Academy.
The puppet show unfolding before me was solely self-taught.
'Not only can she control people, but she can also imbue the puppet strings with aura!'
I was impressed but didn't hesitate.
Like the famous opening scene of the movie Cube, semi-transparent threads tightened from all directions. Any ordinary human would be dismembered just by touching them.
Fortunately or unfortunately, my life was far from ordinary.
I jumped in headfirst without using a sword, wrapping my entire body in aura.
Swish—slash, slash, slash! The puppet strings, charging with killing intent, snapped as soon as they touched my body.
-Click, click, click, click.
The dolls moved even more frantically. The mass of cobwebs multiplied exponentially.
But it was useless.
Old Man Scho had evaluated me as '5th rate in martial talent, but top-class in aura talent.' It was as if my external skills were compensated by internal energy.
And I had the [Resume] skill. A skill that carried over my physical abilities, including muscle strength and other body capabilities, into the next cycle.
That included the amount of aura.
In martial arts terms, by the 19th cycle, my internal energy had already surpassed a full 60 years.
Crack!
I reached out and crushed the head of a doll. The dolls swung up and down on the strings but couldn't escape my grasp.
No matter how power-crazed the monstrosities of this world were, 60 years of cultivation was a lifetime achievement for a human.
I had spent that lifetime on the battlefield.
The awakeners entrenched in the relatively safe rear of Fukuoka couldn't withstand my life.
-...!
The entrance was breached. The hallway and living room were successively neutralized. About 300 dolls crumbled in my hands.
Soon the murderous cobwebs also calmed down. The precise arrangement of the dolls must have been the core of this lair's security system.
High-level awakening abilities. Excellent understanding of her powers. Prudence in not revealing her true form. Bold and decisive actions. Mastery of aura at a young age, learned independently. Precise calculation abilities.
...The test was over. Although I didn't want to admit it, Old Man Scho's intuition was correct.
A prodigy. The Puppeteer was certainly worth recruiting.
Even if she had no legs, that wasn't a significant hindrance. She might not be able to fight on the front lines, but she had enormous potential as a support member.
"Lee Ha-yul. Are you listening?"
Silence.
"I am the Undertaker. Colleague of the Sword Star and the Great Witch. I apologize for barging in like this. It was my fault."
Silence.
"Lee Ha-yul. I want to talk to you. I used force to demonstrate my skills. I could break into the basement, but I don't want our relationship to start off on the wrong foot."
Silence.
"My goal is to persuade you to join the academy in Korea. Give me a chance to convince you."
Creak.
The basement door opened.
"Come in."
The housekeeper was holding the doorknob. Hearing her voice up close, the mechanical tone was even more apparent.
On reflection, the ideal form of machinery for humans had always been dolls, from paper and clockwork to AI chips.
Thus, the term mechanical sound could be corrected to doll sound without much error.
I passed the housekeeper and stepped into the basement. Thud. The heavy iron door closed behind me.
"...."
Finally, I made eye contact with Lee Ha-yul herself.
This was the first time. In the previous cycle, her corpse had its eyes closed.
Golden eyes.
Light chestnut hair.
A legless girl.
Sometimes an awakener's manifestation altered their hair and eye colors. The girl sitting in the wheelchair had a completely different hue from her father, Jung Sang-guk.
"Ugh! Hmmph, ugh…"
Jung Sang-guk, who had been dragged here earlier, was also in a wheelchair.
In terms of mobility issues, he was worse off than his daughter. Though he had legs, his entire body was bound tightly with puppet strings, like prey caught in a spider web.
Moreover, his fingernails were freshly dripping blood.
'...Ah.'
Hmm.
That's why Jung Sang-guk wore gloves in the 18th cycle.
-x-X-x-
The Puppeteer IV
"Ugh…!"
Jung Sang-guk's eyes were bloodshot. His mouth and tongue were bound by puppet strings, preventing him from speaking, but it didn't matter.
Body language was a universal language. Jung Sang-guk writhed desperately, sending out an SOS signal.
I felt sorry for him, but my priority was not the parent, but the child. Jung Sang-guk's struggles only agitated Lee Ha-yul.
"...."
Lee Ha-yul silently drove a nail under his fingernail.
Rip! His nail tore. Another competitor in the same business sector had just opened.
"Ugh, please…!"
The blood loss from excessive competition drove Jung Sang-guk to faint.
I mourned for him inwardly. It was all because he was born in the wrong era. If he had been born during the Japanese occupation, a traitor of his caliber wouldn't have faced nail torture.
I spread my hands.
"Lee Ha-yul, I have no intention of interfering in matters between you and Jung Sang-guk. As I said earlier, my only goal is to persuade you to join the academy."
"...."
"Let me introduce myself again. I am Undertaker. I exterminated the Ten Legs in the Korean Peninsula. I am now the vice-principal of the Freiheit Academy."
By now, it was time for Lee Ha-yul herself to introduce herself, but that didn't happen.
Instead, the housekeeper marionette, who had opened the basement door for me, stood behind Lee Ha-yul's wheelchair and spoke in a mechanical voice.
"Lee Ha-yul. Puppeteer."
"...I understand you're being cautious, but can't you speak in your own voice?"
"Impossible."
"Why?"
Lee Ha-yul opened her mouth wide. Her neat teeth were visible, but beyond them was a black void.
I tilted my head.
What was this? Unless she mistook me for a dentist, this pose made no sense.
Then the housekeeper, like a ventriloquist's dummy, spoke.
"Vocal cord. Disability."
It was an unexpected statement.
"She can't speak."
"...."
"So she can't converse."
I then realized that Lee Ha-yul's disability was not only the loss of her legs.
A physical speech disability.
...Therefore, the girl in front of me must have endured extreme discomfort before awakening her ability. Mobility issues. Communication issues.
Considering she was the illegitimate child of a prominent politician, it wouldn't be surprising to add identity issues to the list.
Her [Puppeteer] ability was truly a miracle for Lee Ha-yul.
"...I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's fine."
Lee Ha-yul closed her mouth. The Puppeteer's expression remained devoid of any emotion.
"It doesn't matter."
"Hmm."
"How did you find this place?"
It was a bizarre sight.
The voice came entirely from the housekeeper, but the conversation was with Lee Ha-yul. The direction of the gaze and the voice were mismatched.
Despite the strange feeling, I continued to meet Lee Ha-yul's eyes.
"I followed Jung Sang-guk. His request for me to wait at the lodging for two days was suspicious. I saw him enter the House of Dolls and decided to eavesdrop for a while."
"...."
The girl's eyes softened slightly.
It seemed she liked the term 'House of Dolls.'
"Thanks to that, I overheard your conversation with Jung Sang-guk. If you saw my rampage upstairs, you would know I excel in aura manipulation."
Lee Ha-yul tilted her head.
"Aura?"
"...Hmm."
I ignited an aura in my palm. A murky flame. My aura was achromatic.
"This. You infused your puppet strings with golden aura earlier, right?"
"You call that aura."
"Some people call it inner energy. It's a matter of preference. Some call it magical energy or pronounce it as aura. Did you learn aura manipulation on your own?"
"Yes."
"Impressive."
"Even the magical girls said that."
By the way, 'magical girls' referred to the strongest group of awakeners in Japan, who later essentially succeeded the role of the Japanese government as the 'Magical Girl Council.'
How such a chaotic situation came about… well...
Let's just say that awakeners get stronger the crazier they are. I'll have another chance to discuss them later.
"The magical girls? Did they try to recruit you?"
"Yes. I refused."
"May I ask why? I want to reduce the chances of failure by learning from rejection cases."
"They're weird."
"...."
"Dresses. Lots of frills. Terrible fashion sense. They end their sentences with 'nya.' Abnormal."
"...."
It was quite an assertion coming from a girl currently giving her father's fingernails a strip show in real-time.
Anyway, the small talk served as a good icebreaker between us.
Contrary to what I expected, Lee Ha-yul was quite easy to converse with. If you ignored the strange puppet voice.
"Is it alright if I ask why you're trying to kill Jung Sang-guk?"
"Ugh…?"
Jung Sang-guk reacted to the word 'kill.' Even when he was dragged to the basement and had his nails ripped out, he hadn't expected his daughter would kill him.
But Jung Sang-guk was always meant to die.
In the 18th cycle, Lee Ha-yul killed Jung Sang-guk, hung the housekeeper, and then killed herself.
Everyone but Jung Sang-guk himself knew his death was an inevitable part of the schedule. Lee Ha-yul naturally answered my question.
"This man betrayed my mother."
Mother? She must mean Lee Ha-yul's biological mother and Jung Sang-guk's second wife.
"He said he'd bring a doctor. That there was medicine. That the treatment was progressing, but mother died."
"Ugh…!"
"Mother wanted to stay in Korea. This man forcibly brought her here. And neglected her."
Lee Ha-yul's 'voice' remained unchanged. An unchanging mechanical tone.
But her 'eyes' burned as if melting gold. That was the temperature Lee Ha-yul originally possessed.
"I remember. Since I was five, this man rarely visited our house. He found mother annoying. Me too. He was afraid of staying in Korea. Afraid we'd be discovered."
"Hmmph!"
"On the day mother died, I awakened. This is mother's revenge."
Jung Sang-guk struggled desperately, indicating it wasn't true. His old wheelchair creaked noisily.
...I could feel the sincerity in Lee Ha-yul's words.
But I also knew that sincerity did not guarantee the truth, past or future. That was the most painful truth about human nature.
"Can I hear Jung Sang-guk's side too?"
"...."
Lee Ha-yul looked up at me, her golden eyes scrutinizing my face for intent.
Nod.
"It doesn't matter."
"Ah…!"
Jung Sang-guk's tongue finally regained its freedom. Spider threads still wrapped around his tongue and teeth, but they loosened a bit.
"Lies! Mr. Undertaker! Please don't believe the words of a child, especially one who tortures her own parent! I am Jung Sang-guk! Jung Sang-guk! A man who dedicates himself to the nation and people!"
"Ah, I'm sorry. I pretended otherwise at the drinking party, but I actually think of the Second Provisional Government as a farce."
Jung Sang-guk wore a blank expression.
"Excuse me?"
"I treated you well out of respect for the Fukuoka officials. I have no interest in you. Mr. Jung Sang-guk. Why would awakeners who stayed in Korea and fought the Ten Legs have any affection for you?"
"...."
"Besides, as I said, my goal is to take the Puppeteer to our academy. Now I just want to verify if Lee Ha-yul's claims are true. As you know, a teacher needs to understand a student's family background to some extent."
"It's a lie!"
Jung Sang-guk shouted.
"How did I neglect anything? What? Neglect what! If I were to take my second family in secret, should I have announced it to everyone? Think about it! If I really intended to neglect them, I would have left them to die in Korea!"
"...."
"Sure, it's tough here too, but you know! The Ten Legs! That damn bastard! Our military, the South Korean Army, was annihilated! Even the North Korean Army was wiped out! Knowing that, should I have left So-yoon and Ha-yul to die there? Yes! I'm a traitor! I, Jung Sang-guk, am a traitor! But I wanted to save my family. I wanted to save my family, so I pandered to Japan and survived!"
I could also feel the sincerity in Jung Sang-guk's words.
But I knew that mimicking human pain was a politician's instinct.
"If I were a selfish person who only thought of myself, I wouldn't have cared for Ha-yul! But how can a daughter, no matter how resentful, treat her parent like this?"
Spider threads quickly bound Jung Sang-guk's tongue again.
At first, I thought Lee Ha-yul was forcefully silencing him.
But it wasn't that.
"He brought us here and neglected us."
Jung Sang-guk's mouth moved. It was his voice, but not his words.
They were Lee Ha-yul's words.
Lee Ha-yul was manipulating his tongue, teeth, and throat, speaking through him, either deliberately or driven by emotion.
"This house was originally shabby. I used my ability to control people and renovate it."
"Ugh! Even that! In these times, that was a blessing and a luxury! Now that you're grown, don't you see that?"
"Lies. Your house was completely different."
From then on, a very strange thing happened.
Both of them were using the same tongue and mouth to talk. No, to argue.
Lee Ha-yul's words were choked and broken, sounding like mechanical stutters. Jung Sang-guk must have been resisting.
But his resistance was unsuccessful. So the two ended up conversing in turns.
It was as if I didn't exist, and the father-daughter emotions erupted violently in a single, yet diverging, direction.
"I have never treated you as my daughter! You're a crazy girl who tortures people!"
"You're not my father either."
Their anger peaked.
But I thought both of their statements were wrong.
Jung Sang-guk was also a puppet.
As the mayor of Busan, he was a puppet saying whatever the citizens wanted to hear, and as the representative of Busan in Fukuoka, he said whatever pleased the Japanese.
To him, language didn't matter. He could name the exile group the Second Provisional Government. He could rename Fukuoka as Busan.
Whether in his own country or a foreign one, Jung Sang-guk was a lifelong servant to state power, a 'national slave'.
If language is the essence of humanity, Jung Sang-guk merely mimicked it.
Something that imitates a human. We call that a puppet.
Strangely, the genes of a puppet were passed down to another puppet.
To Lee Ha-yul, who grew up watching her mother and father, to a child, the archetype of a human was imprinted as a doll.
Parents inevitably pass down some legacy to their children, whether they wish to or not.
Even the parts they ignored, their children did not. They couldn't ignore them.
That was the destiny of humans.
"Lies."
"No, it's not…!"
And if one has devoted their life to power, they must accept this outcome too.
In a spiraling conflict, the winner is the one who holds the stronger power.
Before they crossed to Japan, immediately after, the power holder in this family was undoubtedly Jung Sang-guk. He had the power to control other puppets.
"Lies, everything. All of it."
Not anymore.
The owner of the 'House of Dolls' was no longer him, but Lee Ha-yul.
"Ah—hmm?"
Jung Sang-guk's throat was constricted.
Lee Ha-yul said nothing. Just as she had been since birth. She looked at her blood relative as she had at birth.
Puppet strings dug into his flesh.
Ugh, the sound of a convulsion.
"...! ...!"
Struggling.
A little.
And then.
"...."
The puppet went limp.
The basement fell silent.
In the end, the final words of a politician who stirred up turmoil in this end-of-the-world era were:
Lies.
Everything.
All of it.
His last words were cut into three parts. Three sections of his throat.
As someone who had lived as a politician, were his final words closer to truth or lies?
"...."
Watching Lee Ha-yul, covered in blood, I pondered for a moment.
Some might argue that those weren't his final words since they weren't spoken of his own volition.
Maybe.
But it was undoubtedly his legacy.