The Receiver VIII
[The Admin of the Infinite Metagame].
Once, she demoted this entire world to a mere "game," re-classified every anomaly as a "monster," and labeled Awakened folk "NPCs," thereby securing near-invincibility for herself, that outcast god―
"Phaa. I've always wondered from inside the screen! Just how good is this thing they call chocolate cake? Every time that chewable miko ate it she'd sneer, 'A clump of pixels like you will never taste this, pity,' and my nerves would fray, fray, fray!"
…was now, in splendid Homo Sapiens form, munching cake.
For the record, I baked the dessert.
The instant we met she folded her fan with aristocratic grace and asked, "Might I trouble you for a sample of your culinary skill?" like some noble heiress placing an order.
Fortunately the Tower of Babel keeps a stock of ingredients.
I improvised a full course from what was left, and, as you see, she's reaping happy chemicals in overdose.
"Did the Librarian tease you like that?"
"Yes! Really… that plebeian; filth beyond the word ingratitude. Mmm—this chocolate, the faint bitterness followed by a brush of sweetness on the tongue—irresistible…."
"Sorry to cut into your gourmet discovery, but first things first."
"Mm?"
"Your diction. That gaudy noble-lady lilt—where did it come from?"
A natural human question.
"To my memory you never had a Young-Lady trait. Even the character that became the template for 'White Girl' was technically a noble daughter, but she never spoke in that rootless style."
"Hm."
The Admin speared another bite of cake, head tilting in the same posture.
"I didn't choose it because I like it. Partly the [Young-Lady] tag stuck on me, as you said, but mostly the chewable miko forced the trait."
"What?"
"Please don't make that face. What did she say… Ah—'The old man lacks a noble-lady character; you'll be perfect for it.' Something like that."
"…"
"She shoved a setting sheet not 5,700 but 57,000 characters long down my throat, as if training ChatGPT. If she had time for that circus, I'd prefer for her to write another line of her novel."
Dok-seo, Dok-seo! Dok-seo…
"By her logic, overlapping character traits are the worst catastrophe. Thus, I am a catastrophe."
"So in short it's all the Librarian's fault."
"Well. Until she met a certain 'someone,' my miko's psychosis wasn't this far gone."
The Admin's eyes began to narrow at me, so I hurried topics.
"Constellations have materialized, but I didn't expect you to remain. Why haven't you messaged me until now?"
"Oh my, have you forgotten already?"
Tap tap—after wiping her lips, the Admin lowered her lashes.
"To me, 'Undertaker' is always two people."
"Ah."
"Normally my miko would tag whichever is near her as the 'real' one, but the world has nicely ended. Two masters in one boat, I couldn't tell which was genuine."
"And now?"
"No."
Her smile warped into resignation, like sneering at herself and me alike.
"For all I know you're the pink entity. Or truly the Undertaker. I can't decide, so I'll converse assuming you're my real master."
"…"
"If you're fake and I miss it, apologies in advance. Because of me your chance to beat the pink entity will vanish forever, but please accept it as karma and be magnanimous."
I frowned.
"Vanish forever? Explain."
"Like this."
Shrrk.
She extended claw-like nails and slit her own chest straight down.
No blood flew.
Inside, static hissed.
Grotesque enough, yet stranger still:
"...?"
I could read the static.
Once it would've been meaningless noise, now faint shapes formed.
Noise filling her torso… on closer look every flicker was a 'letter.'
L A P O T W I R E K I D O B A S E L O T Y G R A L P O R E S Y N O T I K E R A B L W I N E D O R O S T L A K Y B E S I O N T E R I P A L Y N O K E D I T O L A R E S Y L A P O N O B L R E K I T S Y W I D O K E R A L Y S T N O T E P O R E D I L A K Y I N R O S E B A T I G R A L P O S Y N O K E L A R E B L W I T Y
Plop!
She thrust a hand into the typographic swarm, into her own chest.
"Hmmm. Ah, here?"
Fishing around, she pinched letters between finger and thumb.
"Found them."
Six letters:
O T P A P L
They wriggled on the tabletop.
She skewered and rearranged them:
L A P T O P
Lined up, they tore with a rip—shraaak!—and a laptop sat there.
The bound item I receive each time I restart at Busan Station.
She beamed.
"Here, detestable master. A laptop that survives regression… my personal ark. With this—"
"Incredible. You just turned letters into a thing?"
Blink.
Her head tilt turned even steeper.
"Pardon?"
"What you did just now."
"Er… master, are you saying you could actually see it?"
"...?"
My turn to tilt.
"Of course."
"What exactly did you see?"
"You slit your chest, letters writhed, you plucked the six reading 'laptop.'"
"…"
Her face hardened; she had meant to unveil the laptop, yet now propped her chin, grave.
"…"
"What's wrong?"
"…'Sudden' better suits you, master. Even with the chewable miko gone, me wearing a perfect human shell is odd."
"…?"
"Regressor, my detestable master."
She fixed her stare.
"The authority you glimpsed isn't something human eyes parse easily."
"I still don't follow."
"…That my true body is letters, that you casually perceived it—that alone is bizarre."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Odd, no? You never had such power."
"Hmm."
"Hmph. You don't grasp the weight yet. Fine, let's do a test."
She reached in again, drew out nine letters, stretched them:
W H I T E G I R L
Chin on hand, she smiled.
"Go on, poke around."
"Poke?"
"If you truly see them, you can touch them."
"…"
"Prove it."
Easy enough. I pressed a finger on "W H I T E G I R L."
Twitch! Letters jerked, the Admin's shoulders quivered.
Watching, I kneaded ink from 'W' and 'G,' reshaping:
B L O N D E G I R L
At once the letters leapt up the Admin's body—arm, shoulder, neck, cheeks, hair—like cockroaches.
"Ah?"
Where they burrowed her hair's whiteness turned gold.
"…Not a lie, then."
She sighed, twirling new, fuller golden hair.
A weary smile.
"Congratulations, detestable master."
"…"
"You've become a monster's monster."
"Yes."
"Any workaround?"
I shook my head.
"It's a contract—with Hecate, with Nut."
"Oh my."
"Try to record anything about Hecate and it counts as a breach. Directly or indirectly, there's no loophole."
Even if one existed, breaking the contract was unthinkable.
She laughed behind her fan.
"Understood. But… information unrelated to Hecate, without any mention of the 173rd run, but only events of the 999th—what happens then?"
Snap—the fan closed.
"If it concerns the pink entity alone, could we not leave clues inside my laptop?"
I almost sprang up.
"Information on Go Yuri!"
"Yes. To me, data on that pink entity equals 'data on the Undertaker.' It fits the laptop just fine."
Ohoho.
"As you know, that laptop preserves the Undertaker's chronicle across runs. Therefore we can stock it with pink-entity intel."
"…!"
A spark in my head.
'Right… she can't tell me from Yuri, so she can record Yuri perfectly!'
Brilliant.
Details of Dang Seo-rin were too bound to the contract, but—
Clues on Go Yuri from the 999th cycle could reach my next self.
"Of course, the contract might wipe everything anyway."
"It's still worth trying."
"And one more safety measure…"
Click.
She powered on the laptop.
It should have nothing installed, save the text files for my chronicle. Less software means fewer authorities for her.
Yet—
"To keep the 999th-run data safe, shall we add a safeguard?"
The once-empty desktop showed a single unfamiliar file:
"Library Society."
While my eyes widened, she continued, smiling like a debutante seasoned in intrigue.
"Any Constellation we miss this run devolves into a true anomaly, correct? Then—"
"…we turn that to our advantage."
"Indeed. The Great Library floods daily with hundreds of data items."
"In that ocean we'll scatter the clues to defeating the pink entity. The hints which you found in this cycle."
-x-X-x-
The Receiver IX
[The Librarian of the Great Library] will be left behind as a bona-fide Constellation.
The goal is singular.
Go Yuri, who only managed to seize a clue worthy of the name after reaching the 999th run, a being whose real name remains an enigma.
All of this is to pass information about her down to the next 'me'.
"How do you like it, Master?"
Admin of the Infinite Metagame, the very person who came up with the operation, flashed a self-assured smile.
"Please humbly admit that the only strategist in your party is no longer just that blasted puppet-master behind the scenes."
"…I get that Dok-seo is your priestess, but do you really have to hate Yohwa that much too?"
"Oh my, you are absolutely right, Master! After all, you only got handed [Mind Reading] by her, twisted my century-long master plan in a single stroke, ruined the most promising priestess worse than anyone, and even made me sign a humiliating instrument of surrender—but sure, there isn't a single reason in the world for me to bear a grudge, is there?"
"..."
Leaving the blazing-with-rage Admin of the Infinite Metagame aside for the moment, I ran the numbers on the operation's success rate in my head.
'Not bad.'
No—better than merely 'not bad.'
There were, however, several side effects and loopholes that could be foreseen once the plan was set in motion, and I rolled each of them across my tongue in turn.
"Very well, Admin of the Infinite Metagame. Let's assume, as you say, that [The Librarian of the Great Library] indeed ascends as the one-and-only authentic Constellation."
"Yeees, sir."
"In that case, she'll have inherited not only the remnants of the Great Witch Hecate but the Saintess's traces as well. If we leave her be, won't she become ridiculously strong down the road?"
"Hmm. You're worried about a rebellion, aren't you? Then the constraints have to be strong—very strong."
The Admin of the Infinite Metagame tilted her chin, as if she had expected such objections and was nonetheless happy to play the red team in our thought experiment.
"From what I've heard from the other Constellations, you've already gathered the fragments, Master."
"Ah, you mean these?"
"Um, Master, sorry to say, but could you please not play so casually with an anomaly's main body?"
She paled when she saw the Constellation fragments I'd just fished out of my pocket.
No one had ever pointed it out, so I hadn't noticed, but apparently even touching these shards counted as the outrageous misconduct of a monster in her book.
"Haa... Well, perhaps it's for the best. The pieces that end up in your grasp are, so to speak, the Constellation's core—the very essence."
"Ho-oh."
"In other words... by using these fragments you can design the Constellation's 'settings' however you like."
"For example, something like [Must Never Be Hostile Toward Humanity]?"
"Exactly. You can impose as many rules as you fancy, right down to something akin to the Three Laws of Robotics."
The Admin of the Infinite Metagame grumbled from behind her fan.
"Honestly. The original plan was for me to tweak the settings with my authority, yet the already unfair gentleman disappears for a bit only to come back even more upgraded. The world really is, hopelessly, unfair."
I ignored the complaint—it was beside the point.
'So I'm entering the settings.'
I define the essence of the anomaly.
With my fingertips, I create an anomaly.
"..."
A pitch-black unease rose from below my navel, but I clenched my fist.
It was something that had to be done.
I could not abandon the strategy against Go Yuri like this. I could not squander the chance that had finally arrived in the 999th cycle.
"...Right. If I have no choice but to create this anomaly, I have to configure it so that it harms humanity as little as possible."
"Hmm. Speaking as someone who already surrendered, I'll warn you it won't be easy. You'll have to brace for some collateral damage."
"No. There is a way."
I looked straight ahead.
"I'm going to put you to use, Admin of the Infinite Metagame."
"?"
From that day on, the days of writing the setting bible for [The Librarian of the Great Library] began.
[Eeeeeeeek!]
A high-fidelity soprano rang out of the laptop speakers—none other than Admin of the Infinite Metagame's fury-stricken groan.
Only a short while ago she had enjoyed the freedom of the outside world; how had it come to this?
As if she'd changed jobs back into a VTuber, the avatar of a noble lady on the laptop screen was gnawing on a handkerchief.
[I finally thought I'd gotten a real body, and now—again! Again you shove me into this rice-grain-sized studio apartment! My goodness! Do you truly lack even a shred of human compassion?!]
Slurp.
I leisurely sipped the canned coffee I had salvaged from the Tower of Babel's storeroom and looked down at the laptop.
"Every VTuber is either a reincarnate or a reincarnation candidate. You're simply walking the path allotted to you."
[Eeeek! T-talk about frightening out of nowhere.
"Enough. Get ready."
I held the Constellation shards up to the laptop screen, beckoning for her to hurry up and eat them.
[Haa. So bull-headed, honestly…]
The Admin of the Infinite Metagame let out a sigh.
The moment the noble-lady avatar stretched out her arms, the fragments that had definitely been 'outside' the screen migrated to 'inside' it.
Piro-ro-ro-rong ♪
On the white desktop the shards were now lined up like icons, transformed into clumps of pixels.
"Is there any reason to sigh? This isn't bad news for you either, it means a bit of your mark will remain in [The Librarian of the Great Library]."
[Yes, yes. That's why I'm cooperating, otherwise I'd never have returned to this solitary-cell existence.]
"Hmm. Strictly speaking, you've sworn unconditional obedience to me, so when I give an order, you follow it first and complain later."
[Could you perhaps share that wretched unpleasantness of yours not only with anomalies like me but with the humans around you as well?]
I cracked the knuckles of my interlaced fingers.
I clicked on a Notepad file.
"All right."
[Yees.]
"Let's get started."
The fragments broke apart.
As the pixels shattered, black dots appeared.
The moment my fingers clacked on the keyboard, those black specks birthed from the shards were dragged along and turned into letters, like ink.
Just as I had rewritten Admin of the Infinite Metagame's core in my own handwriting, I would now define the essence of [The Librarian of the Great Library] through typing.
The first line of the setting bible read as follows.
※ This work is a piece of fiction. Any institution names, work titles, personal names, or trademarks that appear are entirely fictitious.
Why did that feel so familiar?
Yes. The restriction that it was nothing more than 'fiction.'
A way to ensure that, even if an anomaly-cum-constellation called [The Librarian of the Great Library] did come to life, it would inflict no damage on humanity or reality.
[Hmm. Your brain does work well.]
The Admin of the Infinite Metagame craned her neck to peer at the Notepad file. Her avatar hung from it like someone clinging to a wall.
[Seeing as I'm an Outer God who once ruled over 'fiction,' I've been pretty much completely neutralized already.]
[Therefore, now that [The Librarian of the Great Library]'s sphere of action is limited to fiction, she will never unleash unexpected explosive power.]
"Exactly."
Only powerful anomalies had value, so I once thought.
Even a weak anomaly gained a fresh purpose by virtue of its weakness.
"To lock her inside 'fiction' I'll need not only the fragments' ink but your assistance as well."
[Yes. In a sense... you could call her my daughter?]
The Admin of the Infinite Metagame made an odd face.
[Her original is that Saintess, her maker is you, and I am her helper. Three parents, how lucky the child is to have so many.]
"Let's keep going."
Even if I managed to save the world, this anomaly would probably persist somewhere in it, forever taking the form of a 'creative work.'
The parameters for that entity continued.
1. [The Librarian of the Great Library] records every anomaly and every tale of the uncanny. The method of recording varies each time.
2. Every ghost story circulating through reality or cyberspace has either been authored by [The Librarian of the Great Library] or penned unwittingly by someone she has enchanted.
2-1. [The Librarian of the Great Library] cannot reveal these facts. She records the stories, nothing more, and must not be concerned with proving her own existence.
Juru-ru-ruk.
Every time another line was entered into the setting bible, ink seeped from the shards, and a white ichor trickled from Admin of the Infinite Metagame's avatar.
From my fingertips as well.
"..."
The letters 'Under', 'ta', and 'ker' tumbled into the screen one after another.
'In the past, even my eyes would never have been able to see such a sight.'
Just how did such a perspective suddenly open up to me?
I still lacked the answer, but what mattered now was that it was useful to me.
"When I think about it."
Tap-tap-tap.
I muttered while hammering endlessly at the keys.
[Yes?]
"From the very start, [The Librarian of the Great Library] was defined as the Constellation presiding over the Library Society, whose leader is a character called the Duke of the Black Library—whose true identity is..."
[Master, that's you, isn't it?]
"Right."
Tack, tack-tack.
"To pass off the strategy methods for anomalies to the Awakeners in a manner that sounded plausible, I used the façade of a 'Library Society.' The whole setup was my design from start to finish."
Tack.
"I could have entrusted the imaginary Duke of the Black Library to someone else, like [The Dream Demon of the Grand Pleasure Palace] or [The Morning Star of the Second Coming]."
[And yet?]
"Why, then? I kept the hidden lore that 'the Duke of the Black Library is actually the Undertaker.' There was no need to, but unlike the other Constellations, [The Librarian of the Great Library] alone possessed my identity."
[...]
"And now, [The Librarian of the Great Library] is literally being born at my hands."
Tack.
"All of these coincidences..."
[Feel almost like inevitabilities.]
"Ahh."
I smiled.
"How many failures must there have been before reaching this inevitable path? Imagining them makes me want to bless myself for having arrived at this moment."
[Hmph.]
"Then your presence at my side now is hardly a mere coincidence either, Admin of the Infinite Metagame."
[...]
"Because you demoted everything in this world to fiction, I could hand over the clues about Go Yuri in the form of a creative work. Perhaps you too were necessary—for me, for us."
The keyboard clattered.
"A pity."
[What's a pity?]
"I've felt gratitude toward you for the first time in my life, yet once we pass on to the next cycle I'll forget it forever, that's the pity."
[...]
"So oblivion was this frightening after all."
Stare. On the screen, the Admin of the Infinite Metagame was gazing up at me.
That gaze no longer felt awkward.
"To remember every minute of one's life, I had thought that was the punishment and curse laid upon me, but perhaps it wasn't after all."
[Whichever path we start on, every human ends up bearing their own heaven-ordained punishment.]
Admin of the Infinite Metagame's voice murmured through the speakers, the quality now slightly degraded.
[If there had been no yearning or lament for worlds other than this one, an Outer God like me would never have been born.]
"So, round and round, you exist because of humanity's incorrigible nature?"
[Yes. Cursed, isn't it.]
The Admin of the Infinite Metagame looked up at the sky.
I suddenly wondered.
How did the world 'outside the screen' appear in Admin of the Infinite Metagame's eyes?
[Which is why your author Hecate concluded that humanity's nature had to be remodeled entirely. It seems she failed though—thanks to you, Master.]
"..."
[Since you'll forget anyway, I'll confess now: I didn't surrender to you solely to survive.]
"Then why?"
[I wanted to watch.]
Hee-hee, a laugh laced with static.
[Your epilogue.]
"..."
[I acknowledge your effort. Yes, I concede defeat. But when it all ends, what will you obtain? A single human? Humanity? A world of billions, each harboring billions of curses?]
The defeated Outer God—now closer to human—smiled with her eyes.
[I've come to want to see it at any cost, even if I must discard all my authority, the moment you fall at the very end.]
"That will never happen."
[And whom you'll end up dating, and if you do, how many holes will get punched in your gut.]
"Please spare me that at least..."
[Oh my. I need some sort of spectator sport to add a bit of fun to a life fallen from godhood to servitude, don't I?]
Kyaruruk.
It was a laugh that fit her form from long before, far more than the noble-lady guise she bore now.
Time passed.
The setting bible was enormous; I needed meticulous and subtle coding to ensure that under no circumstances could [The Librarian of the Great Library] evolve into a dangerous anomaly.
'How much time has passed?'
It was hard to sense time.
As I said, every letter I wrote drained 'something' from my being.
In martial art terms, it was like innate true qi.
Just as the fragments that formed the core of the Constellations were being used as ink, something that formed the backbone of me, the regressor known as the Undertaker, was being consumed.
'...But it doesn't matter.'
It will all reset anyway.
'I mustn't write a document directly about Go Yuri, the chance she'll notice is too high.'
Call a ghost and a ghost will come.
It was the most basic of spells.
'Now I think I see why Go Yuri suddenly adopted the identity of a 'tiger.'
There must have been several reasons.
Perhaps she needed the concept of dragon-tiger contention in order to oppose a dragon like Leviathan.
She might have borrowed the legend of the Jangsanbeom[1], which can mimic any face or voice, to express that trait.
Go Yuri.
A name permitted only to me.
'...Everyone has their own way of calling Go Yuri. Ha-yul has her own term, Dok-seo has hers.'
Therefore I must not call her 'Go Yuri.'
If I do, she'll realize from 'over there' that it was none other than the Undertaker who summoned her.
The instant I call her, she perceives it.
'What an absurd spell.'
A bitter laugh escaped me.
'Therefore, when drafting the Library Society document, I must not mention the name Go Yuri.'
'As if writing in cipher, so that only I can understand it.'
An epithet.
'One that the next me, or even the me hundreds of cycles hence, will be compelled to click the moment I see it.'
I pondered.
'...This is it.'
I hammered the keyboard.
'With this, even if I lose my memory—even if I regard the flood of data in the Library Society as nothing more than rootless scraps of information whose source I can't trace—'
'—I'll still take it seriously.'
'Others will see nothing but a meaningless string of characters.'
'But the Undertaker—that is, I the regressor—could never dismiss such characters as a joke.'
I wrote the document about Go Yuri.
I penned Go Yuri's story without ever using the name Go Yuri.
It seemed a narrative style that suited her quite well.
With each character I typed, the fragments of the Constellation melted away, and in no time they were gone.
[...]
Even the avatar resembling a noble lady—
—had, at some point, fallen silent altogether, becoming a blurry mass of pixels.
But.
'Finished.'
Tak.
I hit Enter.
The moment I wrapped up, a sudden wave of fatigue hit—no ordinary fatigue, but a sensation close to spiritual depletion.
Through dimming vision I could just make out the laptop with its screen now dark. Had the Admin of the Infinite Metagame also spent her soul to the very end?
If so, then this was the regressor's will.
A guidebook for one solitary strategy.
'I'm counting on you... the next me.'
I closed my eyes.
Footnotes:
[1] An urban legend about a mysterious creature resembling a tiger that appears in the mountains of Jangsan Mountain in Busan Metropolitan City in Korea.
-x-X-x-
The Receiver X
I was dreaming.
Inside the dream, Go Yuri and I were amicably riding a tiny boat, so the very moment I saw it I realised at once that it had to be a dream.
'Ha, an impossible sight.'
Even if I died and came back to life (and that is no exaggeration), there was simply no way Go Yuri and I would end up in the same place, much less in a space this cramped.
I am the Undertaker. Believe it or not, I'm the sort of young man who actually listens when grown-ups warn him to steer clear of dangerous neighbourhoods.
'And what's with that oarsman?'
'She looks like the Saintess but has an eyepatch on, and that way of speaking… heavens. Could she be some bizarre hybrid of Dok-seo and the Saintess?'
'What a blasted dream.'
Just as I tried to swallow a dry laugh, my eyes flickered—not my physical eyes, but the eyes of my mind, blinking like a lamp.
'Wait. I have never experienced anything like this. Then is this scene… being spun inside my dream by some anomaly that slipped in?'
Because I possess [Complete Memory], a dream for me is either a replay of reality or the appearance of an anomaly, there is no third option.
A "trip with Go Yuri across a world drowned beneath the sea" was obviously not a replay of reality.
That memory did not exist inside me.
'…'
It did not. It was not. It had never been.
With every kind of negation—of being, of statement, of action—I peeled away the sight before my eyes.
That was what my head did.
'…Yet what is this feeling?'
My heart failed to follow suit.
The pounding would not quit.
'The outlines are bleaching ever whiter, or should I say they're drawing farther away?'
'The colour of the sea, the look on Go Yuri's face… I feel as though we were discussing something important.'
'Ah.'
Realisation moved slower than my heartbeat.
'I see.'
'So this is what it feels like to forget.'
The world faded at frightening speed.
The blue of the sea, the slime on the gunwale, the ripples raised by the oarsman, all of it turned white, like fine sand on a beach.
Yes.
I was forgetting something.
"…"
My stomach churned.
"Mr. Undertaker."
A voice rang out in the whitened world.
When I turned my head, the Saintess with long, sea-coloured hair stood there alone.
"Saintess?"
"Yes."
She was the only one in this white world. Thus, the spot where she stood felt like the very centre of existence.
"What is going on? Has an anomaly broken into my dream again? Or is an anomaly wearing your face to show me an illusion this time?"
"…"
The Saintess did not answer.
Instead she looked straight at me.
Somehow, she seemed sad.
"…Saintess?"
Sadness—an expression rare for one who almost never shows emotion.
While I stared in puzzlement, she exhaled a small, steadying breath.
Strange. If she needed a moment she could have frozen time with [Time Stop].
"…Mr. Undertaker, you are dying right now."
"Pardon?"
"Literally. Just as your life was about to end outside, I stopped the world so I could buy us a brief moment to speak."
Confusion washed over me.
Me, dying outside? It made no sense, after all—
"I hardly dropped dead out of nowhere. Moments ago I was simply drinking with Dang Seo-rin…"
Huh.
Her eyes saddened further.
"…The 999th world has already met its end. So has the 173rd. That's why the agreement you and Lady Hecate made—the promise—is beginning to carry itself out."
She murmured.
"This place is an interlude Lady Hecate and I barely carved out with our authority—a tiny gap between instants."
"Right, I was living in the 999th cycle. But the 173rd? That's already long finished."
"…"
And Hecate?
It was sudden. Of course I knew the name, she is a goddess of Greek myth.
But no being I knew bore that epithet.
Most epithets for Awakeners or anomalies were coined by me. It is not my habit to fling divine names about.
Names are basic spells. Grant someone a mighty name lightly and they may indeed grow too mighty.
The only goddess name I have ever borrowed is 'Nut'.
Thus, in the regressor's lifetime—in my lifetime—no character named Hecate existed.
I can swear that nowhere in all my memories has the word Hecate appeared.
"…You truly don't remember."
The Saintess reached out.
It was the first way humans ever found of bridging the gap between selves.
"But that's all right."
Jingle.
Somewhere a bell chimed.
She clasped both of my hands.
"Even if it's missing from your memory, the mark remains in your heart. If not today, you will recall it someday."
"…"
"Just as you found me again in this 999th cycle after being apart since the 267th."
My eyes widened.
Only then did I grasp the source of the bell.
"…!"
On the Saintess's wrist, which held my hand, hung an ornament she would never normally possess.
A silver bell.
The souvenir I always buy in the Busan Station concourse, across all cycles, only one Saintess has ever worn that bracelet.
I stared, dumbfounded.
Perhaps she read my gaze, for she formed a faint, unfamiliar smile.
"…I told you we'd meet again soon, didn't I?"
"…"
"You kept your promise, Mr. Undertaker. No matter how many cycles, no matter how long it took, you swore you would come to save me—"
Jingle.
Her words were replaced by the light ring of the bell.
I had drawn her into an embrace.
"…"
"I'm glad. Truly… glad."
A quiet sob fell in the white world.
Why I was about to die in the 999th world, why the Saintess had postponed that death, why the Saintess of the 267th cycle stood before me—
I did not know.
Nor did I need to.
Someone I had lost forever had returned. The luck of meeting her like this left me only gratitude.
Even once more—
I wanted to meet her.
"…"
Hesitant fingertips brushed my back.
For a moment…
the hands that had paddled empty air now held me.
"…Ah."
A soft murmur seeped from the Saintess.
Neither of us could see the other's face.
She was probably closing her eyes, embracing the only darkness allowed in this whiteness, seeking human warmth.
I too asked in the white darkness.
"Was it hard?"
"…I was all right. It was only a moment. I closed my eyes. In this place where time has stopped I simply waited."
"Truly?"
"…To be honest, I felt a little. From the 999th world onward time began to move again for some reason, so through Lady Hecate's eyes I could faintly sense you."
"I missed you."
"Yes. I… missed you too."
The sob shook loose.
But the Saintess swallowed.
"I'm sorry. I want to talk more… spend more time, but our reprieve is brief."
"What do you mean?"
"There is much you won't understand. You have lost much. Yet the sacrifice wasn't meaningless. Mr. Undertaker, you achieved something tremendous."
Steadily, as if stitching each word, she went on.
"Don't worry. Don't be sad. Now it's not your turn but your comrades'. One day Oh Dok-seo will definitely witness 'this very moment'."
"The Dok-seo…"
I understood at once.
[Side Story Creation]—the power to revisit any part of my chronicle at will.
In game terms, a [Replay Room].
"Either way, you will not remember this moment. That is the contract."
"I understand."
I did not know what had happened, could not even guess what the 'contract' meant.
But I was not omniscient. I could not be omnipotent. It was fine not to bear and grasp everything myself.
I had comrades.
"You truly did well, Mr. Undertaker. I too will shrug off the shackles of this frozen world and return to the regressor's timeline like any ordinary person."
"…"
"But first, there's something we must do."
She stepped back.
"One last chance remains."
This was not a farewell. Without caring who moved first, we squeezed each other's hands.
"A chance?"
"Because you gathered my shards so diligently, because Lady Hecate freed herself… I am now stronger than ever, almost beyond precedent."
She added, though I barely understood, that only by relinquishing this power would Hecate's sacrifice gain meaning, likely words meant for Dok-seo.
"Oh, and I was busy cleaning up Lü Bu because you forgot to wrap her up."
"Lü Bu?"
At my reaction she smiled faintly.
"Thanks to that I could use an immensely reinforced [Time Stop] to create this interlude—and even a variant of the Utopia."
"…"
"The same goes for [Telepathy], Mr. Undertaker."
Her eyes locked on mine.
"With my current power I can—just once—overstep time and space and leave a 'message' for someone."
My jaw dropped.
"…Incredible. If true, that power is colossal."
"It is true," she said firmly.
"Not only to the future. I can send [Telepathy] to the past as well, to the days before you ever began life as a regressor."
"…"
"Using this chance is the final quest of cycle 999. This one-and-only chance, this miracle… I want to decide with you how to use it."
Why, I wondered.
It was a crucial choice and an extravagant gift, practically an extra sheet of canvas.
I ought to have pondered deeply, yet the moment she spoke, the destination flashed into my mind—instinctive.
"…"
"…"
I looked at the Saintess.
She looked at me.
Wordless. I felt sure she had reached exactly the same thought.
"Saintess, do you remember?"
I smiled.
"When you were still acting as a 'Constellation' to me—wearing the mask of the [Saintess of National Salvation]—when I travelled up to Seoul for our first meeting."
"Yes."
"Back then I asked you similar questions every time."
The oldest memory:
– I would like to ask about the Constellations first.
The 36th cycle.
When I discovered the [Saintess of National Salvation] was actually human, I asked why she acted as a Constellation.
– What exactly are Constellations? Are they real transcendents? Are you their agent, Ms. Saintess?
Those were days when I was far less experienced.
Before our relationship became what it is now, we had that conversation.
– Constellations… do not exist.
– They don't exist?
– Yes. The Saintess of National Salvation, the Conqueror of the Alps—they are all characters I created on my own.
– Why would you do such a thing?
Then she answered.
– I awakened about twenty days ago.
An Awakening earlier than others.
– Since then my hair changed colour, and in my dreams monsters appeared in nightmares, too vivid to shrug off as illusion.
She went further.
– I don't know why, but I was convinced it would truly come to pass. So I asked myself what I could do. Not stockpiling cans or bottles of water, but something only I could accomplish.
Looking back, isn't it odd?
I didn't see it then, but afterwards I came to know her nature.
The Saintess is never drawn to superstition, never favours irrational impulses.
She is almost always calm.
Would someone like that, because of a few vivid dreams, sincerely believe in the end of the world and prepare for it?
"It was now."
"…Yes. Probably."
"It was now."
The Saintess was no prophet.
Nor a fanatic.
For a rational person to truly believe in the apocalypse, convincing dreams alone are nowhere near enough.
Even so, she began acting as a Constellation.
She formed a plan.
Executed it.
Met me.
Stood here now.
Had there been no reason—had she dismissed the dreams, formed no plan, taken no action, and thus not been watching someone in the Busan Station concourse when the Void arrived, had we failed to cross nine-hundred-ninety-nine wheels—
this moment could not exist.
"I'll send [Telepathy]."
I will pass on a message among the stars—
"To the Saintess of the past."
—To you, before you even knew you were made of starlight.
-x-X-x-
The Receiver XI
I was dreaming.
"…Another weird dream."
She sat up and covered her eyes.
It was a time when no one had yet called her a Saintess, and she herself could not have imagined it, therefore all I can do is refer to her simply as "she."
"…Haa."
And yet she was still her.
With a light toss of her chin she shook off the nightmare she'd had during the night, then tied her hair back with a band.
Perhaps it was the hang-over from the sleeping pills, but her mind felt slightly murky.
Just as she peeled one of the bananas she had bought yesterday, planning to get breakfast over with, her fingers stopped.
[How curious.]
A voice only she could hear.
[It's always been I who was observed by ■■'s ■■, yet this time I'm the one observing Sain■. The feeling is rather odd.]
[That's not me, it's the past me.]
[Mm. Isn't that even more interesting?]
[I find it embarrassing, though.]
"…"
She frowned.
For several days vivid nightmares had unfolded every time she slept, and now, as if that were not enough, she was beginning to suffer hallucinated voices and visions while awake.
[It seems you still can't properly make out our voices.]
Bzzz—crackle.
Static, broken by noise, rolled round her ears like tinnitus.
[Yes. The me from back then couldn't make it out, either. Even if my ability had already grown into a full authority, I guess the message still isn't clear enough. I'm only sorry.]
[There's no need to apologise. This alone is more than enough.]
[But as for Mr. ■■...]
[If that were possible, the Saintess of today wouldn't exist. I'll leave that part to Dok-■. Proper conversation will be in tonight's dream—]
Bzz-crk, bzzzz.
The tinnitus rose to a peak, then died as though its strength were spent. Only then did she finish peeling the banana and breathe out a sigh.
…In psychopathology, hearing voices is not a good sign.
Humans possess an instinctive sense, distinguishing "outside" from "inside."
Hallucinations arise when that basic line blurs.
In other words, the dream state.
She was, in a sense, sleep-walking while wide awake.
…Maybe, without realising, she was far more cornered than she had thought.
"…"
But it doesn't matter, she told herself.
She tapped open the Calendar app on her smartphone.
The month lay blank—no schedules at all, only empty squares.
She claimed social anxiety, yet played guitar in a band with friends. In a modern society full of lies she alone upheld the true meaning of "outsider."
One square alone was not empty.
[6 June]
[END]
A modest entry. "End." Truly an ending.
Its meaning was literal.
On that day she intended to die.
Her daily routine never changed.
Up before dawn. The moment she rose she ate a banana. A hoodie chosen with no thought for fashion. A jog along the riverside.
Feed for the fish in her aquarium. Feed for herself. Breakfast. Shower. Open the stock app and check the markets. At the same time read finance articles.
Her earnings were likewise fixed; she never made more than a million won in a day.
It was not a task she pursued with burning willpower—merely a habit.
Once, in a beast's frenzy, she had fired her entire fortune like bullets, but at some point she ceased to see meaning in piling up more.
A dopamine detox.
The age of beasts was over; now was the age of sages.
Others might have tried to buy a house on the Han riverside, or clung to some other plausible goal.
She did not.
Yongsan. An old multiplex in Dongbinggo-dong. She had no thought of moving.
Liquidate assets. ON.
The decision was swift.
Of the 9.78 billion won she owned—being in the early or late nine-billion range mattered to her more than one might think—she donated 93% of it.
It was the happiest time she'd had all year.
Perhaps the happiest in her life.
She did not disregard the value of money, she simply refused to let donations flow someplace absurd.
So she spent time and information—choosing seven reliable NGOs, eleven welfare foundations, and one academic group, dividing the money among them.
That "research" took quite a while.
She even posed as a volunteer and inspected orphanages in person, caring above all whether the director was the right sort of person.
Again, she did not despise the value of money.
She despised only her own value.
[Wow, you made ten billion won in stocks? You were soaring even before the world ended, ■■.]
[Please. It's embarrassing, don't react to every bit.]
[No, it's incredible. If Ji-■ had talent like yours she wouldn't need to slave away at modelling.]
[Ah… well, that person refuses to count human emotion as a variable. In a way she's the least suited to the market.]
[I see.]
…Another hallucinated voice.
"Haa."
But the detective game and the anonymous benefactor game ended here.
After wiring the final donation, her heart felt lighter—her bank account, too.
[The truth is, I'm not completely at ease. Right up to the end I worried what to do with my fish.]
[Didn't you find anyone to take them?]
[No. I was… reluctant.]
Crackle, crackle. It was too loud.
With practiced hands she drew out sleeping pills.
Prescription zolpidem—one tablet… no, two. And one barbiturate hypnotic smuggled in through a broker.
"Mmm…"
A ripple of hallucination washed over her, like a pleasant wave. As the bedroom swam before her eyes, her consciousness slid down, down—
and in the next instant,
"Ah."
she realised she had plunged once more into the heart of a nightmare and let out a breath.
"…Why is it you keep showing me nothing but ruins?"
Perhaps it was her resolve to die.
The nightmare was always brimming with death: a city that must be Seoul turned to ashes by a nuclear blast, grotesque monsters slaughtering people.
It unnerved her to think her own unconscious might secretly crave such sights.
[You've come.]
While she gawked at the ruins and carnage like a B-grade movie, a voice rang out.
She turned.
[Can you hear my voice?]
Beneath a fallen wall white "shadows" writhed—look closely and they almost resembled human figures.
One seemed male, the one addressing her now was, perhaps, female.
"Yes, I hear you."
[Good. No matter how I tried while you were awake, my voice wouldn't come through right.]
"Your voice?"
She knitted her brow.
"Sorry, but even now the sounds you're making don't really sound human."
[…]
They were mechanical—
far more unnatural than any AI voice: within the single word "voice" every syllable leapt a different way.
The shadow stirred.
[I know you've decided to die.]
She was not surprised.
It was a nightmare, a dream, an echo of her unconscious.
Anything she knew herself would appear in it.
[But I'd like you to postpone your death, just for a little while.]
"I've delayed it several times already, on the off-chance I might change my mind. It wasn't impulsive. I chose carefully."
[I know.]
"…"
[Even so, please, once more, delay your decision. I beg you.]
A faint awkwardness prickled.
She had never poured her feelings out violently to anyone, yet somehow this white shadow stirred her heart.
"You know this, you know that—amazing. Seems you know an awful lot."
So, uncharacteristically, even in a dream, words close to sarcasm slipped out.
The white shadow hesitated.
[…More than you do now, yes.]
"Must be nice, knowing so much."
[It isn't, really.]
Words spilled from the shadow.
[…No. It isn't. I already know what will come of this conversation, and I have no power to change it.]
[I can't tell you about Mr. ■■■■, or about Mr. ■■■.]
[I can't hand you stories you don't yet know.]
"…"
The shadow writhed.
Perhaps that twisting was it breathing in and out, she thought.
"I can't say I follow, but…"
She stared straight at it.
"Fine. Why do you urge me to live? I understand the possibility—deep in my unconscious mind there may still be a strong desire for life, so you appear like a lucid dream to show me illusions."
[…]
"So I'd like to hear. If you are my last lingering desire, what joys, what pleasures could possibly lie ahead that make you cling so stubbornly?"
Silence settled.
Meanwhile the dream flowed on—near and far, cities shattered, people died.
Only the white shadows and herself—
set apart from everything like a quiet uninhabited isle.
[…I'm sorry.]
Slowly the shadow parted its lips.
[The life you're going to live… won't be very happy.]
An unexpected answer slipped out.
"Pardon?"
She had thought the dream would lure her with sweet words, telling her life was beautiful.
[You'll do something very noble. Many lives will hang on it.]
[But the work is not as beautiful as you imagined, not as lovely as you hoped.]
The mechanical voice rolled on.
[People aren't consistent.]
[Even someone who rejoices that you saved their life— their gratitude isn't always strong.]
[When they find out you were human, not a ■■, some feel betrayed.]
[Betraying others is easy, betraying oneself is… a little easier.]
[So no one can know you.]
[No one will recognise you.]
"…"
[That is the life you will walk.]
[Even as others manage daily life in a ruined world… daily life won't come to you.]
[Your heart will grow dull.]
[I'm sorry. Before it dulls—while you still have even a little love for the world—you must have wanted to lay this down.]
[I'm sorry for blocking you.]
"…"
Her stomach churned.
[You'll go through many hells.]
[You thought yourself capable—now you'll learn, point by point, where you are powerless.]
[You liked people who smiled beautifully, one of them will kill without a flicker.]
[If your own life is worthless, you at least wish to help others a little, all of it crumbles. Your service, your donations, meant nothing.]
[The world still ends.]
"…"
[Everything will grow worse.]
[The more you know,]
[…the more you see,]
[your heart will shrink.]
[I'm sorry.]
[You were never invincible.]
Her lips parted and closed.
"Then why, in the world…"
A question that had festered in her heart since long ago—
"…are you telling me to live on?"
She could not fathom it.
So she was curious.
"Rather—why are you, who say all this, still alive instead of dying now?"
[…]
The white shadow stirred.
Instinct told her it had closed its eyes, drawn a deep breath—
though it had neither face nor form beyond a pale lump.
[You are going to meet one person. And then—]
The shadow opened its eyes.
[You are going to like that person.]
-x-X-x-
The Receiver XII
[You are going to like that person.]
That person?
"…"
To her, it was almost impossible to believe such a prophecy. From some angles you could even call it an insult.
In fact, it probably bordered on verbal abuse.
Proof of that lay in the shock she felt. as if someone had cracked her across the head.
"…When you say I'll 'like' someone… Are we talking about love? A romantic feeling?"
[I understand. It must be hard to believe.]
The shadow spoke.
Its tone implied that it had already mapped every gear and spring of the tangled emotions inside her.
Just as that arrogant manner was about to grate on her again, the speaker cut the ribbon with its tongue first.
[No wonder. It's because your tastes are really, really exacting.]
"Excuse me?"
[I'm only stating the facts. I've never met anyone with preferences as finicky as yours.]
Robbed of her timing, she was left speechless. What on earth was this lump of shadow spouting?
"I'm sorry, but I have perfectly normal standards. I almost pointed that out earlier, you clearly don't know me."
[Is that so? Well, first off, isn't basic self-care a given?]
"Of course it is."
She answered instantly.
"Even on nights when I've taken sleeping pills, I never skip my dawn run. Even when I feel lazy I still go. Not because I enjoy it, but because I need a baseline level of fitness."
[And would you agree that amassing enough wealth to support your life also falls under basic self-management?]
"Naturally."
Again her reply was immediate.
"Modern South Korea rests on capitalism. There are many ways to define it, but personally I see capitalism as a system that quantifies life in money. Some find that reductionism suffocating, others liberating. Yet once a society grows past a certain size, any system breeds side effects. Imagine an ancient order that measured every life solely by individual martial prowess—that would have been just as violent as capitalism. Human society is violent by nature; we have no choice but to live in a violent world. If in that hypothetical age honing one's martial skill was a basic virtue, then in a capitalist age husbanding one's property is the basi—"
[I see. So that's what it feels like.]
The shadow murmured, sounding somehow like a sigh.
[And, unexpectedly, you care about appearance too.]
"Pardon?"
[No, wait. That could be misunderstood. Appearance is secondary, of course. I don't mean you like someone because of their looks; I mean you like the looks of the person you've come to like.]
"That makes no sense."
[Also, you believe every decent human should have compassion for the weak.]
"Isn't that obvious?"
She frowned.
"Compassion is one of humanity's basic conditions."
[You also think a good memory is essential, because without it a person may forget their own past and lose consistency.]
"That's perfectly true."
[And you need to be able to dive deep into philosophical conversation together, right?]
"The word 'philosophy' may be antique, but philosophical questions have never vanished from humanity. Everyone tackles philosophy from some crooked angle of their own life."
[They should like keeping fish as well, shouldn't they?]
"Raising fish is like tending a garden: a pastime that grants diligence and meditative time together. Stillness in motion, motion in stillness—an important mindset."
[Even if they don't love the world, if the world demands their life, they should be ready to lay it down—yes?]
"Yes."
[In short, you want someone exactly on your level, because you think you yourself aren't anything special, but just an ordinary human.]
"Why do you keep pointing out things that are only natural?"
[…And if that person happens to brim with a little extra energy, you'd call it a bonus, since you're so static. Yet here's the paradox—you'd also like them to love stillness enough to spend an entire day indoors without a single complaint.]
"Naturally. Humans are multifaceted. I'm aware of my contradictions, and since I'm aware, they'll be resolved one day."
"…"
Silence.
After a long pause and several sighs, the shadow spoke again—slowly, as if reluctant.
[Your standards… are simply too high.]
"Excuse me?"
[Your basic problem, the source of every difficulty, is that you grossly overestimate what a being called 'human' can do. You want everyone to perform exactly as much as you do.]
"Doesn't everyone?"
[No.]
"Then they must be inhuman."
[See? That reaction, that's the issue.]
"If my standards are wrong, then the world is what's wrong, not I."
[There you go again.]
"I get it. You're saying I'm the problem, yes? Fine. I'll die, then. I've been completely refuted."
[…And yet, for all your fussiness, you'll still come to like that person.]
"…"
This time it was her turn to go silent.
Toward her, the shadow continued:
[Nothing in this world is obvious. Your standards, your wishes… none of them are givens.]
[Even the tiniest things are miracles.]
[And for you, a slightly larger miracle is waiting.]
"…"
[Please stay alive just a little longer.]
She couldn't answer.
It wasn't something she could promise lightly.
[While you're watching that person, you'll learn a little more about how to cherish yourself.]
[…You'll even live that dream of studying together—just the two of you, reading side by side.]
[You'll come to like things you've never liked before.]
[You'll learn something from that person every single time.]
It was an impossible picture to imagine.
[You'll read the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, for example… books you could have lived your whole life without opening, praising historical figures by force—doing things you never once expected to do.]
"?"
The Romance of the Three Kingdoms? That old classic only grown-ups read?
[■■, ■■■, really, ■■?]
[I'm sorry, but please be quiet a moment, Mr. ■taker. Anyway, Mr. ■■■'s voice isn't coming through.]
[■■■.]
[If you keep on like this I'll swap my allegiance to Sima Yi.]
"…"
The second shadow, which had sat meekly by all this time, gave a slow wriggle. Judging by the outline, it seemed male, but it soon quieted again.
[Now, while you wait to meet the greatest miracle, let me tell you a few smaller ones that will pass the time.]
A white shadow stretched out.
It wrapped her hands firmly.
[Put your palms together.]
She did so.
[Yes—just like a prayer. Good.]
[With your hands like that, you can send messages—only to people you know, and only to those who have awakened special abilities.]
Messages?
[Think of it as KakaoTalk. At first there's a character limit and sending your voice is tough.]
[But you'll adapt in no time.]
[Just as I did.]
"…"
Ridiculous.
Was it telling her she was about to awaken some super-power? Like in a Marvel movie?
[And when you close your eyes—]
[You can see through someone else's vision. That one takes longer to master. At first you'll get a touch of motion sickness every time you share someone's view.]
"…What—"
[But don't worry.]
The shadow still clasped her hands warmly.
[You can practice whenever you want. In fact, you possess the ability to stop time.]
"…"
[Try them, one by one.]
The white shadow squirmed.
[At a bank. In a deserted mountain. At a zoo. On Hongdae's Gyeongui Line Book Street.]
[Surprisingly, it will be fun.]
"…"
She thought the shadow was smiling.
[And one day, you'll become me.]
"You are—"
[I'll be waiting.]
[Until the day I become you again.]
Everything around her turned white.
From the warmth on the back of her hands she knew instinctively that this strange dream was ending.
"Ah."
And that she had already held similar conversations more than once.
Because it all happened in dreams, there was no guarantee her brain, dulled by long use of sleeping pills, would remember any of it clearly.
I must remember.
She prayed with all her might.
I must remember—the conversation, the feelings I felt.
She pressed her hands together as if in prayer and wished.
It was a preposterous dream, full of absurdities, yet she did not want to forget a single part of it.
If only that white warmth that had wrapped her hands… please… just that much.
[One more thing I didn't mention… ah.]
[Once you practice stopping time, you'll probably find yourself with a surprising amount of free hours.]
Oblivious, or indifferent, to her desperation, the white shadow spoke in a leisurely tone.
[When that happens, taking up web novels or webtoons wouldn't be a bad hobby.]
"Pardon?"
Web novels? Webtoons? Out of nowhere?
[There may be hints in them for how to use your abilities.]
"What on earth—"
[Fighting!]
And then…
…everything went white.
She was dreaming.
"…Another weird dream."
An everyday morning, the same as any other.
But when she sat up in bed, she met a slightly odd sight.
"…?"
Her hands were clasped.
She had fallen asleep with her palms pressed tight together, as if praying to someone.
Why in the world am I in such a pose?
"…Must be the sleeping pills."
She felt sure she'd had a significant dream.
Yet nothing would surface.
"Haa."
Recently the nightmares had grown worse. Maybe it was time to quit the pills.
She felt like scolding herself.
The instant she let out a sigh, an absurd sound slipped between her lips.
"Uh?"
It was astonishing.
[I'm pathetic.]
Because right there in the empty air, where nothing should be, proper letters floated.
And that wasn't the end.
[Huh? Letters? Is this a dream?]
Words kept appearing in mid-air.
Her voice grew even stupider.
"Eh?"
[Eh?]
"…"
[…]
"What on earth—"
The moment she stretched out her hand, as though it had all been an illusion, the letters vanished.
"…"
Why?
A hallucination? But it had been too crisp to be a hallucination—no wavering.
Sleeping pills? Taken to excess they could deepen hallucinations, but the ones she used couldn't cause visions the morning after.
Then why had those vivid letters vanished in an instant when nothing had chan—
"Ah."
She looked down.
Her hands. Her palms.
With a sinking hunch, she resumed the praying pose on the bed.
[No way?]
"…"
As if on cue, letters bloomed again.
She muttered blankly.
"…Impossible."
[Impossible.]
"Could it be—"
[Am I insane?]
"…"
Spellbound, she spent the whole morning testing this sudden mania.
Glancing at the wall clock, she found it was noon, already midday.
"Super-powers? No, impossible. That can't… except… it actually—"
She still didn't know.
That what she had just experienced would one day be called an "Awakening."
That most Awakeners had to endure enormous trial and error just to learn what their power was.
That she, by contrast, had grasped her abilities' nature far too easily, absurdly fast.
That others would call it luck and envy or resent her, claiming it was coincidence.
But in truth, it was inevitable.
"…"
She still didn't know.
That come summer, she would fall in love with someone.
-x-X-x-
The Receiver XIII
"At last, it's finished."
"You've worked hard."
"Soon, even this intermission will be over."
"That's a pity."
"I'm sorry. It seems I used up too much power. My eyes can hardly see… Could you hold my hand?"
"Of course."
"Haah…"
"I never imagined talking to my past self would be this exhausting. Back then I was truly young—far too young."
"Mm. Don't worry. I'm sure it was conveyed well enough."
"Do you think so?"
"Certainly. This isn't empty consolation. It was conveyed so clearly that the Saintess reached this place."
"…You're right."
"To be honest, I don't clearly remember what I heard in that dream."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. It's just… so much time has passed."
"Ah."
"It can't be helped. Unlike Mr. Undertaker I don't have [Complete Memory]. Hundreds of years, thousands, tens of thousands... Every precious memory has faded."
"…I see."
"That's why I turned to diaries so often. What happened, which memories must never be lost—just like reincarnated protagonists jotting down their past-life knowledge…"
"..."
"For me, perhaps this very world was an otherworld from the start."
"Is this the notebook you used as a diary? It's terribly worn."
"I've looked through it more times than I can count. Especially when I used [Time Stop] to block Hecate—no, Nut. When I had to live in a world frozen for 2,000 years, it helped me a lot."
"..."
"It was a little hard."
"Of course I have no regrets. If I hadn't stepped in, the world would've perished and your regression been endangered, so I had no choice. It's just… one day I awoke and realized I couldn't recall other people's voices."
"It grew harder to picture Ms. Noh Do-hwa's tone in my head."
"Ms. Cheon Yo-hwa's laughter wouldn't surface."
"Mr. Undertaker's voice… slipped away from memory."
"So, in that stopped world I would often—no, constantly—climb to the roof of Tower of Babel and look at you all. Even if I couldn't summon the voices, faces at least—though you were like statues—were still visible."
"In fact."
"When I decided I was strong enough, when I thought it was time to lift the [Time Stop] and face you again, I worried a lot."
"What worried you?"
"Whether I could... properly act like the me from 2,000 years ago. I wasn't confident."
"Would the language I speak be intelligible? Would my expressions look strange?"
"Would I look… like a monster?"
"I was a bit worried."
"But think about it, Mr. Undertaker, you're the same. You endured an equally long time… So whichever way it turned out, it wouldn't matter."
"Even if I'd become a monster, we could just be monsters together."
"And if we could remain human… we'd remain human together."
"…"
"It's all white. Everything."
"Saintess."
"Yes. Your hand…"
"Right here. I'm still holding it."
"Mr. Undertaker has actually gained a new ability."
"Eh?"
"You won't understand yet… but Ms. Dang Seo-rin cast an incredible—truly incredible—spell on you."
"A spell powerful enough to move a universe. Born of the sole wish to stay by your side despite being a monster—truly miraculous."
"While that spell is singing in your heart, you… will be able to hear the voices of the anomalies."
"The voices of the anomalies?"
"Yes. Just as only you could understand Dang Seo-rin-ssi's voice… from the next cycle on you'll comprehend the anomalies' screams."
"…"
"Perhaps, mine as well."
"The fact we can talk so easily may also be thanks to Ms. Dang Seo-rin's magic."
"I don't understand."
"It's all right. It's your miracle. Surely… as you said, another comrade will recognize it someday."
"It's amazing."
"…Talking to my past self, I realized this."
"In the end, what I needed to keep living might have been just a single human being."
"Somewhere in this world, if at least one person hasn't given up…"
"If a beautiful human being could exist."
"Even if it's only one."
"…If I have seen—am seeing—that proof with my own eyes, I won't choose death. Never."
"Thank you, Mr. Undertaker."
"Always, always… forever. I'm grateful I met you, grateful you lived."
"Always…"
"Forever…"
"Again, there. At the convenience store."
'…'
"Saintess?"
'…'
"Saintess."
'…'
"…"
"I was always grateful too. Thank you for waiting until we could meet."
"I'll come find you again in the thousandth summer."
"Miss Ye-ji."
There is an epilogue.
As I stressed last time, this story, too, was a manuscript the Regressor never reviewed.
Precisely for that reason, there were many points where I could pound the typewriter freely.
For example.
"Saintess, from now on you must hide your real name not only when playing the Constellations but also in daily life."
"Eh? Why is that?"
I can now reveal in full the part of that first-meeting conversation the Regressor deliberately [CENSORED].
Why hide anything?
I proudly fancied myself a scoundrel.
"A name is the most basic ingredient, and the frame, of any spell."
The 1,000th cycle.
The Regressor who etched a feat for the ages, conquering Hecate, travelling with Go Yuri, rescuing the Saintess, remembered none of it.
The moment he opened his eyes in the waiting hall of Busan Station he blurted, 'Huh? I was just drinking with Dang Seo-rin, so why—?' panicked, then in the restroom, 'Wait? Why can't I feel the Saintess's warmth even though I touched the mirror?' utterly confused.
Facing a situation too baffling to grasp, he simply copied what ordinary people do.
Ah, whatever. Let's stick to the routine.
"From now on, Saintess, you'll play a key role in the peninsula's spiritual infrastructure, so you mustn't reveal your weak point to anyone."
"…"
Thus, as in any cycle, the Regressor went to persuade the Saintess.
Near Jamsu Bridge.
Beneath the parasol of a ruined convenience store, the Regressor and the Saintess were having their thousandth 'first meeting.'
"So Mr. Undertaker already knows my real name? Even though I never told you?"
"Of course. I heard it in the 36th cycle. After that we skipped introductions."
"I see."
Up to here, events matched other cycles.
However.
"Then… would you call me by my name just once?"
"…Pardon?"
For some reason.
The Regressor saw a brand new response, never observed before.
Across the table, the Saintess sipped a canned drink and stared expressionlessly at him.
"Sorry? Did I mishear?"
"I asked you to call me by my name."
"Uh... Saintess?"
"Not the title, my real name."
She spoke remarkably straight. She always pronounced perfectly by abusing [Time Stop]; she would never stutter like a northern knock-off Saintess.
She was genuine.
"I believe you're a Regressor, but I still need to verify whether you truly know my name."
"Ah...?"
"Besides, if this is the 1,000th cycle, the 36th is ages ago. We could update it once, couldn't we?"
"Update? Update what… hm."
About to argue, he closed his lips.
He hadn't used [Mind Reading], he simply reached the conclusion.
'Indeed. I've been making an unreasonable demand.'
He had just told her, 'Give up being addressed by your real name for life.'
Since he'd never been called by his own name, it hadn't struck him, but it might be lonely for her.
'Was I too insensitive?'
A brief self-reproach.
"Kh-hm."
He cleared his throat.
Tens of thousands of years had passed since he last said her name, so it felt strangely awkward.
Blankly—
Her gaze felt embarrassing for some reason.
"…"
"…"
At last he opened his mouth.
"…Well."
"…"
"Um."
"…"
"…Ms. Ye-ji."
Blink.
She blinked.
Finding no change, he tried again.
"Ms. Ye-ji."
"…"
"Ms. Jeong Ye-ji."
Jeong Ye-ji.
A tiny white sandbank that surfaces where the current bends.
White crafted by time.
It seems a thousand summers were needed to speak that white name.
"…"
While he shyly averted his eyes, something more disconcerting happened.
Squeeze.
Warmth covered the hand he'd left on the table.
"M-Ms. Y-Ye-ji?"
He was genuinely flustered.
The Saintess had taken his hand!
Today was supposed to be the 'first meeting,' after all.
"Um. Why all of a sudden…?"
"…"
Yet she did not release him. No—she interlaced their fingers.
And intently examined his face.
If Constellations were real, messages would be exploding.
She murmured.
"I still don't quite know."
"…?"
"But maybe I understand a little."
"...??"
She let go and bowed her head.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Undertaker. I had something to check."
"Uh… no need to apologize. I was just startled. You never initiated physical contact at our first meeting before."
"Was that so."
"Ah, yes."
"…"
"…"
Imagine the greatest awkwardness, insert it here, and endure five seconds.
"Well then, shall we return to the main topic?"
"Yes, let's."
Afterwards they discussed how to run the Constellation system and what the Regression Alliance would be.
To the anomaly-slayer regressor this part would be vital, but the historian thought otherwise.
It mattered not a whit.
Instead, the side story values another part.
For example:
"Ah, right. Saintess."
"Yes?"
"When I go to Busan next, please don't observe me with [Clairvoyance] for one day."
Here. This part.
"Of course. Even though we're allies, I won't spy if you don't want me to."
"Ahaha. Thank you."
"But I am curious. May I ask why?"
"Ah. I'm meeting someone, purely for personal reasons."
"…"
Originally she answered, 'All right,' and kept her word.
Thus she realized days later that Dang Seo-rin stood by him. For someone as noble as the Saintess, harboring 'that' feeling toward one who already had a partner would be unthinkable, so she neatly arranged her heart.
It wasn't hard.
Controlling emotions still mere seeds is easy.
She even liked romanticists like Dang Seo-rin.
The monster-lover Regressor knew nothing, but the Saintess had cheered Dang Seo-rin on for countless cycles.
With all sincerity.
"…"
But what miracle is this.
From the 1,000th cycle on, she checked his warmth the moment they met. In truth she measured her own heart.
There was no need, it was warmer than the Han River.
"I see."
She nodded slowly.
"All right. I promise not to watch you that day."
"Ah, thank you."
She smiled faintly.
"Think nothing of it. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Undertaker."
As you can guess,
that became her monumental 'first lie.'
-x-X-x-
The Suicidal I
Have you ever, perhaps all of a sudden, for no particular reason, out of the blue and through no fault of your own, found yourself seized by a premonition like this?
――Something has gone wrong.
What, exactly, has gone wrong? That was hard to explain. Why the situation had arisen was even harder to grasp.
And yet I could feel it.
Not with my head but with my heart.
――Something… something truly crucial had gone irretrievably wrong.
Yes.
In short, I had recently started to sense, from somewhere I could not pinpoint, that I was utterly doomed.
"Undertaker. Good mor-ning."
"Ah, Dang Seo-rin. Good morning."
"Fuaaah. Honestly, the weather's gorgeous these days, isn't it? It used to be tricky to go walking because the fine dust turned up whenever it felt like it, but I guess even the end of the world has its upsides."
"Mm."
"Oh! One of my guild mates said the plum and cherry blossoms are in full bloom all around Beomeosa Temple. Want to go today? We could grab lunch there, too."
"Uh. Th-that sounds good. Fine by me. Yesterday and the day before we definitely tore around everywhere for flower-viewing as well—"
"What?"
"I'll pack sandwiches."
"Yup!"
"…"
"What?"
"Nothing. I was just going to ask what kind you'd like."
"Hey, anything tastes good if you make it!"
"Right."
…Dang Seo-rin was acting strange.
Granted, Dang Seo-rin had always been strange.
Whenever the impulse to travel or play hit her, not even the entire Samcheon World guild charging in could stop her.
But—
"Isn't the frequency kind of weird…?"
And that wasn't all.
No matter how much spontaneous wanderlust she possessed, ever since we entered the 1,000th cycle the intensity had ramped up.
"Undertaker! Good mor-ning."
Last winter she suddenly wanted to see Hokkaido's Christmas tree, so the two of us went off on a Japan trip (post-apocalypse Japan boasts S-class travel difficulty, let me repeat).
And that wasn't all.
"Undertaker, another glo-rious mor-ning."
Last summer she whipped up a giant water park at Haeundae with magic, rented the whole thing for the two of us, and splashed around all night long.
And that wasn't all.
"Good moooorning, Doc!"
A fortnight ago she actually resurrected the National Singing Contest, took contestants from every guild and faction, built a special stage in Tower of Babel Square, plunged all of Busan into a frenzy—and then hauled me onstage for the final duet.
"Undertaker! Goo—"
"Today is a very—"
"Good morning!"
Every single day. Day after day after day after day.
Almost daily, Dang Seo-rin dreamed up and carried out wild events.
By now even the narrator from the TV show Master of Living would be running in "having fun" mode.
Thanks to her, the citizens' happiness index had been soaring like a civilization devouring every last luxury resource.
"Huu. She really shows up at dawn every single day to offer a morning greeting…"
Of course one particular Busan citizen (a former level-7 public servant) who harboured fundamental doubts about the idea of "happiness" had a different view.
"I can't even tell whether she belongs to Samcheon World or the National Road Management Corps anymore. Wouldn't it be simpler if the two of you just lived together?"
"…I apologise, Director Noh Do-hwa. I'll just go down to the Samcheon World station every morning, say hello and come back."
"Well, I didn't mean to nit-pick quite like that… anyway, it's none of my business. Show us some fancy footwork, will you…?"
"?"
Yes.
For some reason, in the 1,000th cycle Dang Seo-rin seemed to have jammed the button marked "Change course: massively strengthen diplomacy with Undertaker."
I had no way of knowing it yet, but it actually hadn't started only in the 1,000th.
Since the 1,000th cycle—and onward—it had been this way without a break.
"Why on earth?"
"I eliminated every opening for a butterfly effect, didn't I?"
Confusion upon confusion.
In the end, unable to stand it, I once leaned on the courage alcohol lends you and asked her point-blank.
"Seo-rin, why are you trying so hard to spend time with me?"
"Hmm. I can't help it. I keep hearing good music from you."
"Music?"
"Mm-hm."
I already knew that Dang Seo-rin intuitively perceived the world in terms of sound.
Still—was the music she sensed from me, Undertaker, really that good? From a normal standpoint it was absurd. How good would a song have to be to shrink the distance between two people overnight?
"Here."
Pok.
She extended her arm and pressed a fingertip to my chest.
"From right here—truly. I hear a wonderful sound. Part humming, part a cappella… It really calms my heart."
Then, cheeks flushed with drink, she laughed he-he, completely fearless.
"When I'm beside you, it feels as if lies and bluffing vanish on their own. So, I like it."
"...…."
Alert alarm.
According to the special laws of the Republic of Korea, the person in charge of an alert alarm—a civil-defence warning issued when enemy attack is expected—is Doridori Dad, the beaver who has mastered the greatest Sound Technique in Bonobono[1].
Even if an enemy launches an unexpected "heart-thump attack," Doridori Dad's alert must be triggered, and Doridori Mom must immediately be dispatched to whack every hostile entity on the shins.[2]
The end.
If it wasn't obvious from that nonsense, my brain's language centre was in total panic.
"Dang Seo-rin! What's going on? I don't think we were ever this close!"
And that wasn't all.
[Hello, Mr. Undertaker.]
[Good morning.]
At some point, every time I woke up a Saintess-brand KakaoTalk arrived as though she'd been waiting.
"Ah, yes."
At first I didn't think much of it.
The Saintess is the one who got granted humanity's wish to "subtract sleep time from our lifespan," so having cast off sleep she can run [Clairvoyance] twenty-four hours a day. Working out when I got up was trivial.
The problem came next.
"Saintess, good morning to you as well."
[....]
"Saintess?"
[....]
"Um."
[....]
"…"
[....]
"…Good morning, Ms. Ye-ji."
[Yes. I hope you have a pleasant day too, Mr. Undertaker.]
"Right…"
Why on earth!
Why (why)! How come (how)! for hundreds of cycles the Saintess had never fussed over names yet (why)! Starting with the 1,000th cycle (why)! She suddenly cared about forms of address (why)!
While the refrain echoed in my skull, I clutched my head.
"So you came to me for counseling…?"
Oh Dok-seo muttered, chewing a cheese stick.
"Yeah."
"Hm. You picked the right woman, mister. I don't know how you found out, but I happen to be a dating master."
"Really?!"
"Sure. I've cleared thirty-six classic dating sims and twelve of the latest."
"…"
"Oddly enough the heroines I support never get their own routes, but that's not my fault—the scenario writers have no taste."
"What is your favourite heroine in Tsukihime[3]?"
"Satsuki[4], obviously."
"Tsuki ni Yorisou Otome no Sahō?"
"Nanami[5]."
"Who's the true strategist—Zhuge Liang, Pang Tong or Xu Shu?"[7]
"If I must pick, Beopjeong[8]."
"…"
And here I was forced to rely on a lunatic with terminal Sub-Heroine Syndrome.
Again I wondered if my long regressor life had gone wrong somewhere.
"Why? You've got others."
"Could you ask Ah-ryeon?"
"Ah."
"Would you get a straight answer from Yu Ji-won or Noh Do-hwa?"
"There's Ji-soo."
"You want me to dump this on a kid who's busy healing awakened folks' trauma? I'm human too."
"Mm."
Oh Dok-seo folded her arms and thought.
"What about Mr. Seo Gyu?"
"He's the Saintess's mole."
"Ah."
"Every day he says 'Boss, my lips are sealed,' and the next morning the Saintess already knows. It's happened more than once."
"What about Ha-yul?"
[ABSOLUTELY OPPOSED!]
Flash.
The instant Lee Ha-yul heard my dilemma she grabbed her sketchbook and launched a picket protest.
[OPPA NO REMARRIAGE!]
"Wait, remarriage? Old man, you've never been married, right…?"
Oh Dok-seo glanced at me.
"Of course I haven't! The most fatal cliché among the 108 ways to break a regressor's heart is falling in love or having a child, only to have the memory erased in the next cycle! I'm not insane!"
"But you do have those 'non-existent memories' from before the fourth cycle."
"…"
Oh Dok-seo poked a finger.
"You sealed the people closest to you first with [Time Seal]. Odds are high you sealed your spouse first."
"…At the very least, no such memory exists!"
"Huum. Interesting."
[ABSOLUTELY OPPOSED!]
[Oppa is too valuable for anyone ordinary.]
[If Oppa dies, civilisation rebuilding collapses—proved as follows.]
[If the Saintess dies, we can last twenty years. If Dang Seo-rin dies, no problem. BUT Oppa? We start by surrendering Pyongyang, Seoul and Sejong to the monsters. QED.]
[If you must remarry, I recommend this puppet. Highly capable, all-purpose.]
"No. Are you nuts? That doll maid is secretly your mother."
[I don't see a problem?]
"Hm."
"Now you see why Ha-yul never made the counsellor shortlist?"
"Okay. Got it."
Oh Dok-seo made a wry face.
"Turns out I'm the only colleague with a neutral viewpoint."
"Exactly. That's why Seo-rin noona and the Saintess keep looking after you."
"Gasp. Was that why?"
Oh Dok-seo was shocked.
"I thought they spoiled me because I'm cute!"
"…"
Strange. Why do I have so little luck with people?
"Excuse me."
While we were still deep in discussion a small voice spoke. All three of us—me, Oh Dok-seo and Lee Ha-yul—whipped our heads around.
There stood Cheon Yo-hwa, the elder twin, wearing an ambiguous smile.
"I'm happy you dropped by, Sunbae, but barging in together and chattering like a marketplace is a bit much."
"Mm."
"I get that you're in a bind, but do you have to discuss it here? Honestly this is my sanctuary—I'd like it to stay dignified and mysterious…"
Right. We were huddled in the forbidden zone where Cheon Yo-hwa had been placed under [Time Seal].
"Sorry, but there's no help for it."
"Why, Sunbae?"
"Anywhere else, even a sealed room, the Saintess can peep in with [Clairvoyance]…."
"Ah."
Cheon Yo-hwa's brows drew together.
"Didn't she usually stop when you asked her not to watch? That's how I remember it."
"She did, but for some reason in this cycle she keeps watching. Just my impression, but."
"Hu-u-m."
One eye closed—her thinking habit.
"…True. Up till now she surrendered on her own, so it was odd. In fact she has the biggest advantage."
"Biggest advantage?"
"Yes. She knows every weakness of the people around you. She knows who said what, who did what."
Cheon Yo-hwa gave a tiny snort.
"She always looked calm and blank, so I could never read her. Turns out it was only a matter of time."
"...?"
"It's just my little sneer, Sunbae."
She smiled with her eyes.
"Instead of worrying, why not treat this as a chance?"
"A chance?"
"Yes, a chance. Once you've conquered the entire Void, you'll have to try the romance you've kept off-limits, right?"
"Uh-huh."
"When that day comes, how will everyone react? That, too, may be knowledge a regressor needs."
Is that so?
"And since it's the 1,000th cycle, your vacation run, why not…"
Cheon Yo-hwa beamed.
"…conduct one experiment. Try a 'fake' romance, just once."
Footnotes:
[1] Bonobono (ぼのぼの) – A long-running four-panel manga by Mikio Igarashi that began serialization in 1986. It follows the laid-back everyday antics of a young sea-otter and his woodland friends and has been adapted into multiple TV anime series (1995; 2016-) and a 1993 theatrical film.
[2] Doridori Dad / Doridori Mom are a beaver couple from Bonobono. Doridori Dad is famed in-series for his exaggerated head-wagging "dori-dori" shout; here they are jokingly cast as Korea's civil-defence alert team.
[3] Tsukihime (月姫, "Moon Princess") – A 2000 adult visual novel by Type-Moon that laid the foundation of the Nasuverse; remade in 2021 as Tsukihime –A piece of blue glass moon–.
[4] Satsuki Yumizuka is a minor classmate character in Tsukihime. Fan adoration for Satsuki's brief screentime spawned the long-running meme "Give Satsuki a route!" because she had no dedicated romance path in the original game.
[5] 달에 다가서는 소녀의 작법 (月に寄りそう乙女の作法, Tsuki ni Yorisou Otome no Sahō; common Korean abbreviation "달작법") – A 2012 Japanese PC visual novel by Navel, often rendered in English as The Etiquette of the Girl Who Approaches the Moon. The story follows a boy forced to cross-dress and serve as a butler in an elite girls' school.
[6] Nanami Nanai is a side-heroine from Tsuki ni Yorisou Otome no Sahō; a devoted maid whose popularity belied the fact she, too, lacked a full romance route until later fandisc content.
[7] Zhuge Liang, Pang Tong, Xu Shu – Historical strategists from the 14th-century novel Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Thanks to Koei Tecmo's Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Dynasty Warriors game franchises, modern players debate which adviser was Liu Bei's "true" mastermind—the very topic parodied in the dialogue here.
[8] Beopjeong, born Pak Jaecheol, was a Buddhist monk and writer from South Korea.