Infinite Regressor, Chapter 417 - I’m an Infinite Regressor, But I’ve Got Stories to Tell

Clank-. Infiltration into the cult. Adjusted the timeline so that the 'Cheon Yo-hwa' twins would be born. After their birth, he periodically approached them to influence their way of thinking. To serve as offerings to the Outer Gods while yearning to be free humans. This route required living through 13,160 lifetimes. Clank-. Separation of the Outer God's Taiji, completed. The Outer God could no longer manifest its true form or powers. This phenomenon, where the Outer God became estranged from itself, was briefly named "alienation." This route required 214,734 lifetimes. Clank-, Creak. He grasped the nature of the Outer God Monster Wave. An army that infinitely swallowed death and extended itself. From this anomaly, he isolated, severed, and made independent the 'continuously regenerating ability' known as 'heal.' An anomaly named 'Udumbara' was separately birthed. This route required 3,478,238 lifetimes. “......” He looked down at his own hand. “Time is short.” One might question how a being capable of reincarnation and teleportation could lack time, but such was the truth. 'No matter how long, a newly reincarnated life spans about 40 years at most. Usually, it's around 20 to 30 years.' 'Within a mere 30 years, I must implement all the strategies I've uncovered so far into reality.' There was a limit to overwork. 'On Monday, infiltrate the cult to gain the cult leader's trust as a follower. On Tuesday, head to Turkey to lay groundwork for separating the monster wave from Udumbara...' 'Wednesday entails tutoring the Cheon Yo-hwa sisters again. I must cancel Seo Gyu's trip to Japan to prevent an accident. Next Thursday, if left alone, Noh Do-hwa will die in a car crash.' And, and, and. "I can't save everyone." The butterfly effect of the optimal route. Whenever he or Go Yuri chose a specific route, it affected the world in some manner. Conversely, children born in another route did not exist in the current one. Like Jeong Seo-ah. "...Some things must be let go." What needed to be saved had to be saved. Thus it was decided that billions of beings, once born and those that could have been born on this earth, would be erased from history. “......” And one day, he found himself facing a peculiar scene during a monster wave encounter. -Uuuugh. -So-yeon! It's me, sis! -Were you there all along? In the chaotic mix of the monster wave, weren’t the faces of siblings and relatives—humans who had undoubtedly never been born in the current timeline—evident? “Ah.” He managed a bitter smile. Candidates who fell from the ark of reincarnation composed of time. Traces of previous lives. “Do they also manifest as anomalies?” No wonder. The number of anomalies seemed to exceed that of humanity. So now it appeared that even lives not capable of being born in 'this world' in past lives became anomalies. “With each repeated life, the lost souls added to that procession of the dead will exponentially increase.” Ceasing reincarnation, however, would diminish the odds of humanity's triumph. What a wretched game this was. “Ah, damn it! I quit!” Woosh. A young girl threw a game console. She was the girl who, in this reincarnation, had become his sister. Her name was Oh Dok-seo. “Sis.” He spoke gently. “The console is expensive, you know. You regretted it so much last time it broke from throwing it like that.” “I don't care! It's no fun!” Little Oh Dok-seo pouted. He mentally chuckled in exasperation. 'Who would have thought there'd come a day when I'd be born as Oh Dok-seo's sibling?' Regardless of his thoughts, the work previously undertaken by Go Yuri proceeded as planned. “Hey! Read this!” Oh Dok-seo had a talent. The talent for writing. “Ah, seriously. Why does nobody read this……!” Oh Dok-seo lacked one skill, though. The ability to sell her writing. “That's because your stories always lead the characters into despair, they exchange twisted emotions, nothing improves, and in the end, everyone crashes down together, right?” “That's, that's the flavor! That's it!” “Doesn't seem to match others' tastes.” “Heeing.” If Go Yuri hadn't been born as her sibling. In other words, if there were no reincarnators in the world. Oh Dok-seo would have abandoned her dream of being a writer around age twenty. Despite her preference for dark, twisted stories, her personality was not particularly gloomy. Decent social skills. Quick intuition. Above all, the tenacity to see her tasks through to the end. She would have found a suitable job for herself, simply enjoying the kinds of works that matched her hobby― living as a reader. “But I do like it. Your writing, sis.” “What?” “Your writing. When I read it, it's so transparent, it's like looking at beautifully carved ice.” “......” But Oh Dok-seo's life twisted. The moment she encountered Go Yuri, the reincarnator, it decisively transformed. “R-really? Well then... Maybe I should submit it to a competition?” “Yes! Sis. I’ll be your most reliable reader and editor!” “Uh, uh. Well, okay!” Oh Dok-seo had a sister. “Aah! This character called the Count—I love him so much! Hmm. Indeed. While there's a cliché in novels where a beautiful maiden deserves salvation, your story challenges whether such a cliché can be ethically permissible if pushed to the limit. That's the theme, right? This novel.” “A-yes. Umm... Yeah.” Her sister was exceedingly beautiful and kind, intelligent, and she understood Oh Dok-seo’s lines exactly as Oh Dok-seo intended—or even deeper and wider than Oh Dok-seo's desires. “Sis. I love how you describe landscapes in your stories too! Hmm, it's like the objects are alive and writhing like tentacles.” “T-tentacles?” “Yes. In your novel, characters are depicted as dead objects. Objects are depicted as if alive. By doing so, it adds a particular zest to the reading experience!” “Wow... Y-you really get it.” Her sister’s consideration was profound. She transformed the narrative "techniques" Oh Dok-seo attempted, consciously or subconsciously, into firm "methods." For a reincarnator and regressor, it was a simple piece of advice. Yet, it was ample advice to sharpen the tip of a young child’s pen. Oh Dok-seo was eliminated in her first writing contest. However, this resulted in 500 genuinely disappointed readers existing in the world, lamenting her exclusion. A remarkable feat achieved at just the age of 14. “Sis, wouldn’t this sentence have more flavor if adjusted like this?” “Ooh! You’re right! Haha, truly, there’s no editor like my sister.” “Your writing is beautiful. I get so interested without realizing it that I keep diving into it." “Y-yoyo! You even have a beautiful way with words! Wow, how did such a lovely sister end up in my family... When I look at my friends’ siblings, they seem totally different. I must be one of the chosen people...” “Ahahaha.” Oh Dok-seo’s talent began to blossom. Oh Dok-seo became happy. A flower that had never bloomed in any of the billions of past lives or alternate timelines flourished under the care of the reincarnator-regressor. Oh Dok-seo became happy. Her work was published. The desolation woven into Oh Dok-seo's sentences was like a potent poison, yet humanity, with its ability to digest opium or mercury as if they were tonic, consumed it eagerly. She rose to fame almost instantly. A high school-aged author and her editor sister—what a wild combination indeed. No self-respecting journalist would miss such a compelling story. Nevertheless, reporters cautious enough to question whether these children were being overexposed to media received measly single-digit views that day. "Author!" "Sing further praises for me." "Great literary giant!" "More." "The benevolence and grace of our generation, who puts Shakespeare to shame—Autor Oh Dok-seo!" “Uhehe.” Oh Dok-seo gained a multitude of readers overnight. Among them, three could be distinctly identified as vile obsessive fans beyond a shadow of a doubt. The three were individuals who had no reason to ever cross paths. Yet, whether due to some peculiar fate or someone manipulating the 'route,' the three met, discovering they could share their malevolence. "Huh?" Evil moved swiftly. Had evil not been so swift, perhaps the world wouldn’t be as it is today. “Li-little… sister?” She lacked a sense of security. Because she always grew up with someone whispering close beside her. “N-no… It can’t… be?” The trio, now a criminal group, rushed into the author's home. ‘Coincidentally,’ the author was away. ‘Coincidentally,’ the author’s sister—famed in all the media as a fervent childhood fan and editor, a beautiful young girl—was home. With coercion. Resistance. A verbal dispute. An insult. Being provoked by someone who seemed to understand their every conscious and unconscious thought, the criminals lost their composure. Thus, Oh Dok-seo lost her sister. “......” Oh Dok-seo lost her one and only editor. She lost a mentor younger than herself. She lost a friend. She lost a family member who always played together whenever a new game was released. Oh Dok-seo lost the first reader of her stories. These readers, the anonymous ones who had brought her happiness from the outside world, were responsible. “......” Oh Dok-seo would have ceased writing. However, her resentment was too complex. She couldn't outright hate novels because the person most dear to her was intertwined with them. She blamed the readers. Yet, resenting them entirely was difficult, as the most precious person to her was also a reader. She didn't want to write anymore. However, she realized that only while writing did the presence of her sister remain in her sentences. Oh Dok-seo’s soul was torn apart. A gap was created in her tattered soul. A chasm-like gap. This world was composed of wind, and every human dangled precariously on the edge of a canyon. Every time the wind blew, screams echoed from the places where the cliffside crumpled. These screams were called “awakening cries.” “Hey, you.” “...?” For Oh Dok-seo, writing was a wound. And she regarded those she could only meet through those wounds, sincere humans. The reason was simple. “You’re my little sister, aren’t you?” “......” The most precious being to her always existed not in the present but nestled among the lines of stories long gone by in an afterword. “How did you…?” “I can read, you see. It’s an utterly ridiculous tale. But somehow, reading it, I can feel that it really happened.” Even though their connection had never crossed paths in this life, the other person was staring confidently, certain of their bond. “What are you?” “......” Go Yuri was flustered. And so was I. 'Oh Dok-seo initially read my life story as a novel, didn't she? But... didn’t she begin by reading Go Yuri's tale, not mine?' Just as I was about to ask why, sudden realization dawned. ‘Ah.’ Admin of the Infinite Metagame. The alienated god had likely infiltrated the gap in Oh Dok-seo’s soul. ‘From the start, that Admin of the Infinite Metagame entity confessed that it couldn’t distinguish between Go Yuri and me.’ A chill ran up the back of his neck. ‘Just like how, right now, I am simultaneously—' 'I’m both Go Yuri inheriting a dream and humanity... and the Undertaker continuing Go Yuri’s humanity.’ Naturally then. 'Oh Dok-seo, not just my chronicle, but also Go Yuri’s timeline could be read like a prophecy, earlier than anyone else.’ That moment wasn't now. Currently, Oh Dok-seo’s prophetic ability was slow. Oh Dok-seo, staring at me, recognized only the timeline where we once met, once a family. That was the extent of her 'novel' reading. ‘But... given enough time?’ She could read all of this as a story. No, eventually. Every last bit of this could be sealed away in the form of a story.