Infinite Regressor, Chapter 473 - I’m an Infinite Regressor, But I’ve Got Stories to Tell

Chapter 16. Unlike typical cults, they didn't even put a name on a sign, so the followers referred to it simply as ‘the Order’, ‘the Foundation’, or ‘the Great House’. These foreigners upheld devotion with intensity. I'll document the events that transpired across the globe the moment Cheon Yo-hwa and the sisters unified their hearts and minds in prayer. "What's the matter? Tired?" "Uhh, sorry. I'm suddenly feeling sleepy." The report of the said bad ending was as follows. First, 30 seconds. "Yawn. Oh, me too." "Right? Is it the weather...?" Regardless of time, a severe wave of narcolepsy swept through the entire human race globally. "Hey? Whoa! Look at that!" "Wowwwww!" A soccer player, who had been showing off a spectacular dribble across the grass, was shocked when three defenders blocking him suddenly dropped unconscious at the same time. However, he was a professional. The striker quickly maneuvered around the fallen opponents and kicked the ball; when the goalkeeper also collapsed in the wrong position, the net rippled. "Woooo!" Having scored an extraordinary goal, the soccer player ran to celebrate. It was timed perfectly with a derby match. It was a performance worthy of being hailed a hero by the fans. However, it was strange. The cheers of the audience, which should have welcomed his sprint, and the support from fans seemed to diminish the closer he got. "...?" The soccer player turned around, bewildered. One by one, his teammates who had been chasing after him to join in the celebration were also collapsing in succession. They all succumbed to sleep. "What?" Thud. Even the player who had scored the goal collapsed like a puppet with strings cut at the corner of the field. In an instant, the stadium packed with tens of thousands fell silent. "What the... what's going on? What is this?" One home team spectator capturing all this with a smartphone gasped, unable to believe what was unfolding before his eyes. In less than a minute, the once lively stadium came to a standstill. "Crazy, crazy, crazy! Hey! Get up!" "..." "Is it a terrorist attack? Poison gas? Damn, what is this?" Then, after one minute passed. A gush of red liquid shot into view on the smartphone screen that the last spectator was recording with. Bang, bang, bang. Soon, those who had fallen asleep entered eternal rest. Even without being touched, their heads burst like watermelons, spraying bright red juice everywhere. It wasn't just the stands. Patches of green grass were stained with red paint. With heads missing, only the uniforms of both the away and home teams slumped, soaked in red. "...!" The last spectator ran wildly. He couldn't even scream. He didn't understand what was happening. He just had to escape somehow. Bang, bang! Dodging the bursting human heads in real time, even as the blood tainted his body, he swallowed his screams and desperately fled the stadium. "Oh God! Oh God!" His smartphone screen shook incessantly. His gasping breaths, groans, the explosive redness—everything was being recorded. However, even after leaving the stadium, his despair did not end. Seeing the streets already painted entirely red, he stopped in stunned silence. "This can't be... Is this a dream?" "Hey! Hey!" A survivor, seemingly having spotted him, was shouting and running towards him from a distance. But there was no time to feel relief. Before the survivor could cross the intersection, bang! She fell to the asphalt, and her head was gone instantly. "Right. This can't be real. This can't happen in reality. It's a dream. Damn, it's just a dream!" That was the last voice recorded on the smartphone. Finally, the phone dropped to the ground, its screen violently shaking. Then red liquid coated the camera lens, preventing any further recording. Blink. Blink. Blink. At an intersection with neither passersby nor cars, the signal light flickered red. The prayer of the Order continued. "..." "..." The Cheon Yo-hwa sisters merely held each other’s hands tightly, resting their foreheads together. At that moment. Undeniably, the very center of the Earth lay between the sisters' touching foreheads. ‘I can feel it.’ Cheon Yo-hwa quivered with an overwhelming sense of omnipotence. ‘My power is becoming absurdly strong.’ ‘Normally, I’d only borrow the brains of followers to run simulations... But now, it's tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of times stronger than usual.’ It was sheer consumption. ‘This is the divine power… No.’ ‘It’s my power.’ Drop. Globally, as individuals died simultaneously, from each head emerged a single, rich drop of blood. Each drop carried the person’s screams, lamentations, and regrets. Some drops flowed at near lightspeed—while others moved slowly like snails, flowing somewhere. Into the grasp of Cheon Yo-hwa. A crimson storm erupted around the globe. The currents formed by single drops of blood roared, swirling into the tightly clasped hands of praying Cheon Yo-hwa. The followers of the Order, witnessing this bizarre miracle, were enraptured. Truly, their leader was chosen by the heavens! ‘――I must not be intoxicated by this power.’ As for Cheon Yo-hwa herself, despite her heart racing madly, she maintained cold, rational thought. ‘Not all of humanity is dead yet. Our Order is still intact. While I haven't been entirely consumed by the divine yet, while [my] humanity remains—this is the sole opportunity.’ ‘One by one. Calmly, one by one…’ ‘Run the simulation.’ Squirm. The drops of blood gathered, beginning to take shape. They formed a small box. The younger sister, instead of crafting a fairy, shaped an incubus into the form of a box. The elder sister then began to stuff the crafted box with blood drops. "..." "..." The sisters' breathing synchronized. An incredibly intricate task. If even one of them became intoxicated with divine power and refused to cooperate with the other, they would instantly become the sole and unique absolute Outer God of the world. But Cheon Yo-hwa did not betray Cheon Yo-hwa. At the very moment when becoming the sole Outer God was just a step, no, only half a step away, the two sisters entrusted their humanity to the step they didn’t take. ‘Store. Preserve. Record. Remember.’ Cheon Yo-hwa kept her eyes closed. But behind her eyelids, there was no darkness. Vibrant simulations continued to operate incessantly. Dreams were reality, and reality was a dream. Eventually, Cheon Yo-hwa wandered freely through the illusions. Suppressing the rampaging powers of the divine, and focusing solely on her own will and objectives, Cheon Yo-hwa executed the simulations she desired. Blink. “...Hmm?” In front of her appeared Noh Do-hwa, dressed in a wedding gown, frowning her eyebrows. “Who are you…?” Blink. “Huh?" Then appeared Sim Ah-ryeon, stained with paint, looking startled. “Wh-what? Pr-president? Why are you in my room all of a sudden? You could have at least knocked.” Blink. “...?” And next, Jeong Ye-ji, who was pulling out instant noodles from the ceiling as a snack, tilted her head in bewilderment. “Cheon Yo-hwa? Strange. I’ve frozen time, haven’t I?” Blink. Blink. Blink. A kaleidoscope unfolded behind Cheon Yo-hwa’s eyelids. Each mirror surface of the kaleidoscope reflected the protagonists of bad endings. Meanwhile, outside her eyelids, the layer that constituted the reality of this world just moments ago was seeing more and more people’s heads explode. Bang! Even the Order was no longer a safe haven. The outermost ring formed by the outsiders began to crumble. “We don’t have much time.” Cheon Yo-hwa spoke calmly to all the bad endings. “I’m currently using the powers of the Abyss and the Shadow to their fullest extent, simulating your reality.” Abyss. Shadow. These were unfamiliar names to Cheon Yo-hwa, but as she was now, she used them unflinchingly. Cheon Yo-hwa had already crossed the threshold. “Which means, your reality is already in my hands. What you feel and what you live are no longer more than an ephemeral dream created by my powers.” “…” “…” “…” The bad endings remained silent. Even so, the kaleidoscope’s reflected surfaces increased, and the circles formed by the Order’s congregants exploded continuously. “To put it bluntly, the bad endings you have reached have already devolved into mere playthings since the moment of my interference.” “―――.” “―――.” “―――.” At that moment, countless questions poured out from several surfaces. Cheon Yo-hwa felt a flicker of overload. Nevertheless, she bit her lip. She split herself infinitely to respond to every surface, ensuring not a single bad ending was missed. “There’s no point in expressing dissatisfaction to me. If I could achieve this, it means the same thing could happen again at any time. Do you understand?” “….” “…” “…” “Rather, I’d appreciate it if you thanked me. At the very least, I stand here not to make your reality a lie but, quite the opposite, to convey your epilogues into reality. Oh, really, it’s because I’m too kind.” A storm of blood erupted. Finally, even the inner circle of the Order had their heads exploding. Like tumbling dominoes, the congregants offered their souls from the outer to the inner circle. Not many dominoes remained. “Please pray.” Cheon Yo-hwa folded her hands. “Towards that final iteration we might reach one day… Senior... Go Yo-il. Remember earnestly the feelings, memories, and love you wish to leave there.” Clink. “Please place them in Pandora’s Box.” Clink. Clink. Clink. The kaleidoscope-like surfaces shattered. Every broken surface was stained in red blood. When all simulations broke. “Unni.” One last surface remained. It was once labeled ‘reality.’ However, by now it was no different from any other simulated universe, reduced to a playground Cheon Yo-hwa could freely manipulate. Her younger sister was there. “I saw it too... myself with the teacher.” “Yeah.” Blood gushed up from behind her sister's shoulder. The gory walls formed by the inner circle collapsed. Now, even the circle surrounded by only a few dozen elders of the Order was giving way. The blood storm triggered by the explosion resembled a sunset, and her sister seemed to turn her back to an evening borne of blood and flesh. “I’ll forget you, won’t I?” “Yeah.” “But when the time capsule opens, I’ll remember everything that happened here, and all the things that happened elsewhere. I’ll be able to play with you again, just like today. Right?” “…Yeah.” “I love you, Unni.” Her sister smiled. “In a world like this, being born as your family made me really happy――.” Then her sister too was enveloped by the sunset. “…” Humanity perished. All the kaleidoscope surfaces she unfurled shattered, with no piece left untouched by the sanguine flood. In a world submerged in a twilight of blood storms, as the last remaining human, Cheon Yo-hwa wandered through the worlds. “...I’m so sleepy.” She was exhausted. She felt as if she might collapse any moment now. “I can’t sleep here. If I do, everything would be in vain.” Yet, Cheon Yo-hwa persevered, resisting the drowsiness, because there was a destination she had to reach. It wasn’t a particularly hard task. Jumping from surface to surface allowed her to cross several regions in an instant. Blink. Still, she couldn’t stop opening and closing her eyelids while walking. Blink, blink. The overwhelming fatigue and helplessness seemed to squeeze her eyebrows. “I’m not sleepy-. I’m not sleepy-.” With each blink, the landscape morphed bizarrely. With all life having perished and Cheon Yo-hwa owning everything, the world could no longer maintain its original form. Just like when Cheon Yo-hwa first learned to manipulate the dreamscape as if it were a "video" through her newfound powers. Now, however she viewed, however she imagined, the world transformed accordingly. The scene, as it changed, was: "Aha." A vast laboratory. The brains of all humanity floated inside glass cylinders. Each brain ran a simulation, a bad ending looping endlessly. "What's this... A lab where brains float around, continuously looping bad endings depicting the fall of humanity?" Cheon Yo-hwa chuckled. "Truly, to anyone else, it would look like a vision of hell..." But it was a hell of her own choosing. Blink. Cheon Yo-hwa connected herself into those numerous simulated universes. Holding "Pandora's Box" lovingly in both hands, she arrived at the predetermined spot. As per her prearrangement with Go Yo-il, she arrived at Stanford University's campus. "Hmm, hmm-hmmm-♪" Humming. To ward off sleep. There wasn't a soul around. Naturally, she'd only collected worlds that had perished. In worlds where even Go Yo-il had died, Go Yuri didn't exist either. It was clear that Go Yuri always followed suit shortly after Go Yo-il's demise. “Heave-ho. Let’s see—” Cheon Yo-hwa put the box down momentarily and began digging at the appointed spot. She used her hands to dig. Though a shovel would have been easier, the tactile sensation of earth crumbling beneath her fingers was more effective in warding off drowsiness. “Well, this should keep it safe from being washed away by rain!” Her nails were broken. Blood mixed with dirt ran from her fingertips. With a broad smile, she placed Pandora’s Box into the hollow—not deep, but unquestionably the deepest in the universe. She buried it. Tenderly. Covered it. A few tears fell. “Senior.” “If you don’t come later to dig up this time capsule... I’ll be mad, alright?” “And Yu Ji-won too. If you suddenly abandon your studies abroad to stay at Senior's side, even I might get mad.” A small mound was formed. Upon reflection, perhaps the grave was humanity's very first construct designed to transcend time. “…Ah.” Just then. Cheon Yo-hwa realized she made a mistake. “I should’ve asked Senior to place a [Time Seal] on the box before burying it. I forgot?” What a ridiculous oversight. But there was nothing to be done. No matter how perfect the plan, execution often led to unexpected twists. She had been desperate not to be devoured by the Outer God, not to fall asleep until Pandora’s Box was safely buried. “Haha... a mistake, a mistake♪” Squirming. Droplets moved around the mound where the heart of despair lay. They were traces of Leviathan, the Outer God who lost the maiden, Yu Ji-won. “Well, if I kept Senior alive, Go Yuri might have noticed. So, it’s actually better for security.” -… “Okay. It can’t be helped! Leviathan! I bestow upon you the honorable role of gravekeeper.” -… “Whenever anyone related to Senior or someone from this side crosses the Pacific, cause a great deluge. Remain quiet at other times, understood?” -… “Then I shall let you harm me.” -… Cheon Yo-hwa touched a droplet with her fingertip. A drop of blood merged into the clear water. “Our contract is sealed.” Cheon Yo-hwa felt slightly reassured. With such security in place, even the great Go Yuri would likely leave the Pacific be. It was a matter of matchups. After all, an SSS-grade maiden with the ability to assassinate perpetual reincarnators without a hitch was on her side. “Alright.” Thud. Cheon Yo-hwa slumped down. “It’s over...” Her mind quickly went blank. She felt sleepy. Utterly unbearably sleepy. “…I guess I might’ve reached my limit.” Cheon Yo-hwa knew, of course, that this was not just ordinary drowsiness. Signs that the Outer God of the Taiji (Infinite Void/Laplace?) had communicated, that the Outer God of the Mastermind was no longer willing to permit her “self-awareness.” If she closed her eyes like this. If she let herself sink into the almost too-sweet unconsciousness, she would truly become one with the Outer God. “…” Across this hellscape that deviated by mere inches from every reality, every timeline. Just endlessly repeating simulations. Until someone came to find her. “…” And even that wasn’t so bad. For indeed, she was the embodiment of villainy. ‘The world that would have perished to other anomalies anyway,’ ‘Thus, it’s better to swallow the souls of humanity first,’ ‘It’s better to send a happy ending in the form of a time capsule,’ ‘Might as well collect all the bad endings from other timelines too.’ No matter what justification or excuse she gave herself, it didn’t change the fact that it was Cheon Yo-hwa who destroyed the world. The worst part was, even after eradicating humanity, Cheon Yo-hwa felt no guilt whatsoever. “Haha…” The worst human. Blink. Without realizing it, Cheon Yo-hwa had closed her eyes. When she opened them, she had no idea how long she had dozed off. ‘…Huh?’ Strangely, what spread before her wasn’t the stark hellscape of a laboratory. It was a playground. A slightly worn or perhaps neglected playground. The sun was just setting, making it appear as if all the children who had been playing on the swings had gone home. In the middle of that playground, a very young girl and a middle-school boy were squatting, building a sandcastle. She couldn’t mistake their faces. The young Cheon Yo-hwa. And the middle-school-aged Go Yo-il. ‘…What?’ What was happening? Already consumed by drowsiness, Cheon Yo-hwa could only blankly watch the playground game. Her thoughts weren’t functioning well. Only. “I’m really, really rich!” “Sure, sure. You’re rich.” From the so distantly felt playground, the boy and girl’s conversation could be faintly heard, mixing with the crimson sunset. “Really! I even have servants and everything!” “Wow. I wonder why such a wealthy lady is alone in our neighborhood playground.” "This is where Teacher lives... So I lied to my dad and sneaked over!" ... Did she actually have such a past? 'Was I 5? Maybe 4? Did I really meet Go Yo-il back then?' Cheon Yo-hwa searched her memories diligently. But to no avail. '...I can't remember.' No longer did the Outer God's power obey her will. 'And the way I spoke as a little kid, how quaint.' Cheon Yo-hwa gazed endlessly at the playground bathed in the sunset. Perhaps the scene before her was false, a mere illusion conjured by the Outer God’s power, reacting willy-nilly to the maiden's desire just before her eyes would close completely. Perhaps it was the manifestation of her secret inferiority complex towards Yu Ji-won, a desire that she could have met her "senior" earlier, hoping to form a connection before Yu Ji-won did. Perhaps. "Why are you playing with me, oppa?" "Wondering why a kid I've never seen before is on the swing alone makes me concerned." "Concerned? You’re worried about me?" "Yeah." "Oppa, you're such a pushover!" "......" Perhaps such a coincidental moment truly happened in the past. ‘…Ah.’ Just a brief encounter, perhaps an hour long, a fleeting crossing of paths. Her four- or five-year-old self naturally wouldn't remember the face of the boy she played with that day, nor would the boy remember the girl he looked after for an hour. ‘Senior.’ The girl and the boy were building a sandcastle. But neither of them had much talent for construction. The sandcastle they built looked exactly like a sand mound. ‘Senior…’ A small sand mound. ‘I guess I'm the kind of person who can only prove sincerity by dedicating something.’ ‘Flaws and. Deficiencies and.’ ‘I don’t know how to love myself.’ Laughter of the children echoed over the sand mound. ‘Trying to love you…’ To become someone who could entirely love. ‘I think I’ve given up everything.’ Staked everything. Even her humanity. ‘…So, when the day comes.’ When everything succeeds. ‘When I finally confess my feelings to you.’ When you dig up the smallest sand mound in the world. ‘I think I’ll finally be able to… love myself a little confidently.’ A life born with countless flaws. A world with a predetermined bad ending. Even I, in a world fated for destruction, if something can still be achieved. ‘Senior.’ The sunset was fading. Her eyes were closing. Someone seemed to have come to the playground, appearing like a servant here to fetch the girl, upon seeing whom, the girl jumped up and ran off. The girl seemed to wave goodbye. While Cheon Yo-hwa couldn't hear what the boy said back, she imagined he surely responded properly. ‘…I like you.’ And then. Her eyelids closed. An eternal moment of darkness embraced her. The girl, whose name was lost, decided to bid farewell to the sand mound. ‘Please, may it be delivered.’ Pandora’s Box. The time capsule. Today’s sunset. A single love letter. - That Woman C. The End.