Chapter 118
Chapter 118
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 118
Chapter Title: Tormentor Shin Noah 1
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It's been a while, so let me share a short anecdote about Old Man Show.
"Salt Guy."
"......"
As I mentioned once before, Old Man Show often called me 'Salt Guy.' It was because my moniker was Undertaker, a job that salted others.
The saying 'Ah is different from Eh' is meant for times like this.
It was just one vowel different from 'Salter' to 'Salt Guy,' but Old Man Show's highly developed Korean pronunciation mixed in the resonance of 'You sick bastard.'
This proved that Old Man Show's mental state hadn't yet escaped infancy. He was trying to prove his power advantage by giving people the most malicious nicknames and naming them in front of others.
In the eternal election battle between innate goodness and innate evil, the latter earned another precious vote from the electorate today.
"Salt Guy. Why no answer? Did you cut off your tongue and donate it to a beggar? Hey, you punk. Even beggars shouldn't be tormented like that."
"You sick......"
"Oh ho, Salt Guy. It's quite satisfying to see you embodying the Parthenon temple maxim 'Know thyself,' but how can you demean yourself like that? And you claim to be a regressor? All human value is equal. Even if you're a sick bastard, you're a salter, not sickness itself."
Just which author taught native Korean to the German old fogey in front of me?
It couldn't have been anything less than a truly astonishing language instructor. If I found out who it was, I'd love to pay them a visit and gift them a courteous stab.
"So, what is it? What new bullshit are you planning to unveil this time?"
"You have better memory than me, so you'd know more accurately. That kid over there."
Old Man Show pointed at someone.
A child around five years old. A girl was running around between a young couple running a bakery in Busan Haeundae.
Old Man Show said,
"In the last regression, it was definitely a boy."
"......"
"As the regressions change, the couple's child changes too. The kid who was supposed to be born to them originally has vanished. Right?"
That wasn't all. I hadn't told Old Man Show, but I remembered it precisely. The fact that the couple's child always changed with each regression.
In the 18th round, it was a boy; in the 17th too, but with a different appearance; in the 11th, it was twins. Even the timing of pregnancy and birth was subtly different. Across all regressions, not a single identical child was ever born.
"So what? Why are you suddenly asking about that?"
"Think about it. Doc."
When he had serious things to say, Old Man Show would call me 'Doc' instead of Salt Guy.
"Every time we regress, doesn't that mean all the kids who existed in the previous world, all the newly born humans, just vanish completely?"
"...Not all of them."
"Yeah. Lives unaffected by the butterfly effects we cause remain the same. But after the Ten Tribes were subjugated, I really started feeling it. More lives appearing that I'd never seen before."
"With the Ten Tribes subjugated, more people felt safe settling on the Korean Peninsula permanently. It's only natural."
"Why pretend you don't get it? That's not my point. Because of our two regressions, kids are being erased from the world forever! Memories, existences. Everything! Except for you with your exceptional memory!"
"......"
"I'm worried—more precisely, because I'm struggling—that the ripples of the butterfly effects I'm inadvertently creating might be doing something malicious to those small, young things."
An indescribable guilt settled in the wrinkles of Old Man Show's aged brow.
Much later, I learned that there had been one miscarriage in the Schopenhauer couple. Old Man Show was projecting his own wounds onto the 'lives that disappear' when regressions pass.
Perhaps that's why Old Man Show decided to go on 'vacation'?
Erasing his own traces. By not interfering at all with lives yet to be born, to prevent their existences from being futilely erased.
"Hmm."
"...What's with that sticky expression?"
"Nothing. Just."
But my thoughts were a bit different. Not just thoughts, but emotions too.
Perhaps from this moment, the paths of Old Man Show and I were destined to diverge.
Because I felt no guilt whatsoever toward the 'vanished lives.'
Of course, I felt regret and sorrow.
For instance, the child Old Man Show pointed out had helped mom and dad make glutinous rice donuts, made too many, and even gave some to me as a gift.
"Big bro! Ahh-ahh!"
The child's laughter, the touch putting the donut in my mouth, the stiffness of bending down awkwardly to receive it, the stickiness of too much sugar on the glutinous rice donut's surface, my 'Wow—so delicious!' reaction, and the parents' shy thanks in return.
All those memories remained with me.
Yes. I admit it.
I'll never again receive a sugar donut from the Haeundae bakery kid, five-year-old Jung Seo-ah, our little baker who wanted to make bread because her mom and dad were so cool.
Is Jung Seo-ah the only one etched in my heart like grains of sand? Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of losses cling to a regressor's years.
Shadows exist not only in space but in time too, and we named those shadows memories. As the human who's lived the longest time, the darkest memories loomed over me.
But the emotions my heart shed were sorrow, wistfulness, longing.
I can confidently say they were different in texture from guilt.
From the start, the objects of my guilt were limited.
Mainly to the tombstones I buried forever through [Time Seal]. In other words, only to those I personally entombed eternally did guilt congeal.
"Old timer. Didn't I tell you last time?"
"Huh? What?"
"You know, why the kids born change subtly each regression, so isn't it that existences are being erased every time we regress?"
"Eh? When did I say that....... Ah, ah! That?"
Old Man Show glared at me fiercely.
"Is there really such a crazy bastard?"
"......?"
"You sick fuck! That was a story from way before the 3rd round! Suddenly talking like it was yesterday's chat, all casual? You bastard. You're doing this on purpose to paint me as a forgetful old geezer, right?"
Old Man Show huffed. It took three minutes to calm him down.
So I couldn't even joke, 'Didn't you once tell me not to call people sick bastards? Why change your words now?'
When dealing with someone much older, you have to yield a lot.
"Doc. If you don't fix that bullshit habit, you'll get a big lesson someday."
"Indeed. Hearing that from a geezer whose whole body is metastasized with bullshit cells suddenly gives me a sense of urgency."
"No, why is this bastard's tongue getting longer by the day......? Salt Guy! Where did the pure you from the old days go?"
"Who knows. Maybe dragged off by a German, gassed, and croaked."
"You racist bastard! My family supported the Social Democrats since the Reichstag days! My ancestors were arrested too!"
"Yeah, no matter how much a white guy frames an Asian with racism, it won't stick. Anyway, old timer, I pondered your words long and hard. And I can't agree."
We were walking along Haeundae.
The sandy beach, once a symbol of vacation on the Korean Peninsula. Had humanity stolen all the jewels named lost civilizations from here? The water held blue emeralds.
"If young lives vanish every regression, then conversely, doesn't that mean lives that wouldn't have been born before are coming into existence thanks to us?"
"...Huh?"
"If there were no regressions, the humans born in this world right now would all be predetermined. But the more intense the typhoon of butterfly effects we cause, the farther it spreads, the more entirely different possibilities briefly glimpse the world."
"......"
"Of course, it's not a great world. Humans in every generation grumble they were born in the worst era in history, but right now it's truly the worst era short of the Ice Age. Still, I think it's better to pass through life here even briefly than in the utter abyss of nothingness."
Crunch. Grains of Haeundae sand crunched under my shoe.
"And do we regress because we want to? It's the monsters' fault. The ones who should feel guilt are those monster bastards—why should we innocent ones take responsibility for the world's end?"
"Ha."
"Old timer. In my view, there's no need to feel guilt for lives already gone, nor claim credit for newly arrived ones. Just our resolve to prevent world destruction weighs heavy on our backs. Adding nonexistent responsibility and snapping our own spines is needless folly."
"......"
"If you must feel guilt, old timer, that too is a resolve, so I won't stop you—but precisely to that extent, you should feel joy for the newly born children to be proper."
"......"
"As I'm no great sage, my heart isn't broad enough for both emotions. I'll choose to feel neither guilt nor joy toward new lives."
For a long time on the beach, only the sounds of waves, sand, and footsteps rustled.
So, I had just advised Old Man Show, 'Don't be too sad.'
"The kid who couldn't understand a single line from the Analects has become so clever when."
Like an old sea spitting waves, a sigh flowed from Old Man Show's mouth.
"Yeah. It's hard to muster courage to gain something, but even harder is the courage to let go. Doc. As a regressor, perhaps you're more suited than me."
I couldn't hastily agree with that soliloquy.
But one certain fact was that my words likely offered little comfort. As you know, Old Man Show eventually went on vacation with his beloved wife.
I still didn't assent to Old Man Show's claim.
Only when I saw Sim A-ryeon reduced to 1-bit graphics smiling did I briefly wonder if perhaps I was 'doing something malicious' to other children.
"Mister!"
It was while strolling the beach like that.
"Hm?"
"Ah-ah!"
A very small boy came running up, thrusting glutinous rice donuts at me. Over his shoulder, the familiar bakery couple smiled cautiously.
I instantly understood the entire situation.
"Ah-ah!"
"......"
In the 19th round, thousands of years ago, I compared Jung Seo-ah with the child before me.
Their appearances were completely different.
But astonishingly, the taste of the glutinous rice donut I swallowed, including the overly coated sugar's sweetness, was so similar, wasn't it?
My eyes widened. I could only chew and savor it.
"How is it? Delicious?"
"...Delicious. Really, so delicious. You could run a bakery."
The child giggled and trotted back across the sand to his parents' arms. The baker couple, knowing I was key in subjugating the Ten Tribes, bowed their heads.
The sight of sand scattering under the child's footsteps etched clearly in my eyes.
The beach waves lapped at my feet, sweeping away even the last residue clinging to my heart.
'If Old Man Show erases all traces by suicide, perhaps I should live to the end anytime, extending time's flow so newly born lives can walk the earth a bit longer? In the end, time will tell which of us two was wiser.'
As I tried to leave Haeundae with light steps, a strange sense of incongruity gripped my feet.
'Huh. But didn't the kid in the 19th round call me big bro?'
Even comparing pure timelines excluding rounds—in other words, at face value—this time I was a year younger than then.
'Yet why call me mister......?'
Hm.
...Come to think of it, Jung Seo-ah's glutinous rice donut seemed tastier after all.