Chapter 235
Chapter 235
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 235
Chapter Title: Infinite Regressor, But I Told Tales
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3
What do you think is the overwhelming advantage of living as a regressor?
It's that you can "correct" your black history in the next loop.
History is the record of the victors. And in the apocalypse, surviving is victory itself.
Got it? If you see a regressor in this day and age, think "survivor."
――Dormammu.
There. The mistakes of the previous loop no longer officially existed.
The past where I made a fool of myself in front of my favorite street singer had been erased.
In this new loop, unlike before, I became an avid fan of Cecilia, the Song Queen, alongside Sim A-ryeon.
"G-Guild Master...! To think I get to fangirl with you! It's like a dream!"
No matter the concert's content, I shelled out huge sums for VIP seats every time.
I picked only the most expensive menu items to order during the shows and swept up all the merch.
"I-I'm so happy! Meeting you at Busan Station was the greatest luck of my life!"
"So you can post nonstop brag posts on SG Net?"
"Yes!"
Sim A-ryeon's favorability toward me hit an unprecedented bubble boom.
Inversely proportional, the temperature in Dang Seo-rin's gaze toward me cooled a bit.
Dang Seo-rin's nickname was Song Fairy. Cecilia's stage name was Song Queen. It was blatantly setting up a rivalry for anyone to see.
My true fandom had always been with the Song Fairy forever, but even so, in this loop, Dang Seo-rin stopped singing for me alone when we were together...
It pained my heart, but there was no choice.
The purpose of all this was singular: to correct the black history related to Cecilia = Calypso.
"Ah, you're here again! Mr. Undertaker. Ms. Sim A-ryeon. Signatures for both of you, right?"
"Yes. Please."
"I'm the one who's grateful!"
In this loop, "Cecilia" firmly recognized me as her fan.
And that wasn't all. Just like in past loops, I attended "Calypso's" performances every day at lunch.
Whether masked or not, cover songs or originals, I, the Undertaker, always existed as Cecilia = Calypso's fan.
Naturally, the performer couldn't help but take notice.
"W-Wait a sec! Mr. Undertaker!"
So when Calypso chased after me one day after I'd generously tipped for the live show at the noodle house and left, I wasn't flustered at all.
"Yes. What is it?"
"Huff... That is... Huff... Haa...!"
"Take your time."
Calypso was panting heavily from chasing me with her acoustic guitar slung over her shoulder.
Soon, she lifted her head, her face resolute. It bore the look of someone who'd made a decision.
"I've wanted to tell you for a while, but never got the chance. Actually, I..."
"I know."
"Huh?"
"You're Cecilia, right?"
"......!"
Calypso trembled like she'd been struck by lightning. Her blue eyes stared at me in disbelief.
First strike on the scene.
I smiled calmly, leisurely, yet meaningfully.
My facial muscle control, honed endlessly through regressor life, was at a level where I could method act 24/7. I'd reached the realm of guiding the opponent's mind with expressions alone.
I'd looped with Dormammu just for this moment—no room for mistakes.
"H-How...? Even the boss doesn't know, and I haven't told anyone..."
"A true fan recognizes the singer no matter what stage they're on."
"......!"
Second strike.
Artists are a breed that chronically harbors fantasies about fans, like an illness. They inhale delusions that some white knight fan will appear anytime, anywhere, to fully understand their artistry.
Why else would the idiom "知音" exist since ancient times? It was that deep-rooted.
For Cecilia = Calypso, who'd lived her life as the "masked Song Queen," merely proving herself by imitating other musicians' songs, my lines just now were pure drugs...!
On top of that, the "true fan" who uniquely recognized her was the hero of the Ten Tribes subjugation...!
Cecilia = Calypso's oxygen-starved brain from sprinting was flooded with a lethal dose of dopamine.
"B-But."
She mumbled in clumsy Korean.
"As Calypso, I can't sing at all. My voice, my tone—totally different... No way you could tell..."
"Even if the outward voice changes, the soul within doesn't. I've always found comfort in Calypso's feelings for song."
"Th-Then why didn't you ever let on?"
"I'm just one fan. Like how you always sang at the restaurant even if no one recognized you, I'm satisfied just listening, even if you don't know me."
"......!"
Third strike. Out.
That day, the unknown singer Calypso and the masked Song Queen Cecilia were both saved.
We promised to meet separately next time and parted. On the way back, the Saintess called via constellation voice talk.
[I'm impressed, Mr. Undertaker.]
[Cecilia's singing sounds just like the original artists to anyone—no way to pierce her identity normally.]
[As expected of a regressor who's lived centuries. Impressive. I respect it.]
"You're too kind."
[I've been observing people with Clairvoyance so much that I've gotten lazy at reading hearts.]
[I should take a page from you and reexamine my habits.]
"I'll cheer you on. You'll do better than anyone, Saintess."
No pangs of conscience through the whole process.
Ugly? Typical ugly guild master like his ugly guild member?
Nonsense.
Beauty becomes beautiful only when perceived by someone; ugliness doesn't exist if unobserved by anyone.
My ugliness as the Undertaker was like that. Unknown to all—how could anyone point fingers calling it ugly?
'History distortion success!'
But...
I didn't know yet.
That far in the future, a brat named O Dok-seo would observe my entire life, write it all down, and publish it for the world...
4
Anyway.
"I originally lived in Fukuoka, but everyone around me died... It was agonizing. I couldn't bear to stay, so I came to Busan."
"I see."
"Yeah. I knew a bit of Korean already. And I kept hearing Busan was still okay..."
Cecilia = Calypso's backstory, when I heard it someday, wasn't all that special in these times.
People who'd lost family were everywhere.
That's why folks banded together readily. To replace lost blood ties.
In fiction, there's the cliché: "When apocalypse hits, old bonds shatter, everyone fends for themselves."
Sure, some cases like that, but in reality, the opposite happened mostly.
Survivors desperately united.
If no reason to unite, they even coined neologisms like "empty缘" to clump together.
"But adapting as an outsider was still tough... Ahaha."
What was unique about Cecilia = Calypso was claiming the outsider position in society.
In a word, ambiguous identity.
Ties to the peninsula? None.
Ties in the Japanese archipelago? All dead. Neighborhood acquaintances existed, but she'd abandoned them herself.
Her awakening ability delivered the finishing blow.
Masked Song Queen. A skill that perfectly mimicked other singers' voices.
It suited a rootless wanderer perfectly.
"Indeed. So instead, you passionately sang as 'Calypso,' believing you'd form true bonds with those who recognized your voice."
"Ah... Embarrassing, but yes. Right."
"Hm."
"Someday, I'll build my skills, gather fans! And hold a concert as Calypso at a venue where Cecilia sings—that's my dream! Because that's my true skill!"
I rested my chin on my hand.
How to advise best.
'Easy money-making—why not just be content?' was simple.
But the singer before me wasn't satisfied with that from the start.
'A place that recognizes me.' 'A space to be my true self.'
That's why she worked nights as Cecilia and days hopping restaurants for live gigs.
More sincere toward her dream than anyone.
In a world where morals crumbled, I didn't hate that she threw her all into the fantasy of "true bonds."
So, what I could do as her fan.
"Does it have to be live venues only?"
"Huh?"
"You're ignoring your Cecilia self too much right now. 'Since I'm just a recorder mimicking other singers, that's not my true self'—something like that, right?"
"......"
"I'm fine with it, but Cecilia's fans would be hurt."
"...But they're all fans of the original singers I cover that day?"
"No. There are definitely fans of Song Queen Cecilia."
Like Sim A-ryeon. Or Goryeo Jang.
Unlike me, pretty embarrassing to claim as fans, but fans are fans.
"In my view... You're worried because 'Song Queen Cecilia's' fame overshadows your true singing ability."
"......"
"You want to reveal your true self. Compete with original songs. But fear existing fans will be disappointed if you do."
Calypso pressed her lips tight.
Not refusal—silence laced with agreement.
"This worry stems from not having your own space. Surprisingly simple to fix, maybe."
"...Buy a building and make it my dedicated venue? I thought of that, but still..."
"No. Not that."
I brewed and set down coffee.
"Your ability has immense value. Shift your perspective a bit, and you can feel other singers' songs as 'part of you.'"
"Huh? How...?"
Calypso looked up at me.
A smile spread on my lips.
"Ever considered being a radio DJ?"
5
Music radio program.
If picking the peninsula's most famous, it'd be [Bae Cheol-soo's Music Camp].
In such broadcasts, selecting which singer's song to play falls under "DJ's sense" and "DJ's delivery."
Even in classical shows, the same symphony's recording—when, where, which orchestra—affects it, plus how the commentary's added, defines the DJ's level.
With internet streamers booming, radio's golden age passed twilight into dead of night.
But in this civilization-collapsed era, radio-internet-reverse world unfolded instead.
"Hard to run intact broadcast gear these days. Even scrounged, anomalies contaminate whenever."
Albums or records mixed with "Satan's songs," "music that bores holes in brains"—freak anomalies galore.
"But Calypso's different. With just your voice, you can 'play' countless records."
"Ah..."
"Can't block anomalies perfectly, but your music broadcast would be the world's safest channel."
Calypso murmured.
"Me, music broadcast..."
"Yes. If you limit yourself to live singer, escaping the 'imitation' anxiety's hard. But a DJ always delivering 'exact original singer voices' in these times?"
"......"
"Huge strength and blessing as a DJ. Listeners will be happy hearing your show."
"DJ talent..."
"Yes. Occasionally insert your original songs—they'll love it. No other broadcast replaces your channel."
Calypso stared blankly into space. For a long while.
As coffee cooled, her lips parted.
"...I'll do it. Radio."
"Good decision."
"Yeah. No need to show face... Reading listener stories sounds fun."
It suited her perfectly.
I'd already helped launch "Ravenclaw Busan Branch" radio. Easily provided gear.
After tests, when her delivery satisfied her, this came up.
"Benefactor."
Around then, Calypso called me "Benefactor."
I'd asked to change from "Undertaker" to something obscure—too name-droppy if mentioned on air.
"Benefactor" felt awkward, but her native tongue wasn't Korean, so fair enough.
"Time to name the broadcast—what do you think?"
"Eh. Still undecided?"
"Ahaha. Yeah. 'Tomorrow, tomorrow' kept procrastinating..."
Odd for such a diligent person.
"Hmm."
I tapped the notepad with a pencil. Suddenly jotted a name.
"How's this?"
"Ah. Already? Show me."
Notepad read:
[Nymph Calyps].
Calypso tilted her head.
"Nymph... Calyps? What’s it mean?"
"Hides Cecilia and Calypso."
As known, Cecilia performed at fancy eateries. Fairy houses.
Fairy = Nymph.
Calypso = Calyps.
Twisted slightly, combined.
Hints apocalyptic backdrop without gloom—cute prefix "Nymph."
Calypso, lover of hiding identity, jumped for joy at my explanation.
"Aaah! Sounds good! No, I love it! Daisuki!"
Thus, the apocalypse's music specialist channel, "Nymph Calyps," was born.
6
Epilogue.
No grand promo needed to gather Nymph Calyps listeners.
Just posting "New music broadcast up, listen if bored" on SG Net's fun-thirsty members sufficed.
-Anonymous: Turned freq from post—what is this??
-Anonymous: Sound quality insane;;
└[Three Thousand]MeteorIsTheLaw: What's up?
└Anonymous: Tuned radio channel promoted earlier—sound quality no joke, DJ voice good too
└[Three Thousand]MeteorIsTheLaw: Not anomaly?
└Anonymous: Maybe but safe now, you try too lol
With 12 anon accounts Sim A-ryeon controlled, manufacturing bait was child's play.
If DJ lacked skill, hype would've died quick, but like eager youngsters, Calypso seized her chance.
-[Three Thousand]MeteorIsTheLaw: ? Actually good?
A year later, Nymph Calyps' 7 PM daily broadcast became essential for awakeners and civilians alike.
-Hello. Fine evening, this is Nymph Calyps. First song today...
-Listeners wanting to send stories, ask your constellation. If they relay to me...
-Hello. Fine evening, this is Nymph Calyps. Weather's gotten chilly lately, huh?
Even as world crumbled, Nymph Calyps' 7 PM never missed.
Awakeners drafted to fronts against oceanic anomalies, civilians supporting rear—twilight radios on, eavesdropping songs and others' tales.
"Hm."
Of course, I, the Undertaker, too.
Once, I secretly rented whole venue where "Song Queen Cecilia" once performed. Cost a fortune, but whatever.
In stage center where she gripped mic, I placed a wooden chair.
Atop it, lone radio.
Zenith's K731. Vintage wood-finished.
-Hello. Fine evening, this is Nymph Calyps.
Empty audience.
Stage with just radio.
I sat at a table two rows back, waiting alone.
In a once-fan-packed place, quiet "live on stage" began.
-Now, request is...
Brief pause.
-...A song by singer Calypso. Drifter unknown who sang hopping Busan restaurants back then.
-Ahaha.
-...Some might know.
-As requested, I'll sing.
Rustling.
Beyond radio, classic guitar strings tinkled.
-Calyps. Ruins.
Soon, song flowed.
I sipped pre-brought coffee.
Nodding to the song of one now praised as ace DJ on SG Net and reality alike.
As expected, this singer's voice best.
-Actor. Conclusion.