Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Prophet II
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Shin Noah
2
There was a slight problem on the journey following Honey Dokseo.
No, actually, it was far from slight. The most critical problem imaginable had erupted.
It wasn’t a problem caused by me.
[O Dokseo: Great! Tutorial cleared!]
And it wasn’t Honey Dokseo’s problem either.
Truthfully, for a beginner, O Dokseo’s skills were pretty decent. Sure, I’d provided some minor assistance (though, of course, I’m just being modest—in reality, it was anything but minor), but she’d broken through the Busan Station Gate in a mere 48 hours.
For reference, the first time I cleared Busan Station was in the 3rd round.
In other words, what? She lived and died in Busan during her 1st and 2nd rounds. She could truly be called a man overflowing with hometown pride, more than any native Busanite. If my own hometown hadn’t been Seoul, I’d have proudly worn the certified Busan man badge long ago.
Even my 3rd-round clear had taken a full week. O Dokseo, who’d shaved it down to 48 hours, absolutely had top-tier talent.
[O Dokseo: Even with the protagonist’s help, done in two days? O Dokseo, what are you? Fashion, hip-hop, monster-slaying—what can’t you do? I’m starting to scare myself....]
Her youthful self-admiration was cute enough to let slide.
At this point, though, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell the Busan Station waiting room really was.
It wasn’t just overflowing with talent—it was flooding the place.
‘A mystery with world-ending potential like Go Yo-ri, an unheard-of community manager like Seo-gyu, the aggro vacuum Sim A-ryeon, the MacGuffin Uehara Shino, infinite regressor me, Undertaker. And now O Dokseo too?’
Terrifying.
A genuine goldmine for talent poaching.
Liu Bang lounging as an unemployed bum, Xiao He shuffling civil servant paperwork, Fan Kuai wrestling boars—the fabled lineup of Chu-Han wasn’t even enviable. Well... let’s drop that.
Anyway, Honey Dokseo’s adventure itself had gone smoothly.
But if it wasn’t my problem or hers, that meant a third-party outsider had crashed this cheerful party.
“……?”
The unidentified entity trotted along, occasionally glancing back at me. Each time, she’d tilt her head and flash a bright, pretty smile.
I nearly fell for it. If I hadn’t already learned she wore the exact same smile while ending the world, I might’ve gone full manly confession on the spot.
This entity’s name was Go Yo-ri.
‘This is gonna drive me nuts.’
The wielder of crimson tentacles.
If sorted by genre tags: #brainwashing #perception alteration #favorability manipulation #Cthulhu Mythos and so on—an ultra-high-risk individual.
That’s right. Somehow, Go Yo-ri had ended up joining Honey Dokseo’s party. We were all original members who’d started in the Busan Station waiting room, so it had always been a possibility.
A single early-game party containing entities to make my life a blast and others to utterly ruin it—does that even make sense, Bingoo? Truly, the Busan Station waiting room. One hell of a starting point.
Right then, pink hair swayed right in my face.
“Undertaker... was it?”
My heart jolted.
For the record, Go Yo-ri was actively deploying [Perception Manipulation], [Favorability Manipulation], and [Impression Brainwashing] right now. All sorts of people swarmed her, spewing flattery and bootlicking.
Yet she’d brushed off those self-serving lackeys and slinked over to me.
Goosebumps erupted.
“…What?”
One small mercy: I was role-playing ‘the world’s coolest regressor’ at the time.
Facial expression control. Facial expression control.
I desperately dredged up negative emotions—the despair of the world’s end, the betrayal when Old Man Show bailed solo, the grief of first losing Dang Seo-rin... whatever worked.
My face twisted into convincingly prickly mode. Prickliness level 5.
“Ah. No, nothing big.”
Apparently not prickly enough for Go Yo-ri.
“Just curious what kind of guy Undertaker is. You stayed so calm when people died in the waiting room or monsters showed up.”
Had she been watching me?
If hearts had sweat pores, cold sweat would’ve poured. Like the wuxia adage to beware old folks and kids, my life came with a permanent warning label: beware the pink hair.
I cranked up the prickliness. Level 6.
“Not interested in you. So drop any interest in me.”
“You like Silenti? My favorite drink too.”
“…….”
Devious.
The power of [Perception Manipulation]?
Boosting my favorability as naturally as breathing.
But I’m Undertaker—not that easy. Sure, my heart fluttered a tad, but I chalked it up to heart attack warning signs. Meaning, leave it alone and I’d drop dead.
No choice. Prickliness level 7!
“Annoying. Scram.”
“Hmm.”
Hmm? Hmmmmm?
She just eye-smiled, right?
“You know, you haven’t looked my way once while talking to me?”
“Shut it. Don’t know what ‘scram’ means? Or ignoring me? First makes you ignorant, second arrogant.”
“Doctor’s a fun guy.”
“…….”
“Let’s get along from here. Name’s Go Yo-ri. Call me Yo-ri.”
With that, Go Yo-ri walked ahead. Her shadow hummed a tune, hands clasped behind her back.
As expected, she’d taken an interest in me. Dead opposite of my goal.
‘...Next time Go Yo-ri shows up, ditch the prickly act. Go full booze-and-gambling degenerate instead.’
Minor spoiler: strategy switch didn’t help.
‘Drowning sorrows in drink, losing yourself in bets—you get romance, cool guy!’ came the insane reply.
Way to handle Go Yo-ri: one. Stay out of her line of sight from the jump.
Someone might wonder why an infinite regressor fears her so.
But regressors’ true terror isn’t death. Ignorance.
Consider: S-rank perception manipulator. Apex mental virus.
Approach her, gain “knowledge”—can you trust it? What if it’s pre-tainted by brainwashing?
If she uncovers I’m a regressor—what then?
Like:
-Then lemme ask.
-When’d you assume I wasn’t brainwashing you...?
-Uhuhu. Doctor’s just hypnotized into “regressing”—you’re in my palm.
-From now, I’ll rule the heavens.
Then what?
Strongest mental defender I know: Saintess. Even she fell to Go Yo-ri. Until I snag a perception-proof shield, a mental firewall—steer clear.
But I wasn’t the only one clueless about her.
[O Dokseo: Hmm. Who’s she? Pink hair?]
O Dokseo snuck a peek. Thought it covert, but my senses nabbed it.
[O Dokseo: Such a character in past round views? Too flashy hair for an extra. But good vibes. Older sis vibe over me. How to befriend?]
―――O Dokseo didn’t know Go Yo-ri existed either.
3
This hid a major hint.
From tailing and observing O Dokseo till now, she’d clearly read “some novel.”
Shockingly, the protagonist was me: Undertaker.
Debatable if “novel.” More my documentary or biography. No other way she knew so much.
But.
‘She only knows ancient history.’
Update speed? Glacially slow.
Exhibit A:
[O Dokseo: Okay, Haeundae elixir snagged! Whoa. Elixir right after Busan Station clear? Super fast progress, right? Got talent maybe.]
[O Dokseo: This’ll let me beat that nightmare final boss... Ten Tribes.]
Ten Tribes wasn’t final boss.
Couldn’t even call it mid-boss. Ten Tribes playing lonely gourmet on Korea’s food tour? Up to round 20, generously. After that, it became the meal.
[O Dokseo: Now must link with Dang Seo-rin somehow. Among asshole guild leaders, no ally as solid. ‘Per setting,’ nail Song Enchantment and she’s top DPS.]
Dang Seo-rin wasn’t top DPS.
Early game, maybe looks it. True power shines as dedicated supporter.
As Old Man Show and I showed up, rounds advanced and we powered up, she stepped back from frontline to back us without hesitation.
I.e.
[O Dokseo: Protagonist needs to hold Ten Tribes’ assault... Solo impossible. Tsk. Guess I fight alongside?]
Honey Dokseo didn’t know Old Man Show existed.
Conclusion: obvious.
‘The “novel” O Dokseo read covers my life up to [4th round] at best.’
Unfinished autobiography.
Half-written novel. Unreleased serial. Author’s slow-ass update.
One damn unique power.
Name it? [Serial Nudging] fits.
Anyway, assuming her source is ‘my life summary thru 4th round,’ everything clicks.
Why she treats me like a psycho? Makes sense.
‘Yeah, pre-Old Man Show era, I was prickly often.’
Not actual psycho like she thinks, of course.
Just preemptively split heads from bodies of troublemakers, threatened to wipe everyone if pissed, raged if not max-gaining events... standard webnovel regressor personality?
[O Dokseo: Whoa, face goes murder-mode at Dang Seo-rin join mention. Psycho bastard—once he ‘approves’ someone, they’re human; trash like me? Subhuman. So frustrating.]
Yeah.
Time for a talk.
I’d quietly watched O Dokseo ~4 months. Verdict: her character trustworthy enough.
“O Dokseo.”
“Huh? What sudden? You initiating? Unexpected.”
“Wanna chat. Quiet spot, just us if possible.”
Caught her when party stepped away briefly. Double-, triple-checked Go Yo-ri gone—safe.
[O Dokseo: Eeeeek! Shit, gonna off me rat-and-bird style!]
Didn’t feel safe to O Dokseo, apparently.
“Sure? Fine. Party leader duty: hear out members.”
Dunno ‘bout that, but her poker face was pro. Inner meltdown, outer chill—bubblegum chomping casual.
We ducked into a local cafe with a [Closed temporarily until Aug 20—unavoidable circumstances] sign. Today: Oct 25.
Inside: spotless. Sat gingerly, picturing owner who’d sorted stock but not soul.
“Alright... what’s up?”
O Dokseo eyed me: casual face, steely gaze, terrified innards.
I flicked off [Mind Reading] briefly. Didn’t fit raw human talk.
“First: don’t freak too hard.”
“Hah? What’re you dropping?”
“Straight to it. O Dokseo. I know you read the ‘original world novel’ you believe in.”
“…….”
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
Wall clock—battery fine—second hand whirring. No cuckoo inside, sadly.
O Dokseo’s jaw dropped.
“Eh?”
“P.S.: mimicking your ‘expected’ speech on purpose. If cool, reverting to natural. This sucks, actually.”
“…Hold up, holdholdhold. HOOOLD!”
O Dokseo near-screamed.
“Novel? What novel? Zero clue what you mean!”
“Duh, your self-proclaimed Omniscient Regressor POV. You don’t know, but I’ve got [Mind Reading]. Turns target’s surface thoughts to audible words for me.”
“Hah? No way, original has no such— Ah.”
O Dokseo blinked.
“…That leading question just now?”
“Nope. Real deal. Know you peg me half-psycho.”
“I-I never!”
Voice shaky, but she doggedly pled innocent. Politician-level gall peeking through.
10 minutes later.
We hashed out mutual misunderstandings—well, her one-sided ones. Convo flowed; her faces ran the gamut.
She muttered, deflated.
“No.... Total scam.”
“Scam?”
“Normal novels: regressors can’t sniff protagonist secrets... Wait, protagonist’s me here. Anyway—what? Busted from Busan summon? Breaks novel rules!”
“Sorry, world ain’t a novel.”
“Was, till minutes ago!”
O Dokseo slammed the table.
“And that speech! Where’s ‘kill allies if they piss me off’ Undertaker?”
“Nah, too ancient from my view. Imagine hearing ‘you were sweet at 5’ at 50. Relatable?”
“Huh? That minor?”
“That minor.”
“Your view: what round now?”
“555th.”
“Five hundred fifty-fiiive?”
O Dokseo cuckoo-shrieked like the clock.
“What?! That number! Not 55th—555th? Ten Tribes too strong for 555 rounds unkilled? Gross negligence!”
“Nah, Ten Tribes ain’t final. Actually weakest.”
O Dokseo blanched.
“…Ten Tribes who fried Three Thousand Guild Leader witch Dang Seo-rin like rotisserie—weakest?”
“Now I skewer-grill ‘em.”
“BS? ...Wait. Undertaker. How old are you really?”
Uh.
Bit defensive:
“Kiddo. Age irrelevant to regressors.”
“No no NO. Super relevant. Ballpark 10 years/round... 5550?”
“…….”
Silence invoked.
Not wordless—words’d tank my position worse. Like admitting averages exceed 10/round.
Reading my face, O Dokseo recoiled.
“What! Creepy old geezer!”
“…….”
“No way. Cool protag’s actually geezer!”
Thus, her pet name for me locked: ‘geezer.’
Mood soured a tad.
Brat.
Age like me sometime, punk.