Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Father and Son I
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Shin Noah
1.
Today, let's spin a tale about a certain father and son.
Here, "father and son" (父子) doesn't refer to some wealthy bourgeois, but literally a father and his son.
If I'm going to talk about these two people, then personally, I really hate it, but there's no helping it—I have to go back as far as the 4th round.
The me from this time was a walking mass of dark history. If you think about my endless regression life, this was exactly the chuunibyou phase.
Even now, after living through so many years that counting them has lost all meaning, just thinking about the time from the 1st to the 5th round makes me want to hit the panic button.
The silver lining—or misfortune, depending on how you look at it—is that I acquired [Perfect Memory Ability] in the 5th round. As I mentioned once before, anything older than the 5th round lingers in my consciousness like a hazy dream.
So, the past I'm about to describe from here on is all just reassembled or fabricated.
"Save me......"
"It hurts. It hurts so much......"
In those faint, shadowy memories, the first things that always come to mind are people's groans.
"Cough!" or "Cough" or "Cough......", the decibel levels varied, but the quieter the sound, the shorter their lifeline—that was the common thread.
Each time, I walked forward, the bells jingling softly, jingle-jingle. I stopped my steps and asked the people,
"Do you want to escape from hell?"
"Yes......?"
"Do you want to be at peace forever?"
You might wonder why I'm suddenly spouting lines like some cult preacher, but yes, those were my words.
Let me offer a brief excuse here.
First off, back then, I hardly ever used polite speech unless I had to. So, to be strictly accurate, it should be written as "Want to escape the pain?" "Want to be at peace forever?"
But if I wrote it that way, my fingers would curl up and generate a black hole on their own. Please forgive me.
The memories from the 4th round are vague and fuzzy to begin with. So, isn't this level of historical distortion acceptable? It's better than finger distortion, at least.
Second, I never had any intention of spreading a cult.
On the contrary, those very questions were fundamentally tied to the reason I earned the moniker "Undertaker."
"What bullshit is that? Get lost!"
"Isn't that the Undertaker? That......"
"Ptooey. Ugh, what bad luck!"
Most people were still clinging to life. They screamed that they wanted to die, but they still gripped tightly to their will to live. In those cases, I would simply say, "My apologies," and withdraw.
But there were always those who had abandoned all hope.
"Yes....... I don't want to hurt anymore......"
Those torn apart by monsters' teeth. The sick. Those who lost family. Those who realized all humans were beasts and were left with nothing but contempt for the world. Those who understood that no matter what happened next, the peace of the past would never return. Or all of the above.
These people agreed with my question.
Then I would ask again.
"My moniker is Undertaker."
"Yes. I know......"
"Then that makes this quick. I have the ability to put people to sleep in eternal dreams."
"......"
"If you agree, I can help you dream forever, repeating only the happiest moment of your life."
Time Seal.
This was my ability that I hadn't revealed even while spinning all these tales up to now.
I know the novel rule that a protagonist's unique ability should be introduced as soon as possible. But the reason I've stayed silent about it until now is that I only ever used [Time Seal] in the 1st through 6th rounds.
After that, I truly almost never used it.
Above all, I hated my own ability.
This was why I dismissed this episode as dark history.
"Okay, put me in that dream right now......"
"Before you agree, there are some things you need to know first."
I spoke calmly.
"Once you enter the dream through my ability, everyone else will forget all memories of you."
"Yes?"
"No one will remember you. Not your family, not your friends, not even the people who passed you by. While you're dreaming, no one in this world except me will be able to think of you."
"......"
"In exchange for tasting that happy moment, you'll be perfectly forgotten by everyone. How about it? Do you still want to live in that dream?"
I didn't bother explaining this to people, but this oblivion was stronger than you might think.
Because even if I regressed and started a new life, the [Time Seal] wouldn't break.
It became an exception to the regression, you could say. I don't know the principle, but the sealed person remained sealed forever—forgotten by the world forever.
They became a person who "never existed" from the very beginning.
"That's, too......"
Most people hesitated at this point.
No matter how agonizing life was, becoming completely erased from existence felt somehow eerie and ominous. They chose suicide instead.
"Oh well, doesn't matter. Doesn't matter at all."
But there were always those who had abandoned hope.
"Being erased from the world entirely actually puts my mind at ease. What business do I have in this shitty world? Please, just wipe me from existence."
The "father" in the father-son story we're talking about today was like that.
Former pro soccer player Kim Ju-cheol.
2
Has-been.
That was the word Kim Ju-cheol used to refer to himself.
"I used to be a starter in the first division, you know. Left fullback, no less—left fullback. My name alone was worth something back then."
He breathed not the oxygen needed to live in the present reality, but only the glory of the past.
After the world turned like this, hardly anyone didn't miss their old jobs, but Kim Ju-cheol was especially fixated on it.
"Young man. Wanna see my awesome mad movie?"
To the point where he downloaded his own highlight reel onto his smartphone and carried it around.
In this era where self-PR was essential, he couldn't have been more optimized.
In the 6-minute edited video, Kim Ju-cheol truly dominated the field. His red uniform fluttered like a flag. As a defender rather than an attacker, goals were rare, but the crowd's cheers for each of his plays echoed vividly through the phone speaker.
"I even got offers from Japan. In the Netherlands, they straight-up sent an agent to scout me. Regular folks might scoff at the Dutch league, but it's a seriously big deal, you know?"
He crossed the line between casual and polite speech as freely as dribbling a soccer ball.
"Ugh, damn. I should've just bolted overseas instead of staying loyal to the club that raised me for some romantic bullshit. I wasted my life on romance."
Because Kim Ju-cheol bragged about his mad movie to everyone, his smartphone battery drained quickly.
Unlike others, he didn't use his phone to contact the outside world. To him, the phone's sole purpose was as a mad movie storage device.
"How important fullbacks are in modern soccer......"
"Mister! Quit yapping and walk faster!"
"Aw, man, the young ones are cursing again. They remind me of my daughter."
Kim Ju-cheol grinned good-naturedly and got to his feet.
"Up we go. Make way. The has-been is heading out."
Despite his grand declaration, his body didn't move well.
Kim Ju-cheol's left leg dragged constantly.
In a world overrun by monsters, it was anything but kind to humanity. A limp made it even worse.
Even those who could move the fastest weren't guaranteed survival, so Kim Ju-cheol was always left in the cold.
The fact that he had once been a notable soccer player domestically meant nothing. Unless you were World Cup national team level, regular people rarely even knew soccer players' names.
"Anyway, past glory is worth jack shit."
Kim Ju-cheol chuckled.
Perhaps his constant self-promotion was an attempt to boost his own value, even a little.
But the survivor group's response was cold. If he were clearly elderly or infirm, maybe, but no one accommodated a seemingly muscular, healthy middle-aged man. Rations, night watch—Kim Ju-cheol suffered in every aspect.
"Well, that's just how the world is."
Kim Ju-cheol didn't take it personally. Not because he was exceptionally kind-hearted, but because he was used to being treated this way.
"I've got a son too. About your age, young man. Or maybe a bit younger?"
"You don't seem close to your son."
"Aw, don't even ask. It's been ten years since he ran off with his mom."
Kim Ju-cheol grinned.
"We used to get along great. Then some bastard wrecked my left leg in a game, and everything went to hell. Funny thing—turns out my knee joint was linked to our family harmony."
"......"
"What can I say, I'm the asshole. Total asshole. But cut me some slack, young man. A guy with overseas offers suddenly retires at 26. Huh? A 26-year-old punk suddenly hobbling through life. You think my head was on straight? My left foot was my meal ticket. My whole fortune."
Kim Ju-cheol's voice trailed off softly.
He was one of the first people summoned with me to the Busan Station concourse. Leaning against a bookstore shelf in the history-turned-maze of warped space, Kim Ju-cheol rambled on.
"I'm in rehab at the hospital, and the bastard who crippled me shows up to visit. Man, that's when I first learned crutches make great weapons. I beat him to a pulp. But his parents had connections in the soccer association. It got hushed up then, but later I realized my spot was gone. That's Korea's problem. The perpetrators always end up thriving, you see?"
"......"
"That punk couldn't even kick the ball well."
Kim Ju-cheol seemed brutally honest about everything, but there were things he avoided mentioning. Like how after leaving rehab, he drowned in booze and gambling.
How he practically lived in Macau or Gangwon-do casinos. How his much younger son had to be raised by his wife alone. How his wife died two years ago. How right before being summoned to Busan Station, he'd been lurking around a convenience store near a Gangwon casino. How he'd luckily bought two packs of cigarettes then, so now he had plenty of butts stuffed in his socks.
I was with him from the 1st to the 4th round, so I knew a lot about his personal history.
"Whew, the world's so stingy......"
From the 1st to the 4th round, Kim Ju-cheol never survived intact even once.
I don't remember exactly how he died each time.
But from what I recall, in the 1st round, Kim Ju-cheol tripped while running through the endless corridors of the maze-like Busan Station and got munched from the toes up by a monster.
In the 2nd, I died first, but with his condition, probably the same. 3rd round, likely bled out. Maybe he blocked a glass door with his body to let others escape and lost an arm to a monster.
Finally, the 4th round.
"Life's such bullshit sometimes......"
Kim Ju-cheol managed to escape Busan Station with me. But soon after, a dog-like monster chomped off his entire left leg.
He passed out instantly, but thanks to my immediate first aid and tourniquet, he regained consciousness. Panting heavily, he muttered as soon as he came to.
"I've dragged this shitty leg around my whole life. Now that it's gone, I feel lighter. So much lighter."
"......"
"Young man. There's a soccer stadium nearby, right? Sorry, but could we stop there for a bit?"
I carried Kim Ju-cheol on my back to what would be the final stop of this life.
A one-legged man's weight was surprisingly light. Carried on my back, he drifted in and out of consciousness.
"Huh......"
I carefully set Kim Ju-cheol down in the stadium stands.
Monsters had already rampaged through, half-destroying the place. Debris littered the field and seats.
"Why does it look so damn big? It used to be smaller. Smaller, I swear."
Kim Ju-cheol mumbled "So big, so big" for a while.
"Mr. Undertaker."
His face pale, he spoke. It was the first and last time he called someone much younger than him "sir."
"Thank you. Really, thank you. But that's enough now. No regrets......"
I understood everything this man in front of me was trying to say.
I took the silver bell from my pocket and tied it to my wrist. My own little ritual.
"Are you sure? As you know, if you take my ability, you'll be forgotten by everyone."
"Forgotten? Aw, doesn't matter. Doesn't matter at all. Being erased from the world puts my mind at ease. What business do I have in this shitty world? Please, just wipe me from existence."
Kim Ju-cheol smiled faintly.
"I'm tired now."
"......"
"Oh, right. When you go into that dream thing, will you realize you're dreaming? You know......"
"No, you won't."
I shook my head.
"The person just endlessly repeats that happy day forever, without realizing it's repeating."
"That's a relief then. If the memory kept going, huh? That'd be torture too, right? Even the happiest moment gets boring after repeats....... Good thing. So, I just close my eyes?"
"Yes."
"Thank you, sir. Truly."
In many ways, Kim Ju-cheol was an ordinary man.
There was no special reason for me to remember him among all the people I'd given last rites to.
And yet, I remembered Kim Ju-cheol for a long time. Because of the dying words he left behind.
"Kim Si-eun. Kim Si-eun. My son....... Born November 11th. My son's name is Si-eun."
Usually, people heading into eternal dreams asked me to remember them. But to the end, Kim Ju-cheol mumbled his son's name.
"My boy."
Jingle.
With the bell's sound, I activated the ability.
And so, Kim Ju-cheol said goodbye on my timeline.
It was only after a very long time that I met the inheritor of the words he left behind.