Chapter 58
Chapter 58
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: Puppeteer I
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Shin Noah
1
This episode's genre is a somewhat bizarre mystery.
2
I occasionally use the term "route."
This is because I often liken my journey to prevent the world's destruction to mountain climbing.
Himalayan mountaineers call the paths they take "routes." Likewise, I've borrowed their terminology to refer to my own strategies as routes.
The regressor's axiom.
"How exactly can I stop the destruction?"
How can I conquer the summit of that "Everest of time," a peak no human has ever set foot on?
Throughout my regression life spanning up to the 1183rd round, there were truly countless routes.
For example, from the 35th to the 107th rounds, the climbing path I tried to pioneer was the "civilization reconstruction route" or "revival route." As a sort of preparation for scaling this path, my climbing team's companions were as follows:
1) The existence of the "Saintess," who can observe all awakeners within range and upholds extremely high moral standards.
2) SG Net, a community where all awakeners can participate anytime, anywhere, regardless of their fragmented activity ranges. In other words, the existence of "Seo-gyu," who possesses ubiquitous capabilities.
3) Someone who minimally connects major city strongholds with roads, maintains and manages the road network, and remains uncorrupted by politics. In short, the existence of National Highway Management Corps Leader "No Do-ha."
4) Someone who can mediate and lead all of the above, always utterly diligent—the white knight of this era, namely me, the Undertaker.
If you've followed my tales so far, you'll agree that my preparations proceeded steadily and meticulously.
Even after losing Old Man Show, the supreme swordsman and ultimate joker, I pride myself on having done my utmost.
However, the "revival route" collapsed in an instant.
-Please remember, Undertaker.
-An awakener's power is not purely a blessing. It's a double-edged sword.
Her ringing in my ears, the Saintess.
Her code name after corruption: Executioner.
Her appearance completely derailed every route I had envisioned up to that point—no exaggeration.
-Once awakeners go beyond getting used to their powers and start getting devoured by them, they'll become something as grotesque as me.
-20 years. You must restore the world to its original form before 15 years pass, at the latest. Please remember, Undertaker.
That's right.
Awakeners were never the polar opposite of grotesqueries. They were the same kind. If grotesqueries were born from the void, awakeners were nurturing grotesqueries inside their own heads—and hearts.
Dang Seo-rin too. No Do-ha too. Cheon Yo-hwa too. The Sword Marquis too.
The powers they possessed, miracles no ordinary human could achieve... were not just blessings but curses as well.
Now, some readers might start to grasp why I had to roll through up to the 1183rd round.
Yeah. You need awakeners to catch grotesqueries, but the stronger they get, the more they transform into special-class grotesqueries. Just like the world itself.
"By any chance... do you like bleak stories too? Actually, I love them a lot. Bleakness."
"Here's some bleak stew I made—would you like just one spoonful...?"
It's like shyly asking someone to try your taste in bleakness, forcing it on them.
You might think, what kind of lunatic does that? Unfortunately, the world's unfairness doesn't end there.
But let's set aside the regressor's complaints for now.
Today, I thought I'd briefly mention the very first route I ever devised.
Namely, the "A Route."
The first route of my regression life, formally known as the "academy route."
3
Unlike other routes, the "A Route" was the only one Old Man Show and I collaborated on.
In other words, it was before that old geezer took his damn vacation (just wait till he comes back).
"Hey, pickler."
Old Man Show said while lifting a dumbbell.
If you asked me why he suddenly picked up a dumbbell, I'd be at a loss. Because Old Man Show was pretty much always pumping iron, 24/7.
For reference, "pickler" was another way of saying Undertaker, which Old Man Show sometimes called me. Not out of respect for my epithet, but simply because the pronunciation of "pickler" slyly carried the nuance of "damn pickler." Damn old coot.
"What?"
"Heard the news?"
"What news?"
"In Fukuoka... Wait, you little punk, what's with that mouth? Huh? Talking back all snippy when an adult asks a question."
The timing was precisely the 18th round.
At this point, Old Man Show's mentality was still intact. Of course, intact or not, he was just another German geezer added to the world.
Here's a surprising fact: that old coot graduated from art school.
Doesn't that feel off somehow?
Anyone with historical knowledge can guess what sentence emerges when "Germany" as the subject combines with "art school" as the predicate.
"Did you regress leaving your brain cells behind last time...? Anyway, so what's up with Fukuoka?"
"Oh, right. Apparently, a pretty intriguing awakener showed up in Fukuoka. Epithet's Puppeteer or something."
"Puppeteer? What kind of power?"
"Who knows. Awakeners usually keep their abilities under wraps. All I heard from the council is they made overtures several times."
Old Man Show tapped the tip of his nose. Annoying.
"But I have a feeling. A feeling. The Puppeteer's definitely exceptional."
"Oh god, that feeling of yours."
"What? My feelings are usually spot on."
In subculture works, there's this thing called "academy drift."
It refers to when a perfectly fine story that's going great suddenly veers off into the protagonist enrolling in an academy, derailing into irrelevant tangents. It has a high chance of tanking the story's quality along with it, like a water ghost dragging it down.
But Old Man Show and I had very rational reasons for establishing and running an academy.
"Let's recruit him."
It was to gather promising talents.
After all, it was nearly impossible to prevent the world's destruction with just Old Man Show and me.
So, we needed to assemble the strongest possible party to at least flip off our world, which kept boiling bleak stew nonstop.
But even when recruiting talent, there's a difference in appeal.
-Join our guild and be our errand boy?
-Enroll in our academy and take classes from experts?
The two pitches carried quite a gap in tone.
Especially for Asians. Including Koreans, most Asians had an innate perverted lust that got them excited at words like "education," "entrance exams," and "prestige."
A scholar delights in learning and never tires of it. Ambition to succeed in a guild is mere lust for power, but aspiring to enter an academy and learn well is self-cultivation, filial piety to parents, and loyalty to the nation, right?
There was no reason not to exploit such a fine culture.
Old Man Show hung the title "academy principal" instead of the stiff "guild master." I took on the vice-principal role.
And we added seasoning.
-A German-run academy!
-Proven in the Ten Tribes subjugation battle. Guaranteed by the Sword Saint and the Undertaker.
The slogan of a pure-blooded German foreigner running a school was a brainwashing crit hit limited to Asians.
For reference, our educational institution was named Freiheit Academy—Freedom Academy in German.
If actual Germans saw it, they'd probably twitch at this "freedom" institution oddly emphasizing "pure bloodline." The most famous building they built even has "Work sets you free" inscribed at the entrance.
Fortunately, Old Man Show was an SPD supporter. People sent fervent trust to our foreign-run awakener specialist academy without reservation.
Creating an institution written as "guild" but read as "academy" to cherry-pick promising awakeners from every country.
That was the true nature of the "A Route."
"Well, we should recruit real top talent. So, you're heading to Fukuoka to snag that Puppeteer kid? Do ships even run these days?"
"Heh, where there's a will, there's a way. If a gentleman intends to go, how could he fail to secure even one ship?"
"Even if you safely cross the Korea Strait, the Japanese won't hand over their awakener willingly. They're pretty desperate too."
"No worries. He's Korean, not Japanese."
"Pardon?"
"He was originally from Busan but evacuated quickly when the gates opened."
"Wait, even evacuating, why of all places...? Monsters aren't North Korean troops. It's hell on both sides."
"Who knew back then? It's only year three, kiddo."
"Oh."
I took a moment of silence.
"...But Fukuoka—could he be tangled up with the provisional government folks? Getting involved with those guys would be a headache."
"No idea. You think I'm omniscient?"
"Hmm. So when are you going, old timer?"
"Yeah. When are you planning to go?"
"......?"
"......?"
Our eyes met.
"......?"
"......?"
Communication, failed.
We silently raised our swords. We deeply respected the traditional method humanity resorted to since ancient times when communication failed.
Five minutes passed.
"Have a safe trip, pickler."
"Son of a... "
"Trying to beat a Swordmaster with that pathetic swordplay? Oh, and grab some instant ramen on the way back if you see any. Cup ramen. Preferably tonkotsu. Fukuoka's famous for that, right? Gotta grease up my gut too."
Unfair, but what could I do? Back then, I was still inferior to Old Man Show.
I dragged my bruised body out of the principal's office dejectedly.
[The Saintess of National Salvation cheers you on.]
I gave a wry smile.
'As expected, only the constellations are on my side.'
Of course, in the 18th round, I had no idea constellations were awakeners. My relationship with the Saintess was, in professional terms, parasocial—a pseudo-social bond.
"Only you recognize me, Constellation. I'm off to Japan for a short business trip, so please keep an eye on that old geezer while I'm gone."
[The Saintess of National Salvation cheers you on, saying not to worry.]
"Constellation...!"
As a closest example, it's like a VTuber and a fan overly immersed in them.
Why? Well, constellation stuff originated from internet streaming platforms anyway. This counts as a healthy hobby, right?
Hmm.
...Those were immature times in many ways.
4
Even if it was black history in my memory, to others, the awakener "Undertaker" was undoubtedly a figure of note.
Old Man Show. Dang Seo-rin. Undertaker.
No matter what anyone said, we three were the protagonists of the Ten Tribes subjugation.
And we were the world's first to subjugate a boss-class monster purely through private initiative, not government-led.
The Korean Peninsula traditionally buffs militias over regular armies, so it wasn't strange.
Of course, purely by popularity ranking regardless of borders:
Dang Seo-rin > Old Man Show ≧ Undertaker
Old Man Show and my fame seesawed, but Dang Seo-rin always held the unshakable top spot.
She was the alliance leader of the Korean Peninsula Guild Alliance (name varies slightly by round). Above all, her character crushed Old Man Show and me.
A witch singing on the battlefield? Isn't that cheating? How do two sword wielders beat that?
In crude terms, anyone seeing Dang Seo-rin belt out level-4 a cappella on the battlefield couldn't help but think, "We're screwed." Especially when her singing showered them with side-effect-free buff doping.
Ah, the awakeners of the Korean Peninsula had already become unable to join boss subjugations without Dang Seo-rin's song...
Anyway.
My position on the Peninsula was second-in-command, occasionally dropping to third when Old Man Show unleashed historic potential.
"Welcome to Japan sincerely! Undertaker!"
Even that status was enough to attract all sorts of flies.
"Waaaaah!"
"Welcome to Busan!"
"Undertaker! Undertaker! Undertaker!"
As soon as I disembarked at the port, nearly three hundred people cheered in unison. For flies, it was an army.
They even flapped banners instead of wings. The banners bore these inscriptions:
[★Pride of Korea, Awakener Undertaker★]
[Welcome to Busan!]
[From the Members of the Republic of Korea's 2nd Provisional Government]
Ah.
My neck cramped.
'Busan my ass, you lunatics...'
Let me explain.
Obviously, I boarded a ship from Busan to Fukuoka, Japan. I didn't go on a Korea Strait sightseeing tour and loop back to Busan.
What had gone mad wasn't my destination but their minds.
Fukuoka (福岡).
Reading the hanja, it's "fortunate hill." Here, the "hill" (岡) literally means "ridge hill," referring to mountains or hills.
So, the flies before me had agreed to call Fukuoka "Busan." Despite the perfectly fine city name.
Just like nailing the American continents' natives as "Indians" from now on.
Even more absurd: Japan already had Toyama (富山), a city that could be transliterated as Busan.
In short, these people were triple-douchebagging Busan, Fukuoka, and Toyama.
Why?
"Heh heh heh. Welcome, Undertaker sir!"
The answer lay entirely with the middle-aged man at the forefront of the welcoming crowd.
Mayor Jeong.
Real name: Jeong Sang-guk.
Not a current mayor, though. In the Korean Peninsula, civil servant was a job long deleted alongside elementary, middle, high school, and college students.
Jeong Sang-guk was the "former" "Busan" mayor.
He also headed the Republic of Korea's 2nd Provisional Government.
When a massive void hit south of the Han River, sending the Blue House and National Assembly on a harmonious coalition to heaven, Sejong and Busan were the only strongholds that could somewhat contain the chaos.
Sejong's bureaucrats at least tried controlling the national military (and they too harmoniously went on a gourmet tour inside the Ten Tribes' bellies).
Meanwhile, Busan Mayor Jeong Sang-guk opted for a more traditional approach.
-Fellow citizens, what people are we?
-Uh... delivery people?
-No. Terran people.
Jeong Sang-guk picked up his supporters and organization wholesale and relocated the command center.
The drip fit the generation so well that citizens couldn't help but be impressed.
Kim Il-sung, founder of the Daedong River School, only knew shrinking-earth techniques solo, but Jeong Sang-guk pulled off a group teleport. Proof that the orthodox Three Hans martial arts lived in the Nakdong River School. Their footwork was different.
Now, Koreans acknowledged Busan Mayor Jeong Sang-guk's name value on par with Admiral Won Gyun of the Three Provinces Naval Command or Prime Minister Lee Wan-yong of the Korean Empire.
Considering Koreans' stinginess in evaluating politicians, it was no small feat.
As the saying goes, all politicians are hardcore idealists.
They believe they can borrow endlessly from concepts even if short on real legitimacy. Jeong Sang-guk was the same.
The exile group soon became an "exile government," which suddenly morphed into the "Republic of Korea 2nd Provisional Government." Jeong Sang-guk's business cards got reprinted each time, now reading "Prime Minister of the Republic of Korea 2nd Provisional Government."
And on his inauguration as prime minister, Fukuoka was renamed Busan. Thanks to that, as head of the Fukuoka Korean Association, Jeong Sang-guk snagged the title "Busan City Representative" too.
In short, a total shitshow.
And now, I'd been invited to its stage.
A fallen politician cozying up to a war hero was universal grammar worldwide.
"I've admired you greatly for a long time, Mr. Jang!"
Jeong Sang-guk, who claimed to have hit 2150 ladder points in StarCraft as a Terran user back in the day, flashed a beaming smile and hugged me.
Following the 2nd Provisional Government's prime minister, the foreign, finance, justice, and interior ministers poured out endless handshake requests. The hugs were excessively mechanical.
I flashed a mechanical smile too. And inwardly assigned the provisional cabinet members trendy MZ nicknames in order: fucker, damn, shit, etc.
'That damn old coot. This is why I didn't want to come to Fukuoka on business.'
Keh- keh- keh-
From afar came what sounded like Old Man Show's laughter and the hallucination "Yeah, your sword skills suck." Damn it.