The Regressor Is Tired (2)
The Regressor Is Tired (2)
A month passed after clearing Floor 5.
A month might seem very long, but in the grand scheme of a life, it's not that much time.
Assuming a human lifespan of a hundred years, a month is about 0.08 percent of a person's entire life. No one would despair over wasting 0.08 percent of their life.
Is that an exaggeration? Fine, think about mountains and rivers. They say mountains and rivers change once in a decade. In a month, they've changed only 0.8 percent—still an absurdly tiny fraction.
『 Player Association Launched... First Association President: 'Mighty Michael' Michael Jeter. 』
『 Korean Government Awards Presidential Citation to Player Choi Ji-won... First Korean to Clear Floor 10. 』
Yet, in a period of upheaval like this, a month was enough time to turn human society upside down. From a player's standpoint, it was obvious since their own lives had changed, but even ordinary people who couldn't perceive any information about the 'Tower' could feel its influence on their skin.
『 Actor Lee Min-ho Reveals Awakening as Player... Trait Undisclosed. 』
『 A Grandfather in His Sixties... Ran 100 Meters in 10 Seconds! How?! 』
What felt most palpable to ordinary people was the very existence of players. The sight of a delicate woman lifting a car with ease or conjuring flames in midair no longer turned heads. Didn't the U.S. Vice President create a block of ice on live television in the first place?
YouTube's algorithm was already dominated by player-related videos, and players appearing on broadcast TV had become routine. That's how people came to accept that 'humanity with awakened superpowers had emerged.'
『 Player Crimes Rampant... Korean Government Criticized for 'Belated Response.' 』
『 71 Dead in Random Subway Attack... Perpetrator 'Also a Player' 』
『 Why You Should Be Wary of Players Who Have No Physical Vulnerabilities 』
Of course, that didn't make players any more endearing. While the government was working to heroize some players, one problem the Tower brought was precisely the criminal acts committed by players. It was because even the mentally ill were handed power.
A player granted stats and traits could kill an ordinary person more easily than twisting a child's wrist. And since they didn't carry visible weapons—their bodies themselves were lethal weapons—assassinations erupted worldwide. Preemptive countermeasures were impossible.
『 Korean Government Declares 'No Compromise.' Unusually Authorizes Use of Live Ammo... 』
『 Is Japan's 'Concrete Prison' Effective? (Exclusive Column) 』
Naturally, the leaders of each nation weren't fools, so they took action. First, players causing trouble were immediately shot dead. No matter how skilled a player might be, they were still human—and a bullet still killed them. (Or perhaps being dead was the better outcome.)
What about players who swiftly passed through a portal and hid on Floor 1? By exploiting the fact that the portal back to reality spawns at the location where they entered, traps were set at the portal spot or it was simply filled in with concrete. When the hiding spot was in the middle of a city, the financial loss was enormous... but what could you do? It was better than people dying.
『 Granting Authority to the American Association's Vigilante Corps Yields Astonishing Results... Could It Be Adopted in Korea? 』
Also, the newly launched Player Association took the lead in maintaining public order by organizing its own vigilante corps. Whatever might happen later, the Player Association was playing a somewhat positive role.
Why am I suddenly bringing up the Association?
[Mighty Coin.]
[+19,832.41%]
[Balance for Kim Jun-ho: 1,983,241,000 won]
"...Wow."
Because thanks to the Player Association President Michael Jeter, the 10 million won I had parked in Mighty Coin had become 2 billion won.
2 billion won. I'd never held that kind of money in my life. The things you could do with 2 billion won were endless. I could order 100,000 chickens or buy ten flashy sports cars. I could enjoy almost every pleasure human society offers.
There are very few things you can't do with a fortune like that. Hmm... it's a little short for buying a house in Seoul, and far too short for buying a mid-grade potion.
Speaking of potions, mid-grade potions these days cost more than a house. Potions that could heal most external wounds—well, all kinds of ailments—had shown humanity the Tower's potential.
Research institutes around the world hounded the rich all day to study the principles of potions, and the rich, too, wanted at least one bottle of this mysterious liquid in their homes. Naturally, potion prices skyrocketed, and ordinary people couldn't even glimpse a potion.
For the record, Choi Ji-won and I were overflowing with potions. Choi Ji-won was too strong, and in my case, I regress whenever I get injured. But what good did piles of expensive potions do? I couldn't even heal a cold I'd caught from the yeti.
Yes.
"...How's your condition?"
"Hard to say..."
After two weeks of rest, my condition had definitely improved. The tickle in my throat had lessened, and the faint feverish feeling was gone.
But improved didn't mean fully cured. Somewhere in my body, the cold still stubbornly lingered.
"Could this not be a cold...?"
Generally, a cold doesn't last longer than a week. If you eat well and rest, the period shortens even more. Can you even call this a cold when it's lasted over two weeks? Maybe it's an unknown disease brought over from the otherworld...!
"If that were the case, I'd be way too fine..."
"That's true..."
Of course, that possibility didn't exist. Choi Ji-won, who'd been in the same space with me the entire time, was still perfectly fine. If there was a problem, it was probably on my end.
"Hmm..."
Letting this drag on wasn't an option. I needed to find a way to heal my body, or I could just carry this cold with me into Floor 11 as a last resort.
My physical condition was decent for still having a cold. It wasn't optimal, but it wasn't the worst. If I had to put it in numbers, about ninety percent of full strength. Just subtly annoying.
And if I really did regress because of the cold, I still had a last resort: a low-grade elixir. As long as I didn't regress before even drinking the elixir right after entering the Tower, I didn't have to worry about being trapped in a prison of time.
"..."
Even so, I should try everything I could first. I still had one more possibility.
"Ji-won."
My girlfriend was a celebrity whose face came up when you searched her name on Google. Having appeared on broadcast news, her recognition in Korea was sky-high, and even in foreign communities she was frequently mentioned under the name 'Choi Ji-won,' the one who changed Floor 2.
"Let's have you contact the Player Association."
If the famous Choi Ji-won asked the Player Association directly? From the Association's standpoint—especially as they were busy accumulating influence—they would never miss a chance to put Choi Ji-won in their debt.
"...What should I say?"
"Simple. I'll tell you right now."
The plan was straightforward. If potions didn't work, I'd bring in a healer. And have them cure me.
Would just any healer do? No. The only, and most outstanding, healer I'd ever seen was...
"Yes, hello. This is Choi Ji-won. Yes, that Choi Ji-won. You're the Player Association? I'm trying to locate someone... and this person is American."
William Smith. The American priest I'd met on Floor 4. He had performed the miracle of healing a severely injured person on the spot. With his incredible healing ability, couldn't he sweep away this lingering cold of mine? It was a gamble worth taking.
"Yes, yes. His name is William Smith. Caucasian, dull blond hair, a middle-aged man with wrinkles... He should be registered with the American Player Association... I'd like to get his contact information... Oh, you know him?"
I had 2 billion won, so I could buy him a first-class plane ticket. And the one making the request was Choi Ji-won, Korea's top player who had received a Presidential Citation. If necessary, I could mention that I'd saved people on Floor 4. So I naturally expected a positive reply.
"...Ah, yes. Ah... yes. I see. Yes. Yeees..."
Choi Ji-won, continuing the call with the Association, shook her head and set the phone down.
"They said the Association hasn't been able to contact him from the start."
"Why?"
"Well..."
It wasn't that William Smith had held a grudge over what happened on Floor 4 and refused to heal me. In my memory, William Smith was a warm, kindly American with a conscience.
The reason was simple.
"That person... they said he's ridiculously busy right now?"
"?"
"Because he's treating patients flooding in from all over the U.S..."
It was because William Smith was so busy right now that he didn't have a moment to spare.
"...?"
All over the U.S.? Treating? Suddenly?
Wondering what that meant, I turned on my phone and accessed an American online community. Then, just searching for 'William' brought up a flood of posts.
-A god lives in California. He's saving the sick.
-I'm thankful to be alive in the same era as William Smith...
-I hate myself for ever doubting his abilities. The name of this era is 'William Smith.'
-In the end, even Nightingale was just an outstanding nurse.
"????"
This wasn't something I remembered. I was certain. Back on Floor 1, I had never seen posts like these. If there had been this much fuss, I would definitely have known.
Which meant.
"...Was it me?"
The future of the gentle-faced healer William Smith had changed because of me.