Chapter 17

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Internationalist III

The heart is often likened to fire, burning with passion. But in my case, 'water' was more often a suitable metaphor. Ever since the 89th cycle was severed by the red flash caused by Go Yuri, my inner well had dried up. This is commonly referred to as burnout—a slump invariably faced by every regressor at some point.

"Annihilation, huh..."

"If Samcheon is gone, doesn't that leave only Baekhwa as the top guild in Korea?"

"No, those body stackers are a bit... Well, it's even questionable whether they are a guild."

"After all, the void suppression failed. I looked up at the night sky yesterday, and it was chilling."

Upon collecting and cremating Dang Seo-rin's remains and scattering them at the beach, I returned to find Awakeners whispering under the parasols outside the convenience store. For some reason, their murmuring sounded to me like the trickling of water.

The sound of water led to one object.

This coffee shop has great coffee.

—Samcheon, Dang Seo-rin

A wine-colored thousand-won bill.

I transferred the bill signed by the Samcheon guild leader into an acrylic case and displayed it at the convenience store counter, where the cigarettes were usually displayed. Our underground warehouse had recently started bottoming out on its supplies. Alcohol and cigarettes were the first resources to become scarce, so there was plenty of space to display the bill.

Naturally, customers could view the exhibit each time they passed the counter.

One day, the Mount Hwa old man pointed out, "Sir, what in the world is that ominous item? I can feel an unusual energy from it."

"Oh, that? It’s a signature left by the Samcheon guild leader before she went off to strike down a meteor shower."

"Hmm..."

The old man grunted and left the convenience store.

The next day, he placed a ten-thousand-won bill on the counter to buy his usual bottle of green makgeolli.

"Sir, this is an orchid I drew myself."

"Orchid? What about an orchid?"

"Look closely at the drawing."

I did.

Beyond King Sejong's sturdy shoulders, an actual orchid was depicted.

"...?"

Frankly, the drawing was terrible. If Heungseon Daewongun had seen it, he might have mistaken it for pineapple leaves.

However, the old man had put some effort into it, as a tiny signature that read ‘Sword Marquess of Yuldoguk’ was squeezed into a corner of a cabbage leaf. Sword Marquess seemed quite proud of his work, hmph-ing out of his nose. The only feature of his worthy of commendation was his fluttering mustache.

"Please, hang it in your store like a banner."

"......"

Well, it didn't really matter.

I displayed Sword Marquess's bill alongside the other without much thought, but that, apparently, set a precedent.

Visitors to my convenience store began indiscriminately offering bills with their signatures scribbled across them.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm heading out with the raid team, if it's not too much trouble, could you...?"

"I'll come again next time! Please give a 2+1 discount then!"

"Really, c'mon, can't I buy a carton of cigarettes? Please?"

When there was only the relic of the Samcheon guild leader, it had been handled with care, but with the addition of Sword Marquess's bill, it suddenly seemed trivial.

The currencies left by Awakeners varied widely.

Old five-thousand-won bills, two-dollar bills, East German marks (these were the most fascinating), yen, euros, pounds, Greek, Hong Kong dollars, Vietnamese dong, Philippine pesos, North Korean won, Indian and Nepalese rupees...

Before I knew it, the area behind my counter was filled with bills.

Occasionally, when I had time, I would quietly observe the exhibition.

Every time a bill filled the gaping holes in the cigarette display like bricks, I felt as if my inner well was slightly replenishing.

If life is ultimately a journey to leave behind a single photograph, perhaps my 90th portrait would look like this.

"Comrade Manager..."

"Hm?"

Fairy number 264 set down a box of Zero Drinks. Under the Saemaul hat, his expression was utterly deflated.

"This is the last box of Zero Drinks. Huff..."

"Is that so. What about the alcohol?"

"Beer, soju, whiskey, wine, makgeolli, sake... No matter the type, scraping everything together, there are only 50 bottles left. I'm ashamed to say that the funding for alcohol has dried up..."

Not just alcohol, nearly all stocked items were exhausted.

There's no such thing as an eternally flowing oasis.

But what of it? Have you ever seen someone who refuses to cast shade because they fear the tree might rot someday?

"Here."

I took out a Heaven's Champion sausage.

Perk up! At the sight of the sausage, Fairy number 264's ears stood up.

For some reason, unknown to me, fairies swoon over this particular sausage.

"Ah! I thought all the sausages were gone!"

"Eat it secretly from the others."

"Yes. I've been pressing the headquarters continuously, but it seems difficult."

"...I see."

The Saintess did not argue with my words and simply nodded.

The apocalypse had surged right up to us.

Yet, the Saintess had not died. Not just this cycle. She had almost 'always' survived until the last day.

Her attachment to life was a bit different.

She had imposed a duty on herself to live.

"Could you make me a cup of coffee?"

"Understood."

I took the last remaining coffee beans, milk, and sugar and made a coffee as close to filter coffee as possible.

This was how we at the Sixth International treated our regular customers.

Naturally, I could afford such a service to our very first regular customer.

"......"

"......"

During the coffee, the Saintess said nothing. She just looked with her deep black eyes at the counter behind me, the shelves inside the store, and outside the window.

Especially, her gaze lingered long on the cases of bills.

"That was well drunk. Here, the bill."

The Saintess offered a fifty-thousand-won bill.

"No need for change. I'll come again."

On the back of the bill was written [Your first customer.]

That day was the last time an Awakener visited the convenience store.

In the middle of the night, I locked up the store and went out to the Han River.

The night sky was filled with the Milky Way. Red light. Green light. Purple light. The Milky Way seemed like a long-ripped lip, and within it, countless stars twinkled as if they would pour down at any moment.

And they actually did pour down.

The gate that Samcheon and the guild coalition had tried to seal at the cost of their lives had now completely opened, releasing a disaster made of starlight onto the earth.

A guaranteed event in Gyeongsangnam-do in the 7th year of regression, and in Seoul in the 12th year.

It was known as the Meteor Stream.

"This cycle ends with the Meteor Ending."

I sat on the riverbank, looking up at the sky.

One could survive if they avoided it, but there was nothing left to do in this cycle if one did.

There were countless things to do in the next cycle.

'Not a bad vacation.'

I opened my smartphone.

While waiting for the stars to fall, I flipped through the photos saved on my phone.

Originally, I wasn't in the habit of taking pictures. More precisely, as a regressor, I had lost that habit.

Although photos were items meant for preservation, they had failed to serve that role for me.

However, knowing they would disappear, I couldn't help but take these photos.

[This coffee shop has great coffee. Samcheon, Dang Seo-rin]

[Sword Marquess of Yuldoguk.]

[Thanks for the fun. Lee Ju-ho.]

[Sincerely grateful. But no matter how I think about it, the store's name and clerk shirts are strange. Are you a member of the Red Army? Posted by Uehara Shino.]

[Visiting on a school trip! Baekwha Girls' High♡ May our love last a thousand miles forever - by 天寥化.]

[The way here is too inconvenient. Thought I'd die carrying wine bottles. - NDH]

[Go Sixth International, fight on! - Sim Ah-ryeon]

[If you had just sold one carton of cigarettes, it would have been GOAT... Y]

......

[Your first customer.]

Unknowingly, the corners of my mouth lifted.

Why I had accepted the life of a regressor, who I wanted to help, why I wanted to help,

the reasons now filled my heart more distinctly than ever before.

Twelve years had been enough to supply the water necessary for a regressor's life.

Of course, maybe in a hundred years, I'll have to take another vacation.

'Hold on. Isn't the Meteor Ending a bit old-fashioned?'

The whole world was flooded with starlight.

The time of regression.

Today, I retired as the 12-year convenience store manager and rejoined as a regressor.

Footnotes:

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