Chapter 58

Puppeteer I

This story's genre is somewhat bizarre mystery.

I occasionally use the term 'route.'

This is because I often liken my journey to prevent the world's destruction to mountain climbing.

Mountaineers who ascend the Himalayas often refer to the paths they take as 'routes.' I, too, borrow their terminology to describe my own strategies.

The grand premise of a regressor.

'How can one prevent destruction?'

How can one conquer the summit of the 'Everest of time' that no human has ever reached?

Throughout my 1183 cycles of regression, there have indeed been countless routes.

For example, from the 35th cycle to the 107th cycle, the paths I tried to pioneer were the 'Civilization Rebuilding Route' or the 'Revival Route.' For this ascent, the members of my climbing team were as follows:

1) The presence of a 'Saintess' who could observe all awakeners within the radius and maintain a very high moral standard.

2) The presence of 'Seo Gyu' with the ubiquitous ability to maintain SG Net, a community where all awakeners could participate anytime, anywhere, regardless of their segmented activity ranges.

3) The presence of 'Noh Do-hwa,' a national road management corps leader who could connect and maintain road networks between city bases without political corruption.

4) The presence of someone who could mediate and lead them all, always diligent, a modern-day knight in shining armor, in other words, me, the Undertaker.

Those who have followed my story thus far would agree that my preparation was methodical and thorough.

Even in the situation where we lost Old Man Scho, the strongest swordsman and the ultimate joker, I pride myself on having done my best.

However, the 'Revival Route' collapsed in an instant.

-Please remember, Undertaker.

-The abilities of awakeners are not purely blessings. They are double-edged swords.

Codename, Saintess.

Her codename after falling, Executioner.

The appearance of this being completely derailed the route I had planned.

-If awakeners become so accustomed to their abilities that they are consumed by them, they will become monstrous like me.

-20 years. Ideally, before 15 years approach, you must restore the world to its original form. Please remember, Undertaker.

That's right.

Awakeners were never the complete opposites of monsters. They were of the same kind. If monsters were beings born from the void, awakeners were nurturing monsters in their minds and hearts.

Dang Seo-rin. Noh Do-hwa. Cheon Yo-hwa. Sword Marquess.

The abilities they possessed, miracles unattainable by ordinary humans, were not just blessings but also curses.

By now, some readers might be starting to understand why I had to struggle through 1183 cycles.

Exactly. To catch monsters, you need awakeners, but if an awakener becomes too powerful, they turn into a colossal monster. It’s as if the world itself is—

‘Do you perhaps enjoy bleak stories? In fact, I do enjoy them very much. Bleak.’

‘Here, I've made a bleak stew that's quite delicious. Would you like to try just one spoonful...?’

It’s like they shyly ask, forcing their preferences on others.

You might think, "What kind of lunatic would do such a thing?" Unfortunately, the world’s unreasonable fate doesn’t end here.

But for now, I’ll set aside the regressor’s complaints.

Today, I want to talk briefly about the first route I ever established.

Called the 'A Route.'

The first route in my regressor life, also known as the 'Academy Route.'

Unlike other routes, the 'A Route' was uniquely co-created by Old Man Scho and me.

It was before Old Man Scho went on his damned vacation (seriously, if that old man ever comes back).

"Hey, Embalmer."

Old Man Scho said while lifting a dumbbell.

Why he suddenly picked up a dumbbell was beyond me. After all, Old Man Scho was always pumping iron 24/7.

For reference, Embalmer is another name for the Undertaker. Old Man Scho sometimes called me that, not out of respect for my alias, but to sneak in a nuance of 'damn' into the pronunciation. Damn old man.

"Why?"

"Have you heard the news?"

"What news?"

"In Fukuoka... No, kid, why is your tone like that? Huh? Talking back to an elder with that kind of attitude."

The exact time was the 18th cycle.

At this point, Old Man Scho’s mental state was still intact. Of course, even when Old Man Scho was sane, he was just an added German tyrant to the world.

Here’s a surprising fact: that old man graduated from art school.

Doesn’t it sound off?

Anyone who knows history can guess what kind of sentence emerges when 'Germany' combines with 'art school.'

"Did you leave your brain cells behind during your last regression...? Anyway, what about Fukuoka?"

"Oh, right. I heard an interesting awakener has appeared in Fukuoka. Codename Puppeteer."

"Puppeteer? What’s their ability?"

"Who knows. Awakeners usually keep their abilities tightly under wraps. I only heard that the committee courted them several times."

Old Man Scho tapped his nose. It was annoying.

"But I have a feeling. Puppeteer must be exceptional."

"Oh, that feeling."

"Why? My intuition is usually right."

In subculture works, there’s a concept called 'Academy Drift.'

It refers to when a perfectly good work suddenly takes a detour with the protagonist enrolling in an academy, often leading to the work’s decline.

However, there was a very rational reason why Old Man Scho and I established and ran an academy.

“We need to recruit them.”

would be the order.

If Old Man Scho and my fame fluctuated, Dang Seo-rin always maintained the top spot.

She was the leader of the Korean Guild Union (the name varied slightly by cycle). More importantly, her character overwhelmed both Old Man Scho and me.

A witch singing on the battlefield? Isn’t that a cheat? How could two swordsmen compete with that?

Simply put, once you saw Dang Seo-rin singing a four-part a cappella on the battlefield, everyone would think she was amazing. Especially when her song provided buff doping without side effects.

Ah, already the Korean awakeners couldn’t go to boss raids without Dang Seo-rin’s song...

Anyway.

In Korea, my position was the second-in-command, occasionally falling to third when Old Man Scho unleashed his ultimate potential.

“Welcome to Japan, Undertaker!”

Even that level of position was enough to attract a swarm of flies.

“Waaaaaa!”

“Welcome to Busan!”

“Undertaker! Undertaker! Undertaker!”

As soon as I landed at the port, nearly three hundred people cheered in unison. It was more of an army than flies.

Moreover, they vigorously waved banners instead of wings. The banners were emblazoned with symbols like:

[★Pride of Korea, Awakener Undertaker★]

[Welcome to Busan!]

[All members of the Second Provisional Government of Korea]

Ah.

My head hurt.

‘Busan? You idiots...’

Let me explain.

Of course, I had sailed from Busan to Fukuoka, Japan. I didn’t return to Busan after a tour of the Korean Strait.

It wasn’t my destination that had gone crazy but their minds.

Fukuoka (福岡).

Reading the Chinese characters, it means ‘prosperous hill.’ The second character (岡) signifies a mountain or hill.

So, these flies before me decided to call Fukuoka ‘Busan.’ Ignoring the perfectly good city name.

It was akin to telling Native Americans, ‘From now on, you’re Indians.’

The even more ridiculous point was that Japan already had a city called Toyama (富山), which could be phonetically rendered as ‘Busan.’

In short, these people were being triple nuisances to Busan, Fukuoka, and Toyama.

Why on earth?

“Ahaha. Welcome, Undertaker!”

The middle-aged man at the front of the welcoming crowd explained everything.

Mayor Jung.

Real name Jung Sang-guk.

He wasn’t the current mayor. In Korea, the public servant job had been abolished along with elementary, middle, high schools, and universities long ago.

Jung Sang-guk was the ‘former’ mayor of ‘Busan.’

Currently, he was also the head of the Second Provisional Government of Korea.

When a massive void swept over the south of the Han River, causing the Blue House and National Assembly to reconcile and start a grand coalition towards heaven, Sejong and Busan were the remaining city bases to stabilize the situation.

The public servants in Sejong attempted to control the military (and they, too, amicably departed to the bellies of the Ten Legs).

Meanwhile, Mayor Jung Sang-guk of Busan chose a more traditional approach.

-Citizens, what kind of people are we?

-Uh... The people of delivery?

-No, we are the people of Terran.

Jung Sang-guk lifted his supporters and organization, relocating them like a command center.

His generation found this joke quite fitting, and the citizens were impressed.

If Kim Il-sung, the founder of the Daedonggang faction, could only practice teleportation alone, Jung Sang-guk managed a mass teleportation. It was proof that the Nakdonggang faction inherited the martial arts of Samhan. His methods were different.

Now, Koreans acknowledged Jung Sang-guk’s name value on par with Admiral Won Gyun and Prime Minister Lee Wan-yong of the Korean Empire.

Considering Koreans’ typically stringent evaluation of politicians, this was no small feat.

By nature, all politicians are strictly idealists.

Politicians believed that even if they lacked legitimacy in reality, they could always borrow from ideals. So did Jung Sang-guk.

The exile group became a 'government-in-exile,' which suddenly transformed into the 'Second Provisional Government of Korea.' Jung Sang-guk’s business card changed accordingly, now reading 'Prime Minister of the Second Provisional Government of Korea.'

On the day he was elected Prime Minister, Fukuoka was renamed Busan. Thus, Jung Sang-guk also acquired the title of 'Mayor of Busan' as the representative of the Fukuoka Korean Association.

It was madness.

And now I was invited to this mad show.

It was common grammar worldwide for fallen politicians to cling to war heroes.

“I have long admired you, Mr. Undertaker!”

Jung Sang-guk, who once boasted a StarCraft ladder score of 2150 as a Terran user, beamed brightly and hugged me.

Following the Prime Minister of the Second Provisional Government, the ministers of foreign affairs, finance, justice, and internal affairs all shook my hand. It was a very orderly mechanical hug.

I smiled mechanically as well, and inwardly assigned modern MZ-generation nicknames like damn, fuck, damn it to the provisional government ministers.

‘Damn old man. This is why I didn’t want to come to Fukuoka for a business trip.’

Kuk-ku-ku.

From afar, I heard Old Man Scho’s laughter and a hallucination of ‘yeah, your swordsmanship is weak.’ Damn it.

Footnotes:

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