Chapter 17 – Internationalist III

Chapter 17 – Internationalist III

[Proofreader – Gun]

Chapter 17 – Internationalist III

Usually, the mind is metaphorically compared to the heart, and the heart is compared to fire.

Like when the heart burns. Or when the fire of the heart grows.

But in my case, ‘water’ was often a more fitting expression.

After the incident where my heart was cut off after being ignited by Koryori’s red flesh, my heart’s well dried up for a while.

A symptom commonly referred to as burnout.

As a regressor, it was a slump I encountered at any given moment.

“Total annihilation...”

“If Three Thousand disappears, won’t there only be Mount Hua left as top-tier guilds in Korea?”

“Well, what about the corpse-parks... Those guys are a bit... They’re suspicious if they’re even in a guild or not.”

“Anyway, the empty extermination failed. I looked up at the night sky last night and it gave me chills.”

After tidying up Tang Seorin’s remains and burying them on the beach, when I returned, I saw Awakeneds whispering under the parasol outside the convenience store.

For some reason, that whispering sounded to me like the soothing sound of water.

The sound of water was attached to a single object.

[This place is a great coffee spot. Three Thousand World, Tang Seorin.]

A wine-colored thousand-won note.

I transferred the note with the signature of the Three Thousand guild leader to an acrylic case. Then, I decorated the back of the convenience store counter, where cigarettes are usually displayed, with the note case.

Given that recently, even the underground warehouse started to reveal its contents, and among them, the most scarce resources were alcohol and cigarettes, there was plenty of space to display the note.

Naturally, customers could also admire the exhibition whenever they passed by the checkout counter.

One day, the old man, raised his hand and pointed.

“Store owner, what in the world is that valuable item? I can feel an unusual aura emanating from it.”

“Oh, that? It’s a signature left by the leader of the Three Thousand guild leader before she went to catch a shooting star.”

“Hmm...”

The old man nodded thoughtfully and left the convenience store.

The next day, as usual, the old man bought a bottle of green makgeolli and casually placed a ten thousand won bill on the counter.

“Store owner, this is a rare coral that I personally collected.”

“A coral? What coral is this?”

“Take a closer look at the picture.”

I looked.

Behind the sturdy shoulders of King Sejong, there was indeed a drawing of coral.

“...?”

Honestly, his drawing skills were pathetic. If Heungseon Daewongun had seen it, he would’ve been furious, calling it a pineapple leaf instead of a drawing.

Still, I guess he put some effort into it, because in one corner of the cabbage leaf, the signature “Gyeomho, the Hunter of Yuldo Country” was intricately written like a hidden gem.

Gyeomho seemed quite proud of his work as he sniffed. Among the old man’s appearance, the only somewhat acceptable feature was his bushy mustache.

“Please hang it up like a folding screen in your store.”

“....”

Well, it wouldn’t hurt, I guess.

I displayed Gyeomho’s bill without much thought.

But it seemed to have become a turning point somehow.

Customers who visited my convenience store started to hand me bills with their own signatures, without hesitation.

“Hey, boss. I’m going on an expedition team this time. Would it be too much trouble if I...?”

“I’ll come back next time! Give me a discount of 2+1 then!”

“Can you please just sell me one pack of cigarettes? Please?”

While I had been cautious when only Three Thousand guild memorabilia was displayed, now that Gyeomho’s bill was also on display, suddenly it seemed less intimidating.

The currency left behind by the Awakeneds varied in type.

Old five-thousand-won notes, two-dollar bills, East German Marks (that one was the most interesting), yen, euros, pounds, Mongolian Tugriks, Hong Kong dollars, Vietnamese Dong, Philippine pesos, North Korean won, Indian Rupees, and Nepalese Rupees...

Before I knew it, the back of my checkout counter was filled with currencies.

Occasionally, when I had some time to spare, I would quietly gaze at the exhibition.

As each bill filled the cigarette display rack like bricks, I couldn’t help but feel my heart’s well filling up a bit.

If life is ultimately a journey to leave behind a single picture, then perhaps this would be my 90th portrait.

“Boss...”

“Hmm?”

Fairy number 264 placed down a box of zero drinks. Her expression under the new village hat looked completely defeated.

“This is the last box of zero drinks. Heuk...”

“Is that so? What about alcoholic beverages?”

“We only have about 50 bottles left, including beer, soju, whiskey, wine, makgeolli, sake... We’ve gathered them all regardless of type, but now the funds for the revolution have dried up... It’s embarrassing...”

It wasn’t just alcoholic beverages. The stockpile of almost every item had run out.

There’s no such thing as an eternal oasis.

But what can you do? Have you ever seen a tree refusing to cast a shadow for fear it might rot someday?

She quietly glanced around the shop. Several shelves were empty, almost like teeth missing from a comb. Signs reading [Temporarily Sold Out – Please Await Restocking] were hung on those shelves.

The Saintess murmured.

“Restocking seems to be delayed a lot.”

“Yes. I keep urging the headquarters, but it seems futile.”

“...I see.”

The Saintess didn’t offer any rebuttal to my words; she simply accepted them quietly.

The impending end was looming close.

Despite the circumstances, the Saintess had not perished. It wasn’t just this turn; she had ‘almost certainly’ survived until the last day every time.

It was a slightly different kind of attachment to life.

She was imposing obligations on herself when it came to life.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

I brought the last remaining coffee beans, milk, and sugar, and made coffee as close to a pot-brewed one as possible.

This was how the shop owner treated regular customers at our 6th International.

Naturally, such service could be offered to our first regular customer.

“......”

“......”

While drinking her coffee, the Saintess remained silent. She simply gazed quietly around the counter, the shelves behind it, and outside the glass window.

Her gaze lingered particularly long on the bill cases.

“I’ve enjoyed your coffee. Here, the money.”

The Saintess handed me a ten-thousand-won bill.

“You don’t have to give me change. I’ll come back next time.”

The back of the bill read.

[Your first customer].

That day, there were no more visits from Awakeneds to the convenience store.

In the middle of the night, I closed the shop and went out to the Han River.

The Milky Way stretched across the night sky. Red, green, violet. The Milky Way looked like a long torn lip, and within it, countless stars twinkled as if they would fall any moment.

And indeed, they fell.

The gate that the guilds, including Samcheon, had tried desperately to seal, even defying death, was now fully open, pouring a disaster made of starlight onto the earth.

In the 7th year of regression, an event that inevitably occurred in Gyeongsangnam-do, and in the 12th year, in Seoul. It was called the Meteor Strike.

“This turn is a Meteor Ending.”

I sat on the riverside hill and looked up at the sky.

You could survive by avoiding it, but even if I managed to survive alone, there was nothing to do in this turn.

There was plenty to do in the next turn.

‘It wasn’t a bad vacation.’

I opened my smartphone.

While waiting for the stars to fall, I flicked through the photos stored on my phone.

I never used to take photos. More accurately, I had lost the habit as I lived as a regressor. Photos were meant to preserve memories, but they couldn’t fulfill that role for me.

Yet, knowing they would eventually disappear, I couldn’t help but take these photos.

[This place is a great coffee spot. Samcheonsa World, Tang Seorin.]

[The Huntress of the Land of the Dead.]

[Thanks for the good times. Lee Jooho.]

[I sincerely appreciate it. But no matter how much I think about it, the name of the shop and the shop assistant’s t-shirt seem odd. Are you, by any chance, a member of the Red Army Faction? Regards, Uehara Shino.]

[Math Trip! Baekhwa High School ♡ Our Love, May it Last Forever – by Tianliao Hua]

[The journey here was so uncomfortable. I felt like I was going to die carrying wine bottles. – NDH]

[6th International, Fighting! – Sim A-ryeon]

[You would’ve been the GOAT if you sold just one carton of cigarettes each...... Y]

.

.

.

[Your First Customer.]

Without realizing it, the corners of my mouth lifted.

The reasons why I accepted the life of a regressor, who I wanted to help, and why I wanted to help became vividly clear in my heart, unlike before.

Twelve years seemed to be enough time to supply the essentials for a regressor’s life.

Of course, in another hundred years, I’d probably need another vacation.

‘But wait. Doesn’t the Meteor Ending feel a bit old-fashioned?’

The whole world was filled with starlight.

A moment of regression.

On that day, I retired as a convenience store owner of 12 years and once again returned to being a regressor.

[Proofreader – Gun]