I’m an Infinite Regressor, But I’ve Got Stories to Tell - Chapter 357

The Missing IX

Spring came.

Summer came.

Autumn too. Winter as well.

In a city that shouldn’t exist, on a timeline of cycles that shouldn’t exist, flowers that shouldn’t bloom were in full bloom.

For Dang Seo‑rin, the Lord of Utopia, it could only have been a harsh season.

If you analogized it to the Cthulhu TRPG, her character sheet proudly listed [Flower Phobia] and [Plant Phobia].

‘Ahh! On that window! On that window! Flowers!’

‘Daangkiiiiyaaaah!’

A sanity check might have been triggered in other circumstances, but surprisingly enough, Seo‑rin remained silent. Even as her companions fell into Corruption one by one, the Lost One of Time and Space, the Great Witch, sat quietly.

Perhaps a bit too quietly.

There on a bench on the beach, she seemed to be enjoying the flower viewing—watching the city, where the vegetation of spring, summer, autumn, and winter had mixed, losing any sense of seasonality.

She sat as if entranced by the flowers.

“Dang Seo‑rin.”

“…Ah, Undertaker. On a walk?”

“Something like that.”

Only when the breath drew near did Seo‑rin turn toward me.

Her gaze was somehow lost.

Even if a person was lost, they could still sit. In silence, she shifted her hips to make room, and I, in turn, silently sat beside her on the bench. After entrusting a moment of silence to the summer cherry blossoms falling at three centimeters per second, I softly drew in a breath of spring with my lips.

“I heard from Dok‑seo. Your heart took quite the blow during the week Ah‑ryeon was Corrupted.”

“What hardship? I just clicked my magic at the right times— No… Hmm.” Seo‑rin shook her head. “You’re right. There’s no need to put on a brave face in front of me. I did go through a lot. More specifically, I was a bit shocked.”

“Could you tell me what kind of shock?”

She pursed her lips. It was not a sign of refusal or rejection, but her choosing her words carefully so that she would neither lie to me nor to herself.

“Until now…” she began slowly. “I believed I was the only one, the special one to you. Somehow.” When I didn’t respond, she continued, “I mean, doesn’t that make sense? Even after turning into a monster wearing human skin like this, you still told me you’d stay by my side.”

Seo‑rin flicked her hand in a wave, and the citizens strolling through Utopia’s gardens all turned their backs and vanished. They had acted in obedience to their Lord of the Realm’s command.

Before Yu Ji‑won received the divine possession as a Miko, those citizens had barely maintained their humanity, now they revealed their true natures completely.

The aurora shot up by the silver‑haired Miko rippled in endless waves above us, dyeing the night sky of the failed worldline.

Once again, it told me that this was objectively nothing more than the aftermath of a bad ending.

“But Dok‑seo… that brat who dragged you through agony and back made me realize something. Ah.” Seo‑rin forced a bitter smile. “What it means that you’ve suffered nine hundred ninety‑nine failures… I was just one failure among those nine hundred ninety‑nine failures.”

“Dang Seo‑rin.”

“No, it’s not self‑pity. I’m not blaming you. Quite the opposite. I should have foreseen from the start how cruel the suggestion to bring you back for the 1,000th time would be―but I didn’t. I’m just reproaching myself is all.”

She looked down at her hand. As guided by winds of fate, the wind carried a blue hydrangea, a white petunia, baby’s breath, a sunflower petal, and a scarlet spider lily, placing each gently into her palm.

“I hoped I wouldn’t become a burden to you.”

“…I’ve never once considered you a burden.”

“I didn’t want to see you cry.”

I had no answer to that.

“When I died by the Ten Legs, when I got caught in the Meteor Shower, when I screamed away on the frontline, I didn’t want to know what expression you’d have.” Seo‑rin looked up at the sky and said, “You know what? When I locked myself in a sealed room for about four days, the Student Council President busted in. She actually tried to kill Dok‑seo.”

…Did she actually? Yo‑hwa was one of the most emotional personalities in the Regressor Alliance. It was entirely plausible.

“But Dok‑seo, that child, deployed a transparent barrier and just blocked the whole building.”

“Absolute Barrier. It’s Dok‑seo’s power.”

“Yeah. It looked like Dok‑seo had already Fallen. Damn, the Student Council President struck with all their might, but it didn’t budge.”

I grimaced. “That brat. She’s a troublemaker who surrendered her Outer God to humanity. She must’ve already reached the peak of her Miko powers by the time she was pulled into the 173rd cycle.”

“Is the Saintess precious to you?”

It was an ambush.

Seo‑rin wasn’t looking at me. After all, the city of Utopia was like her eyes, ears, even her innards.

I nodded. “Yes… She’s precious.”

“From the moment you realized this was a bonus stage, your first thought was about saving the Saintess in the 267th cycle?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been thinking about her all along. You’ve always wanted to save her. So you made your decision without hesitation. Right?”

“…Yes.”

I took something from my pocket. It tinkled, quiet and cheap.

It was a silver bell, one from the lobby of Busan Station. This 9,900‑won silver bell stayed by my side in any given cycle.

Only then did Seo‑rin turn and gaze at the bell. Her violet eyes seemed to feel its warmth. A moment later, she murmured, “It’s hard… I want you not to be hurt. I want you not to suffer because of me. But at the same time… I want you to think of me, always. Yet if you always think of me… you’ll think of my death too. It’s all contradictions.”

“I don’t blame anyone for falling into contradictions,” I said firmly. “I’m the weak one, after all.”

“You idiot. No one thinks that.”

“To hide contradictions for oneself, or reveal them for others. I believe only that matters.”

Seo‑rin was silent for a moments, then rose from the bench. “Yeah, you’re right.”

On the Great Witch’s head sat a pointed hat; in her hand hung a well‑worn broom.

“You’re right,” she muttered again. “You haven’t forgotten how to fly yet, my guardian?”

She smiled.

“Today, we’ll fly.”

Of course, I’d long since withdrawn from the Samcheon World, so I was a poor mage without a dedicated broom.

Yet it mattered not.

“Ready, Undertaker?”

“Always am, Seo-rin.”

With a tap of Seo‑rin’s foot gracing the ground, the broom shot up and I gently wrapped my arms around her waist from behind.

If it were a bicycle or motorcycle, helmets would be required for the passenger, but alas, the muggles on the Korean peninsula hadn’t applied traffic laws to brooms. Thanks to that, though, I could watch the world’s greatest witch‑pilot’s flight skills with my bare face.

“How far are we going?”

“That’s a secret,” Seo‑rin said with a giggle. “I’ll give you one hint: a place stuffed with the world’s tastiest cheese.”

The altitude climbed endlessly higher.

In the mid‑atmosphere, we even collided with a curtain of auroras. Each hue in the aurora hissed as if a living snake.

Just as they discovered us and swerved to attack, the bands of aurora paused. Then, clearing a path for our passage, they formed a hole in the empty sky.

Seo‑rin huffed in interest. “Looks like even the Void Poison covering the Earth is free‑passing for you, my guardian. Charming existence from long before the world was doomed?”

I remained silent.

I didn’t proclaim that if I hadn’t stopped that girl Yu Ji‑won back then, the whole world would’ve drowned under Leviathan’s rain and perished ages ago. The ENFJ Dang Seo‑rin would’ve called me a son of a bitch, plucked out my eyes, and sent me free‑diving from the stratosphere to the Pacific.

“Be careful. From here on, it’s space.”

“Mm.”

After passing through the troposphere, stratosphere, mesosphere, thermosphere, and the “aurorasphere,” darkness enveloped us.

Fortunately, Leviathan honored its Miko’s request and granted me the right to use Aura, which I summoned to shield my body.

I frowned as I looked down. In the middle of space unfolded what “used to be Earth.”

“Like I thought… The surface has flattened out.”

“Mm. Conspiracy theorists would freak.”

Flat Earth theory. Geocentrism.

The “sun,” now greatly diminished, orbited around what remained of Earth alongside the moon. In no uncertain terms, they had been Corrupted by Anomalies.

“That’s said to be the work of the Night Goddess Nut’s contamination, right?”

“Ah. It used to be treated as a variant of Shadow or Monster Wave. But it’s officially classified as an Outer God.”

“Outer God… I suppose. It’s not content with Earth or the Sun alone.”

The broom sped up a bit. Eventually, when we landed at our apparent destination, I couldn’t hide my astonishment.

“My goodness. Cheese? Dang Seo‑rin, how many people these days even know Wallace and Gromit?”

“Why not? A sequel came out in 2024—the latest one too.”

Seo‑rin’s chosen nighttime travel spot was none other than Earth’s only… no, now sole remaining satellite.

We were on the moon.

‘But…’

The moon’s appearance felt a bit off. Well, compared to the completely flattened Earth, it was small potatoes, yet there was a stark gulf between the moon I remembered and this universe’s moon.

Th𝕀𝑠 ƈh𝘢pṯ𝕖r 𝚒ʂ p𝟬𝗌𝗍ℯⅆ bƴ Ⱪ𝒾𝙩ᥱ𝑛◎νꬲ𝗅

“This place is… smooth.”

“Yes. Like a silver platter.”

Originally, the moon should’ve been pockmarked by meteor impacts, a lumpy bread roll texture, but this moon was unnaturally pristine.

No bumps—not a single scratch.

A pure white world.

“A silver platter, you might say. It’s almost…”

I tried to think back, feeling an odd sort of dissonance. I’d seen a similar scene somewhere, but strangely, it wouldn’t come to mind.

I looked around and spoke my honest impression. “It’s like a mirror.”

“Heh heh. Exactly.”

Seo‑rin folded her arms behind her back.

In the silence of space, except for our breathing and footsteps, nothing else could be heard. Her voice, humming as if singing a tune, seeped through.

“You know, Undertaker.”

“Mm?”

“No one can eavesdrop here.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

“Because it’s the moon. Your sole observer. Even the Saintess’s Clairvoyance can’t reach here.”

Silence enveloped us on all sides. In this vast space, only our gazes met—like waves crashing against each other’s pupils and shattering into nothing.

Carried by that current, my heart pounded.

How much had Dang Seo‑rin uncovered?

How much…

“Nut, you know.”

She spoke softly.

“You confidently explained and detailed out every other Outer God, yet somehow, when it came to Nut, you trailed off—saying you still don’t really understand her, that her true nature remains a mystery.”

“…Because I truly don’t know her. It’s only natural.”

“Mm-mm.” Seo‑rin shook her head. “I told you earlier, you’ve been agonizing over how to rescue the Saintess all this time. But surely, you must have endlessly researched and probed Nut as well. You’re just that kind of person.”

Thump.

“Hey, you know,” he said again, “it’s strange, isn’t it?”

“…What is?”

“Why doesn’t Nut envelop the world in this cycle?”

“…Because Nut is the quintessential Last‑Hit Parasite. In this cycle, the Monster Wave didn’t destroy Utopia. That’s why.”

Seo‑rin smiled wryly. “Liar. You know? When Dok‑seo showed you that illusion, I was right beside you. When Do‑hwa died… even before the Monster Wave arrived, Nut appeared first and killed both you and her, right? Monster Wave and Nut aren’t the same. Sure, they might be related, but fundamentally, they’re separate. Even if the Monster Wave hadn’t swept through Utopia, it’s odd that Nut would behave so quietly.”

I…

I regretted it.

I had underestimated Dang Seo‑rin.

I never expected her to piece together the full picture from such small clues. I’d let my guard down.

“The more you repeat cycles, the stronger Nut, the Outer God, grows.”

“…”

“No one else can enter your sealed territory—Time Seal—yet somehow only Nut can visit. Right? As if you unconsciously permitted only her entry.”

“…”

“Nut creates ‘a paradise nowhere in this world.’ She abducts people, and those people find happiness in her divine realm.”

“…”

“And Leviathan, who’s always been so docile… the moment you and I traveled across the Pacific, it convulsed as if its territory had been invaded.”

“…”

“Hey.”

She spoke, a sorrowful smile flickering on her lips.

“It’s such a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“…”

“Undertaker.”

She said, turning to me.

“I know. You dressed it up with fancy words like ‘bonus stage,’ but this world—this cycle—was one you vowed to live for me, and no one else.”

“…Ah.”

“But you, without a moment’s hesitation, would never devote everything to someone else—no matter if it were the Saintess—right in front of me.”

“…”

“You’re not that kind of person. No, absolutely not.”

“…”

“The Night Goddess—an entity that feeds on the Regressor’s time, that grows stronger for the one you allow to visit even in dreams, that you keep letting slip away with half‑spoken words.”

She spoke.

“She’s just like… me, right?” ​