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

Chapter 224

Chapter 224

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The Concealer I

By now, you all know there are some topics I deliberately avoid discussing in these stories. For example, the exact moment when the world was destroyed. I’m always singing about how it all went to hell, but surprisingly, there are very few times when a “world_destruction_1_second_before.avi” file gets recorded on my camera.

There are two legitimate reasons for this, as I am the embodiment of rationality.

The first reason is quite altruistic. I do it to protect the honor and reputation of my comrades.

For example, in a few cycles, Lee Ha-yul killed me.

Of course, it wasn’t actually Ha-yul. It only looked like her on the outside. In reality, she had been completely corrupted by the Void Poison and had turned into a full-fledged anomaly. It wasn’t as if Ha-yul had an intense Oedipus complex and specifically tried to kill me in some father-figure execution ritual.

- Undertaker. I’m sorry, but could you die with me?

- Please go to hell, teacher.

- ......

Sim Ah-ryeon, Dang Seo-rin, Cheon Yo-hwa, the Saintess, and many others. No matter the cycle, those who survived with me until the end, more often than not, turned dark and delivered the finishing blow to me.

(Do-hwa, by the way, didn’t need to fulfill that condition to randomly try to kill me whenever she felt like it.)

Just to clarify, I don’t hold any grudges. There’s no way my comrades would have done this by their own will. None of this was their fault. It was all the fault of the vile anomalies that manipulated and controlled them against their will.

But how would the rest of you—my dear readers—feel about it?

“They— They blew up the protagonist’s head! How evil!”

“I can feel the rage building. Let’s kill them before they join the group.”

“Get them out! Get them out now!”

I could easily foresee such witch hunts and baseless slander lighting up the forums, given my understanding of subcultures. There would probably be something like, “Only Go Yuri, who killed the protagonist just once, is the true comrade!” What a terrible scene. As a regressor with both common sense and decency, I simply couldn’t allow it.

So, from the perspective of national interest, I decided to erase most of the cycles where my comrades killed me. I’m sure this decision will sadden fans of grimdark novels, but I ask for your understanding.

Now, what’s the second reason?

“Hyung.”

“Oh, Seo Gyu.”

“It’s me—SG Man. I’m the mastermind behind everything.”

The second reason is, well...

Sometimes, it’s just fucking hilarious.

No matter how dire the situation, even if the world was about to end, whenever SG Man Seo Gyu suddenly pulled a straight face and delivered lines like that, it made me wonder, “Is the end of the world really such a heavy topic?”

This was what I call Mastermind Syndrome. Whenever someone other than me survived until the end, they’d start acting weird, convinced that they were the one who orchestrated the world’s end, becoming the “mastermind.”

It just so happened that in the 243rd cycle, that person was Seo Gyu. It was also the first time in my life as Undertaker that Seo Gyu (aside from me) was the last survivor.

For someone like SG Man, who was usually the first to get his head blown off, to survive until the end of the world—it was truly awe-inspiring.

“Seo Gyu.”

“Yes, hyung.”

“If I weren’t here, the Tutorial Fairy would have blown your head off, right? I mean, come on, you can’t seriously think you’re the mastermind?”

Seo Gyu clicked his tongue and waved his finger left and right. “You just don’t get it. As always.”

“......”

For that brief moment, I almost killed him right then and there. The fact that he could break my tranquil, regressor’s composure with such a simple provocation—his trolling skills were truly formidable.

“As with all stories, the true mastermind always appears in the prologue, hyung. And your prologue was at the Busan Station Concourse, wasn’t it? Now, who was the very first character to leave a strong impression on the readers there?”

“Well... that would be you, right?”

“Exactly. So, naturally, I’m the most qualified to be the mastermind. I’ve been hiding the truth all this time.”

“No...”

You were destined to die there, you lunatic.

I tried to convey my thoughts to him by deliberately manipulating my facial muscles, but it didn’t work on Seo Gyu, who had been completely consumed by Mastermind Syndrome.

“I was treated as nothing more than an errand boy for the SG Net. That was just part of my disguise. I appeared first, but my true importance was hidden... Isn’t that the very definition of a mastermind?”

“Or maybe you just weren’t that important.”

“Hoh.” Seo Gyu gave me a deadly smile. “What if I made you think that?”

I decided to return that deadliness to its owner. I squeezed my Aura into my fist and punched him.

“Fufu, how savage, hyung.”—cough—“But it’s too late.”—cough, cough—“No matter how much violence you use, nothing will change... Hic, ack, hoo...”

It didn’t do much good.

Mastermind Syndrome instilled its victim with limitless confidence, made them say “fufu” every time they laughed, reduced their pupils to 1% of their usual size, and instilled in them the false belief that everything was going according to their plan.

But it didn’t give them any power.

I lifted Seo Gyu into the air.

“Fufu. Even if you get rid of me now, I will return one day...”

Then I threw him off the cliff.

This wasn’t just any cliff. In the 243rd cycle, the Flat Earth Theory had become a reality, and the Earth was literally flat. I had thrown him off the edge of the world.

Laughing creepily with his “fufufu” laugh, Seo Gyu fell into the Void.

At least he didn’t die alone. Not long after, I died too.

In that cycle, the edge of the world kept closing in, and eventually, all of Korea fell off. I couldn’t escape the Falling-to-My-Death ending.

Normally, Mastermind Syndrome was just a minor nuisance that annoyed me during the final stages of certain cycles. That is, until something changed.

The anomaly occurred in the very next cycle, the 244th.

The moment I opened my eyes in the Busan Station Concourse, I immediately felt that something was horribly wrong.

‘What the hell?’

It didn’t happen often. The only other time I’d felt something similar was after the 135th cycle, when the world was destroyed by the Admin of the Infinite Metagame, and I found a laptop resting on my thigh.

But this time, the feeling was different. It wasn’t that something had been “added” to my regression. It was the opposite.

“You fucking garbage! What the hell are you talking about?!”

Seo Gyu was yelling at the Tutorial Fairy again, just like always, but... something was missing from his head.

His hair was gone.

It might sound strange to say his hair was missing from his head, but basically, his hair was all gone.

In other words, his scalp was completely bald.

“Pfft—!”

“Huh? What’s going on?”

“That’s disgusting...”

I couldn’t help but spit out the Ceylon Tea I had just bought from the vending machine, and the people around me recoiled in disgust. But I didn’t even have time to wipe my mouth. Not only had tea come out, but my soul had almost slipped out as well.

What the hell was that?

“You bastard! If you’re going to drag us here, you should start by apologizing. Where do you get off running your mouth like that...?”

“Excuse me. Just a moment. Uh, pardon me. Can I have a word with you, Mr. Seo Gyu?”

“Huh?”

I pushed through the crowd and approached Seo Gyu. He was mid-tirade, angrily shouting at the Fairy, but when I called his name, he hesitated.

Confusion flashed across Seo Gyu’s eyes as he looked at me. Of course, since in this cycle, we were complete strangers to each other, that made sense.

“...Who are you, and why are you butting in?”

“Don’t you remember me? I took personal training (PT) lessons with you a while ago.”

“Oh?”

“Down in Nam-gu. At that 4th-floor PT center. Don’t you remember?”

Seo Gyu looked flustered. He had actually worked as a PT trainer at a center. The address I gave was also where he used to work.

Naturally, the anger melted from his eyes, replaced by fear—the fear of a PT trainer who couldn’t recognize his own client.

“Oh, right. Yes. It’s been a while. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“No worries. You taught me so well back then that I actually became really interested in PT. I used to be a twig, but thanks to you, I became a new person.”

Seo Gyu’s eyes quickly scanned my upper and lower body, calling upon the natural ability of a PT trainer to assess someone’s physique. Of course, the muscles I had developed through the [Resume] ability across various cycles were incredibly refined and optimized for combat.

Seo Gyu’s face darkened. Was it possible that he had truly forgotten such an excellent trainee?

“Ah, well... thank you...”

“Instead of fighting with that strange fairy, why don’t we go have a little chat?”

“Huh? Strange? What do you mean strange? These humans, accusing me out of nowhere... The unfairness of it all is truly terrifying...”

For the record, this was the fastest and most effective way to prevent SG Man Seo Gyu from having his head blown off and stop Fairy No.264 from getting him killed. Despite being reckless, Seo Gyu had a surprisingly strong sense of responsibility for the roles he took on.

Anyway, I pulled Seo Gyu aside, and using the most roundabout, polite, and non-offensive language possible, I asked him:

Q: When did you go bald?

A: Huh? I’ve always been bald.

What the hell?

Before his expression could shift to one of suspicion—wondering if I really had been his PT client—I quickly moved on.

Finally, I had a moment to look at the other people in the concourse, the ones who were, in MZ-generation terms, bound together by this shared fate.

And soon enough, I realized that it wasn’t just Seo Gyu who had been altered.

“I don’t want to join Lee Baek’s group!”

“Whaaaat?”

“No matter how much you glare at me, threatening won’t change my mind. I said no, and I mean it!”

Ah-ryeon no longer stuttered. If I hadn’t intervened, she would have been dragged off by Lee Baek, but in this 244th cycle, she clearly voiced her own convictions.

Could this be the work of an anomaly?

“Hmm, interesting...”

And Go Yuri no longer had a shadow.

No one else had noticed yet, but I could see it clearly. Her clothes cast a shadow, but her hair, limbs, and the rest of her body did not.

Definitely the work of an anomaly.

‘What the hell is going on? This is way too early in the cycle for the Butterfly Effect to have kicked in.’

I was completely bewildered. Had the timeline somehow changed in this 244th cycle?

But the Busan Station Concourse was just the tutorial. The real shock came after I left the station.

“Hello. My name is Dang Seo-rin.”

“......”

“I’m gathering people to try and survive in this messed-up world. Undertaker, would you like to join me?”

Seo-rin extended her hand, inviting me to join her in co-founding something together—but there was no witch’s hat.

There was no broomstick either.

With a trembling voice, I asked her, “Excuse me, this may sound odd, but... didn’t you use to like Harry Potter and trains?”

“Huh? What are you talking about? I like Pokémon and cars.”

“......”

ANOMALY ALERT!

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