WeTried Translations

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Editor: LiteraryGirl

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

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

Chapter 291

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The Exile II

Kim Ji-soo’s name existed only as a sound. She did not know the meaning of the Chinese characters associated with her name, and the person who could have told her had already died, disappearing from her life a long time ago. Or perhaps recently.

“What a common name,” Yu Ji-won remarked knowingly. “As Confucius said, all things must begin with their names. The same goes for Awakeners. I will give you a name.”

池 or Ji for “pond.” 藪 or soo for “swamp.”

“You are a swamp gathered like a pond in the most secluded corners of the world... You don’t understand? That’s fine. You will understand in due time.”

Ji-won assigned hanja to the names of every person she kidnapped—a term she sometimes replaced with “adopted.” She did not create new names entirely but rather retained the pronunciation of their original names, simply altering their meanings.

Hence, she was not a mother but a “godmother.” Not a figure of blessing or guidance but someone who forcibly took the place of a mother. That was the role Ji-won imposed upon herself.

Before dozens of her “adoptees,” Ji-won gave a calm speech.

“The world is overflowing with Anomalies. These Anomalies are enemies of humanity itself, mocking and degrading it.”

Ji-soo knew this.

“You have left the task of fighting these Anomalies to others simply because you did not Awaken. This is strange. Anomalies do not discriminate between the ordinary and the Awakened when they kill. You, too, are direct participants in this war for survival.”

This, too, she understood.

“You are lazy. Irresponsible. You believe Awakening is a divine blessing and have fled from the battlefield, forfeiting even the opportunity to channel your anger and hatred. Therefore—I will help you.”

This was harder to understand.

“I ask only one thing of you.”

Ji-won’s expressionless eyes swept over her adoptees. According to one of them (whose face Ji-soo no longer remembered), the brush of her gaze felt like a blade slicing through a person’s entire being.

Ji-soo testified that she felt Ji-won’s gaze linger for a particularly long moment on her.

“Face your wounds.”

Difficult words followed.

“Do not look away. Do not flee. Unlike me, you have powerful emotions. Those emotions are your weapons. Look directly at yourself, at the reasons for your pain, your suffering, your desires.”

The godmother spoke.

“Discipline yourselves.”

Discipline: To overcome oneself.

Discipline: To loathe oneself to the extreme.

“Only then will you Awaken.”

And so, hell began.

The details of that hell have already been described in Ji-won’s testimony.

Ji-soo broke. Many times.

“Ji-soo, you have talent.”

A talent she would have been better off without.

“The treatment of Awakeners and the treatment of ordinary people are worlds apart. Like it or not, this era is led by Awakeners. Rejoice, Ji-soo. You have finally reached a position where you can decide your own fate.”

Lies. If that were true, why did this hell never end?

“Hmph,” Ji-won scoffed with a tilt to her head. “How selfish. I’m disappointed. You Awakened before anyone else. Now it is your turn to guide your peers, is it not?”

...

“Someone I admire deeply and to whom I am loyal once said, ‘You cannot truly be human unless you learn to take responsibility.’ If so, then the person who takes the most responsibility must be the most human. Ji-soo, Awakening is not the end. Become human.”

Nothing made sense anymore.

In Ji-soo’s mind, righteousness and evil intertwined. Her brain burned like molten lava, but the oppressive weight of the ceiling above prevented the magma from erupting.

It simply pooled. And kept pooling.

Each attempt to release it resulted in even harsher consequences.

The godmother was a terrifying figure.

“Excellent, Ji-soo.”

The most defeating part was that everything unfolded just as Ji-won had claimed.

The unconnected individuals, destined to die namelessly in the Void as ordinary people, truly became Awakeners.

When she obeyed her godmother’s orders as an “assistant,” her peers also began Awakening one by one.

Ji-won was right.

The godmother was never wrong.

Pain was the essence, and suffering was a blessing. But if that was true, then wasn’t a world that affirmed such suffering fundamentally wrong?

“You will undoubtedly become a far more human human than I ever could.”

A swamp pooled in the world’s most secluded corner.

Only then did Ji-soo realize that the water at the swamp’s deepest point burned like molten lava.

When the investigation concluded, Ji-won was given her final sentence: lifetime membership in the prisoner squad.

“So, basically, they want you to fight and die.”

“Hmph. I’m confident I won’t die, at least.”

The squad she joined was named the 703 Punishment Unit.

I, the Undertaker, had personally chosen the name. It wasn’t for any grand reason—it simply referenced the events of the 703rd cycle.

“Fine. It’s not like your crimes can be atoned for by quietly dying. I’ll make sure you never die.”

“It’s an honor of a lifetime, Your Excellency.”

“At least pretendto feel sorry.”

“My apologies, but I resolved long ago to always be sincere in heart when before Your Excellency.”

Naturally, I also joined the 703 Unit. After all, I was the one who had decided to take in a serial killer as a comrade. It wasn’t just Ji-won either. Even Ha-yul, who had murdered her own father, was accepted.

I could never separate myself from the actions of my comrades, nor did I wish to.

“I mean, isn’t hunting Anomalies your daily routine anyway? Whether it’s the prisoner squad or the punishment squad, it’s all the same work, right?”

Do-hwa’s exasperated comment was not entirely wrong. For a regressor, death was never the ultimate punishment. Taking responsibility through life was the only option.

Ha-yul immediately joined the 703 Unit. Given her infamous patricide, no one could argue against her inclusion.

Approved.

“Me too, mister!”

“No, Dok-seo, you don’t even have a crime to your name.”

“Mmm... Habitual negligence causing suffering to readers?”

“If you know that, write your damn novel!”

“Ugh, I was trying to join to help you, and this is how you treat me?! Fine! If you don’t let me in, I’ll start stabbing random people!”

When Dok-seo threatened to commit actual crimes, we had no choice but to accept her into the 703 Punishment Unit. Also, before retiring, Do-hwa falsified documents to assign Dok-seo a plethora of heinous charges.

Approved.

“Can you believe Dok-seo was actually a middle manager abducting civilians under Ji-won’s orders? Shocking. Disappointing.”

“I didn’t ask for such detailed charges, dammit... Fine.”

That day, readers on SG Net received an unprecedented announcement:

[Due to the author’s involvement in serious crimes, the series will be indefinitely suspended.]

Readers wailed.

And so, Ji-won, myself, Ha-yul, Dok-seo—as well as a handful of other serious offenders whose numbers fluctuated because of frequent deaths—formed the 703 Punishment Unit. We were deployed only to the harshest, most dangerous frontlines. Without me, survival would have been impossible.

We could not stay in Busan, nor could we enter Sejong or Pyongyang. As prisoners, we camped in temporary barracks near battlefields, constantly moving from one war zone to another.

Sometimes, Yo-hwa or Seo-rin would secretly visit, the latter of whom one day brought someone to introduce herself along with her.

“Undertaker, we have a new recruit.”

“Hmm? We haven’t lost anyone recently, so no need for replacements.”

“No, it’s not a replacement. It’s an actual recruit. They committed a serious crime and specifically requested to join this unit.”

The circumstances of it all left me somewhat out of touch with the 160 survivors of the Misfortune Workshop.

“This is Ji-soo... You two aren’t strangers, right? I’d love to chat longer, but I’m swamped with work. Next time, let’s meet closer to Busan.”

“Sure... Take care.”

“You too.”

After Seo-rin left, an unsettling silence settled over the open space of the barracks.

Ji-soo looked at me. Malnourished and shrunken from extreme stress, her small frame seemed fragile. Jet-black hair. Eyes a faint, hazy shade of dark green.

“Hello. My name is Ji-soo.”

The moment she spoke, a chill ran down my spine. Her tone, pitch, and inflection—everything echoed Ji-won. The only outward difference was her more expressive face. Yet beyond her dark green eyes, rage seethed like molten lava. Her neutral voice and emotional expressions clashed unnervingly.

“When you rescued us from the workshop last time, we met. Do you remember?”

“I remember... Of course.”

“Thank you so much for that. I want to express my gratitude again, Undertaker.”

She bowed deeply then, her posture impeccable. Just like Ji-won.

“The investigator kept us updated about how we were rescued from the workshop.”

“I see...”

“Even though you recommended her, you still revealed her crimes and took responsibility yourself. I think that’s amazing... I truly respect you. I don’t have a father, but may I call you my godfather?”

Ji-soo smiled awkwardly.

Frankly, it was hard to listen to, and not just because of my guilt. Her voice carried something else—something more sinister. Between words, between sentences, between paragraphs, it felt like molten wax dripping down, solidifying into the form of “hate”.

Yes. The girl in front of me was merely imitating human speech. Every sentence was fundamentally just an echo of emotion.

“A new life...”

“Pardon?”

“Didn’t you receive a new life? The National Road Management Corps took special care of you—housing, even a job.”

“Ah, yes.” Ji-soo gave me another awkward smile as she scratched her cheek. “The investigator really went above and beyond. But there was no proper way for me to meet Godmother Ji-won.”

Justly so. There was no way the perpetrator would be allowed to approach the victim. The 703 Unit existed specifically to prevent such contact.

“So, I killed them.”

“What?”

“I killed about seven people. Only then did they arrest me.”

I didn’t respond to that.

“I’m sorry to the victims, but I really needed to see Godmother. I couldn’t think of another way.”

At that moment, Ji-won emerged from the barracks, pulling back the tent flap.

“Your Excellency, the rice is ready. But we’re running low on supplies... Oh?” Then, her gaze shifted to the newcomer. “Ji-soo?”

Ji-won’s tone was casual, as if greeting an old friend.

“It really is you, Ji-soo. What brings you here?”

“Hello, Godmother. I’ve joined the 703 Punishment Unit.”

“Is that so? Hmm, Do-hwa was always thorough. She wouldn’t have approved your transfer easily.” Ji-won tilted her head, holding the rice pot. “How many did you kill?”

“Seven.”

“I see,” she said. Her tone sounded almost regretful. “You could have chosen a more efficient method. Anger is like a blade. when swung recklessly, it becomes mere venting, not skillful precision. I’ve always emphasized the importance of self-discipline.”

No answer.

“It’s good that you hate the world. But ordinary people have no connection to your suffering. Ji-soo, you knew this, but you succumbed to your emotions. Please, discipline yourself.”

Ji-soo’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t changed at all, Godmother.”

“Hmm? Of course not.”

“Thank you.”

Ji-won tilted her head again. “My principles come entirely from within me. I see no reason to be thanked.”

“Because I was worried. What if, by some slim chance, you had changed? It would have been troubling. I’m glad my worries were unfounded.”

Ji-won’s shoulders flinched just slightly. “Hmm.”

Still holding the rice pot in one hand, she touched her neck. Then she looked at me.

“Your Excellency, my neck was just slashed... More precisely, I felt the sensation of my neck being slashed. Ah, and my wrist was severed as well. I almost dropped the rice pot.”

That was the day our unit gained a new member.

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