WeTried Translations

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Editor: LiteraryGirl

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

Chapter 295

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The Exile VI

There is an age-old question.

Q: What does it feel like to accompany a regressor?

I had shared a timeline with Old Man Scho in my younger years, of course—though honestly, from my perspective, anything around the 20th cycle is akin to infancy—but that didn’t get at the heart of what I really wanted to ask.

Q: What does it feel like for a non-regressor to accompany a regressor?

“Hmm. It feels absolutely shitty...”

A1: Do-hwa’s answer sheet.

“You only get one life to live. Or at least, we’re only conscious of the one life we currently have. On that premise and that foundation, we sculpt our existence. A regressor is simultaneously a bottomless pit of hell and a lone cloud in the heavens. It’s unfair...”

“Um, I don’t really have negative feelings about it.”

A2: Yo-hwa’s answer sheet.

“Actually, I enjoy it! Why? Because as we live, we go through mistakes and misfortunes, right? Like suddenly getting hit by a car while crossing the street or being ambushed by an unforeseen Anomaly. Losing someone dear to you—that’s a super sorrowful experience, isn’t it? But with you, Teacher, I don’t have to say goodbye, hehehe! I think it’s a blessing, not only for you but also for me!”

“Huh? It’s totally fun.”

A3: Dok-seo’s answer sheet.

“The world has a protagonist, and I happen to be by their side? Tu-du-dum-dum-dum. I’ve been waiting for an Awakener like you for a long time...”

“Regression doesn’t matter.”

A4: The Saintess’s answer sheet.

“No, abilities never matter. What matters is the person, who the regressor is. What kind of person became the regressor. The fact that I’m accompanying a regressor doesn’t hold much significance to me. What matters is simply that I’m with someone like you, Mr. Undertaker.”

“Uh..."

A5: Ah-ryeon’s answer sheet.

“Guild Leader, my SG Net password... You didn’t, um, learn it from a previous cycle or something, did you?”

Since she had at least 17 passwords, I didn’t bother reacting.

Don’t you have all your IDs and passwords written on a note stuffed in your inner pocket? Pass.

[Answer declined.]

A6: Ha-yul’s answer sheet.

[It’s an old habit of yours to try and read others’ minds this way, oppa. Everyone thinks they won’t fall for such cheap tricks, but I know secrets are only beautiful when they remain secrets.]

Hanging out with Dok-seo daily must have rubbed off some of that teenage edginess. Pass.

As for Ji-won’s answer sheet, there was no need to even look. I could already predict what she’d say. Something along the lines of "the glory of three lifetimes," "loyalty," "my light," embellished with a four-verse ode to the regressor’s magnificence.

Now was the time to bring Ji-soo, the girl Ji-won considered her daughter, into the regressor’s timeline.

I had to ask this wounded marsh a question.

Q: What exactly does your wish to replace Yu Ji-won mean?

“I want to become as capable as Godmother Yu.”

That was Ji-soo’s answer.

“No, more specifically—I will become as capable as the godmother. If she was valued for her fluency in Latin, then I’ll learn Latin to replace her. Aura, administrative skills, everything. And someday, I’ll take away everything the godmother holds dear—even her position as your lieutenant.”

Because Ji-soo knew: that’s the only way to wound someone like Ji-won.

Q: Think it over. From the perspective of your next self, this means having your life’s direction suddenly decided by a previous cycle’s version of you. Will your future self accept this?

“If my next self doesn’t accept it, then that’s the end. It would mean my grudge, my pain, and my wounds, this blazing heart, were only worth a single lifetime’s existence.

Thus, she concluded that if her next self ignores her wishes, then I would not need to care about her anymore.

Suddenly, a memory resurfaced.

A long time ago, someone who learned I was a regressor approached me. She was a beautiful woman with silver hair. Upon discovering that a regressor existed in a doomed world, she began enjoying life as if she had already given up.

Are you satisfied now?I would ask. Are you happy?

Each time, the silver-haired woman would answer like this:

"Hmm."

"In the next cycle, won’t I be a little happier?"

"I think I’ll be a bit happier next time."

It seemed absurd.

She entrusted her happiness and the meaning of her life to her future self.

Hundreds of cycles passed, and now, the so-called foster daughter she claimed to have birthed in her heart was standing in front of me and giving a remarkably similar answer.

“I will entrust my resolve, my decisions, my pain, and my happiness to my next self.”

I nodded.

So be it.

“Thank you, Undertaker. Truly.”

A week later, at dawn, Ji-soo took her own life.

Thus began the 704th cycle.

At Busan Station’s tutorial dungeon, I bought a can of Ceylon tea from a vending machine, as usual. Then I headed to a cafe decorated with Old Man Scho’s corpse and drank a café au lait.

‘Good.’

I cleared my mind.

The act of drinking has long been one of humanity’s most fundamental rituals, and I was no exception. I relied on this ritual.

Factory-made drinks symbolized the abundance of a fallen civilization, while handcrafted coffee reflected the regressor’s fate. With these two disinfectants, I cleansed the soot of my heart left by the previous cycle.

‘Let’s begin again.’

Reuniting with Dok-seo and Ah-ryeon. Recruiting the Saintess. Meeting Seo-rin. Enlisting Do-hwa. Farming with my sword Do-hwa. Rescuing Yo-hwa. Adopting Ha-yul.

These were predetermined steps—an optimized route. The most efficient event triggers.

‘I won’t meet Ji-won just yet.’

However, the 704th cycle brought with it a deviation.

Normally, this would be the point where I picked up Ji-won, who acted as the gatekeeper at a convenience store, but I decided to delay that encounter.

There was someone else I needed to meet first.

I arrived at the location hinted at by my regression knowledge and promises.

The moment I stepped in, the faint sound of a girl screaming filled the air.

“Aaaaah!”

It was a student in a gray uniform. She was screaming as a zombie—one of the weakest of the Anomalies known as the Hollow—chased her. It was a low-level monster that seasoned Awakeners could handle without effort, but in these early days of the apocalypse, it was a nightmare to face.

The zombie had a teacher’s shoulder in its jaws. The teacher screamed in agony.

“R-run! Kids, r-run! I’ll— I’ll hold it off!”

“Teacher!”

“Run!”

A truly noble teacher.

Some students scattered, their faces pale with terror. Five remained, among them one conspicuously resolute girl.

Kim Ji-soo.

“I’ll strike first, sunbae.”

While the others appeared ready to flee, Ji-soo held them back.

“I’ll draw its attention. Use that chance to save the teacher.”

“U-uh, o-okay.”

Armed with a golf club she had somehow acquired, Ji-soo charged the zombie head-on. Not sneaking, but openly and boldly, she swung at the back of its head.

I let out a small laugh. “Heh. No wonder she caught Ji-won’s eye.”

While not exactly brave, she was audacious.

- Urgh?

The zombie turned, revealing a face 70% decomposed and crawling with maggots. Even without eyes, its nostrils flared grotesquely.

Ji-soo showed no hesitation.

“Idiot.”

Wham!

The golf club connected, caving in part of the zombie’s skull. But instead of collapsing, it lunged at her.

“Now, sunbae! Go!”

“Ah, y-yes! Teacher! Are you okay?”

While the students rescued the teacher, Ji-soo lured the zombie away, her movements intelligent despite her lack of speed. She led it through a barricade of debris, slowing it down.

‘Impressive.’

For a normal person without power or knowledge, her tactics were exceptional.

‘But she lacks experience.’

Ji-soo’s efforts ultimately doomed her group. The teacher turned into a zombie far too quickly, and her surviving classmates, courageous enough to stay and help, were killed.

It was a textbook bad ending.

Ji-soo’s determination to repay the teacher’s kindness by saving her ultimately led to disaster. She tried to rescue her classmates, even berating them for attempting to flee.

The result? Damnation.

Her struggles were a quagmire. The harder she fought, the deeper she sank. Yet, it was this very trait that made her catch Ji-won’s eye.

I stepped forward.

Three strides brought me before the transformed teacher. One clean slice split the zombie in two.

“Huh?”

The students stared in shock as I appeared and dispatched the Anomaly.

“I’m an agent from a secret government organization.”

“H-huh?”

“I belong to the National Intelligence Service’s Disaster Division—a civil servant of the governmental state. I recommend evacuating toward Busan immediately.”

Relieved to hear buzzwords like “government” and “state,” the students nodded. Twenty minutes later, a sweat-drenched Ji-soo returned.

Her gray coat was missing, likely thrown away to distract the zombie with her scent.

‘Smart.’

Though visibly exhausted, she had outmaneuvered the Anomaly using only her wits and endurance.

“Ji-soo.”

When she saw me, she froze. Her eyes locked on the divided corpse of her teacher. As her classmates tried to explain, she silently walked over to me and bowed deeply.

“You saved them. Thank you.”

The voice carried no hint of Ji-won’s cold, emotionless tone. Instead, the voice that called to me was her own.

“My name is Kim Ji-soo.”

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