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

Reader I

After that rather serious discussion, it was time to lighten up the mood again.

In the very early stages of my regression, that is, before the 20th cycle, I had been excessively serious. I had believed that if I could just stay focused and put in enough effort, I could surely save the world.

I don't intend to disparage that effort, but it was somewhat arrogant. Who was I to treat the world's weight as equal to my own?

Infinite regression? It’s just an awakened ability.

People should know how to let go of themselves. The weight released leaves room for others.

In any case, my way of letting go was through 'hobbies.'

I guarantee that there are no other regressors with as many diverse hobbies as I have.

Managing mental health is the most important thing in a regressor's life, and hobbies are like housekeepers that keep one's mental home clean.

A regressor's mental landscape is an extravagant palace spanning thousands of square feet. Naturally, the number of maids needed for this 'cleaning' must also be considerable.

If I were to list the maids I’ve hired, or rather, my hobbies, they would be as follows:

[Games, exploring SG Net, barista work, weightlifting, bullying fairies, harassing Seo Gyu, cooking, walking, listening to music, playing music, stealing Dang Seo-rin's pointed hat and hiding it under the bed, guitar, harassing Seo Gyu, violin, piano, painting, sculpting, ceramics, radio collecting, stealing and listening to Old Man Scho's phone recordings, managing a ranch, harassing Seo Gyu, choosing any job and living as it...]

But I won’t mention all those maids one by one. There's nothing as tedious as babbling about a hobby that others can't relate to.

So, today’s chosen maid is ‘reading.’

And specifically, ‘reading web novels.’

I originally didn’t know about web novels.

As a child, I only read a few martial arts novels. It wasn’t until around the 555th cycle that I came to know web novels.

It was through a person I met in the 555th cycle that I was introduced to web novels.

This person was an Awakener named Oh Dok-seo. I'll have the chance to talk more about them in the next episode.

For now, it's only important that I found a new hobby and became happier because of it.

The best part about web novels was that each work had a lot of content. They say reading nourishes the mind, and I'm someone who values quantity over quality when eating.

At least in the restaurant of web novels, it seemed I wouldn’t have to worry about running out of food.

Of course, that was a damned illusion.

"No more novels… to read?"

I was shocked.

I had only managed to enjoy this feast until the 556th cycle. In just one or two cycles, all the fodder available to me was depleted. In reality, web novels were a relatively new phenomenon and had a surprisingly limited number of works.

"Uh, hmm. Should I start diving into other genres…?"

A thirsty person doesn’t choose their well.

Though I only started with fantasy novels, I quickly consumed academy novels, horror stories, romance fantasy, martial arts, isekai, professional stories, parodies, TS (gender-swap), yuri, and more. If it was written in King Sejong's invented script, I devoured it. Eventually, even English and Japanese novels weren't off limits.

A whole new world opened up.

I was happy.

The 558th cycle ended.

The new world was destroyed.

"No more novels… to read?"

I was once again shocked.

I had thoroughly scraped the bottom of the barrel, leaving nothing left to consume.

I wasn't picky.

I gladly consumed postmodernist novels that daringly replaced double quotes (“”) with reverse-double quotes (”“).

I enjoyed minimalist masterpieces that omitted periods inside quotation marks and classics by new-generation phonologists who tried to express character voices with tildes (~) or silence with ellipses (...).

I even read satires where an original character not in the source material appeared, hoarded all the protagonist's fortuitous encounters for themselves, and then sneered at the protagonist, criticizing their weakness compared to the original. It was a biting critique of modern selfishness.

I also read the work of a plague researcher where every character laughed in 'Ho-ho,' so they all contracted 'Ho-ho Syndrome.'

In other words,

"Hum~ How strange.. was the protagonist always this weak? Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Even bizarre scriptures like that became my daily bread.

Ah――

From now on, call me the Diver of the Web Novel world, not the Undertaker. Because it’s the truth.

This was my bottom, my abyss, my Mariana Trench. If I went any deeper, I couldn’t even breathe, let alone find anything to eat.

Even as a regressor with a lot of experience, this was a hellscape where survival wasn’t guaranteed!

So I could confidently say,

"No more novels… exist."

Many other readers will eventually face this same situation.

When this happens, there are usually two paths a reader can take: decide to take a break from web novels or become an author and make the content themselves.

By chance, I wasn't an 'ordinary' reader.

I was an infinite regressor.

Regressors have a third path.

"I’ll have to kidnap all the writers and turn them into machines that spit out stories."

I puffed out my chest.

A path no one had taken.

But a path every reader has dreamt of.

Towards that path, I, the Undertaker, stepped forward with confidence.

Over one cycle, I gathered personal information and profiles of web novel authors, and at the start of the next cycle, I traveled the country, collecting authors.

Of course, since authors aren’t fantastical creatures that could be captured by throwing red-and-white balls at them, it required painstaking effort to gather them into the collection.

Those sensitive to the author's sensibilities might object, “Isn’t that kidnapping, not collecting?”

But around the 560th cycle, I was quite strong. Compared to surviving in this harsh world, wouldn’t it be happier for them to be bred under my protection as a regressor?

I eventually succeeded in gathering over 300 authors, becoming a master of writer-mon. The authors probably had no idea who brought them here, why, or where they were taken.

"Where is this place?"

"Hey... maybe..."

"Aren't you PenmanshipBully? Isn't that you?"

"Oh, I knew it. You're WritingSlave. We briefly met at that wedding, right?"

"YuriMeddler! You're here too!"

"Gasp, HaremRomance Bro!"

Murmur murmur-

Gathering hundreds of authors in a hotel lobby, some began recognizing each other. They couldn’t hide their fear but tried to make sense of the situation.

"Why were we brought here?"

"Did anyone hear an explanation?"

"Sorry, I just fainted, and when I woke up, I was here… I've been here for three days already."

"Three days?"

"Oh, I've been here for four."

"Wow, that must have been tough."

"Huh? No, they served us nutritious food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the accommodations were comfortable, and I didn’t have to write daily, so it was great."

"…?"

"…?"

It was about time I explained.

"Ah, ah. Can you hear me-?"

I grabbed the microphone and stood atop the check-in counter. Hundreds of eyes turned towards me.

In truth, I only used amplification magic to project my voice, and the microphone was just decoration. Still, I felt it necessary to show courtesy in front of the esteemed authors.

These 335 people, confined in this hotel, were carefully and meticulously selected talents. Regardless of genre, age, or gender, only the writers who had made my heart race even once were brought here.

"Greetings. I am an Awakener known as the Undertaker. As some of you might have guessed, all of you gathered here are authors in the web novel industry."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"Only authors?"

"Where is this place?"

"If it's only authors here, this must be hell."

"Who’s that person holding the mic?"

I spoke seriously.

"As I said, I am the Undertaker. This place is a hotel near Incheon. All the staff fled after trouble erupted in Seoul, but don't worry. I have already hired new staff, and they are all highly trained professionals."

I pointed to the other side of the lobby.

Twenty fairies wearing Che Guevara T-shirts saluted. I returned the salute.

At one point, I had been hostile towards fairies, but by the 560th cycle, I had established an amicable relationship with the [Fairy Revolution Club]. I knew their true identity well.

"So, please be at ease given the circumstances."

"What the hell! Fairies?!"

"Kyaaaah! Help!"

The authors weren’t particularly reassured.

A bit of commotion ensued, but it was subdued without issue. Ninety-nine percent of the authors were far too insignificant in the physical world to cause a stir.

I took up the microphone again.

"Ah, ah. Mic test. Unfortunately, you cannot escape. The main entrance of the hotel is sealed. The windows of each room allow a view but can’t be crossed. Just like our lives."

"Let us go!"

"You cannot escape. Highly trained fairy revolutionaries will monitor you 24/7."

"Crazy…."

"Who is this person? I’m scared…."

"Everyone, let me ask you this first. Even if you could escape, do you really intend to leave here?"

A question mark seemed to hover over the authors' heads. I would clear their doubts right away.

"You may have heard from the news, but the world is thoroughly collapsing. Monsters have appeared worldwide, and gates are opening. That’s right. You’re completely fucked."

"Uh…"

"Even your livelihoods, the web novel platforms, are hard to access now. And even if you could access them, your readers can’t buy your stories because the banking system is collapsing. Soon, the internet network will also start cutting out. In this situation, your writing skills are useless."

The truth resonates.

The authors’ faces turned visibly pale. Many of them had started writing with the mindset of "What? I can just write alone and make money? Sweet." That sweetness was now gone.

"And even if you keep writing, it’s still a problem. From now on, readers of your stories have a 0.06% chance of encountering the [Isekai Truck]. In this era, your novels are as good as weapons."

"Isekai Truck…?"

"Is he a lunatic or something?"

The authors murmured amongst themselves, thinking I was talking nonsense.

Well, no, the 'Isekai Truck' was very real. It was a strange phenomenon first discovered in the 119th cycle, and its sightings rapidly increased from then on.

Still, no matter how many trucks came barreling towards us, the protective barrier I set around this hotel would hold strong, so it wasn't a concern.

"Then… why did you bring us here?"

"Because I’m a passionate fan of all of yours."

I pointed to an author sitting in the front row.

"You there."

"Y-yes?"

"You're BadEndingLover, aren't you? Always writing yuri novels on NovelCampus."

The author I singled out looked stunned.

"H-how do you… know me?"

"Didn’t I just say I’m a fan?"

"Well, uh, I appreciate the compliment, but… you couldn’t possibly have read my work… My most popular novel only has 2,000 favorites, and the latest chapter barely gets 100 views…"

"In your first work, the protagonist faced all sorts of misfortunes, a truly tragic story. But from your next piece onward, you started to incorporate elements of no-romance, eventually mastering the balance between tragedy and no-romance. Granted, in the later stages of your stories, secondary characters suddenly overtake the plot and pair up with the protagonist, giving the story a pure love ending, but even that ruggedness is part of your charm, BadEndingLover."

"You really did read my stuff…?"

The authors were astonished.

I proceeded to call out more.

"RighteousHeavenlyDemonMartial. In an age where the term 'Heavenly Demon' has been trivialized into a joke, your tales of righteousness and honor in traditional martial arts always stir my heart."

"NureongiBapsang. You’re always trying new things in a romance fantasy market that's been running dry."

"MarlovHorseLover. I know how much you contributed to expanding the 'stand-in' genre, which was considered niche. Your story about a protagonist born as a Hungarian noble during World War I, becoming the last cavalry commander and being hailed as a loyal servant of the House of Habsburg is exceptionally rare, and yet it doesn't sacrifice entertainment."

After listing about thirty authors, the ones I mentioned looked deeply moved, though their faces also flushed slightly each time their pen names were called. At any rate, no one in the hotel lobby doubted my sincerity anymore.

"Wait a minute."

But the suspicions started to take a different direction.

The authors whispered amongst themselves. Their voices were as faint as mosquitoes, but my enhanced hearing caught every word.

"So this reader reads yuri, TS, pure love, harem, traditional martial arts, fusion martial arts, tragedy, light tragedy, and even those genres we can't mention for various reasons…?"

"Eek, a monster…!"

"Oh my gosh, what a glutton!"

"He's not Kim Dokja but Kim Nureongi*…."

*Nureongi is the primary dog breed raised in Korea for meat. 

Ah, these authors are slandering a valuable reader.

As a regressor, I just avoided snacking for my mental health. My tastes were quite healthy.

"I’d like to express my appreciation to all of you, but due to time constraints, I’ll skip it today."

"‘Today’…?"

"Moreover, I’m sure some of you don’t want your genre publicly revealed."

Several authors flinched.

"I’ll reach out to you privately sometime. Anyway, authors, please think carefully. Yes, I did kidnap you and imprison you here, but the world outside is dangerous. Can you survive out there in a world that's falling apart?"

The lobby fell silent.

In cycles where I hadn’t brought them, half of these authors didn’t last six months. The rest didn’t survive past a year. Only two managed to live relatively long.

"Here, you won’t have to worry about survival. I’ll provide everything you need—food, clothing, and shelter. Even those fairies you fear are just employees at this hotel. Your only job is to write novels."

"……."

"You can continue your current series or start a new one. Just write. In return, I’ll give you everything else."

The authors murmured at that.

"He’s not wrong. It really seems like the country is doomed."

"I was planning to flee abroad, but hearing it's no different there, I gave up. Besides, communication would be difficult…"

"They serve buffet meals here every day. It’s not bad."

"Thinking about those who couldn’t come here, maybe we’re the lucky ones…"

"Right. What happened to the other authors?"

The atmosphere took a positive turn.

Then, someone muttered to themselves,

"Isn’t this just a damn canning factory…?"

Well, some were quick-witted, but the majority had already made up their minds.

That day marked the beginning of filming for this group stay misery with 335 authors.

Footnotes:

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