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

Chapter 279

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

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The Commentator I

Suddenly, it occurred to me that Dok-seo was a chuunibyou.

One might assume someone suffering from a chuunibyou episode would struggle with social skills, but the truth was that this illusion was merely due to her roommate being Ah-ryeon.

Without Ah-ryeon, Dok-seo possessed all the qualities of a clueless social misfit with an extraordinary lack of situational awareness.

“Hey.”

And so, during this rare gathering that included NRMC’s Commander Noh Do-hwa, Yu Ji-won, and the leaders of the two major guilds in the Korean Peninsula—Dang Seo-rin of Samcheon and Cheon Yo-hwa of Baekhwa—for the sake of fostering unity, we sat down for a dinner meeting.

That was when Dok-seo, seated beside me, opened her mouth and said, “Mister.”

“Hm?”

“I’m just curious. If Seo-rin and Yo-hwa were to fight, who would win?”

Clink.

Across the table, the hand of Do-hwa, who had been drinking soju straight from the bottle, froze mid-air. Naturally, Ji-won, who had been eagerly offering to pour her another drink, also stopped in her tracks.

A deathly silence descended upon the room.

Of course, it wasn’t universal death. The other NRMC members and guild members, blissfully intoxicated, continued chatting merrily.

In other words, In this “noisy environment,” only those who could “amplify their hearing with Aura” and “focus through all the surrounding noise” on “the table where Undertaker was seated” fell under the spell of this deathly silence.

Naturally, Seo-rin and Yo-hwa both met these conditions.

“Dok-seo.”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you suddenly want to know something like that?”

Desperately, I tried to pass the conversational baton to Dok-seo.

I had to make it clear that the one asking the question was her, Oh Whatever-her-name-is, and that I, the Undertaker, was entirely uninvolved.

“Eh, it’s nothing big. I’m just curious because they both play the role of mages in your party, don’t they?”@@@@

However, this oblivious social outcast stubbornly continued dragging me into this mess.

Well, I shouldn’t have expected much from a writer who posted an apology on SG Net for skipping a serialization due to “an unavoidable external engagement” only to gleefully show up here for a free meal.

I tried to stay calm. “Right. Both of them are incredibly talented and invaluable to me. They’re comrades, so comparing them isn’t fair.”

“Come on, mister. We all know that. But who’d win in a fight? Keep it simple.”

“...Are you trying to mess with me?”

“Huh? What?”

“Nothing.”

Sweat trickled down the side of my face. Feigning a sip of alcohol, I frantically scribbled invisible words onto the table with my finger.

Saintess.

[Yes?]

Help me.

[How?]

Please distract Seo-rin and Yo-hwa. Get them talking about something else. I beg you.

[I’ll try.]

As expected of the Saintess. Unlike someone else who once declared, “I’m the one who will save you, mister!” only to become an unreliable brat infamous for prolonged absences, she was dependable.

(This is why you should never make bold declarations to a regressor with Complete Memory.)

[Okay, I tried.]

How did it go?

[I won’t say who, but I was told to buzz off.]

My brain rapidly generated options:

A. Mix wine and beer. “Let’s drink them together! Oh, but tomorrow’s hangover might be rough.”

→ My body gets metaphorically blended in a mixer.

B. “Logically, Yo-hwa would never launch a sudden attack. The risks are too high. If it comes down to a fair duel, Seo-rin is more likely to win.”

→ “Oh, mister! If you wanted to wear a sailor uniform that badly, you should’ve just said so...! From now on, you’re my junior.”

C. “Yo-hwa would never engage in a fight she couldn’t win. She’d strike like a snake, exploiting any opening Seo-rin shows. This would naturally mean an ambush, guaranteeing her victory.”

→ “Oh, look! A perfect hat rack for my witch hat. A little dusty, but a broom can fix that. And don’t expect me to sing you a lullaby for your insomnia!”

D. “This is all Do-hwa’s fault.”

→ “What?”

No matter the choice, it led to a bad ending! So this is the wretched life of a regressor!

“Oh, I want to see them have an all-out fight!”

At that moment—

“Not that I’d want mister to get hurt. Let’s make it safe and fair. Oh, look! Mister, speak of the devil, here they come!”

From Dok-seo’s untainted, mildly tipsy gaze and sloppily tilted cap, a flash of inspiration struck me.

It wasn’t Seo-rin’s white magic or Yo-hwa’s black magic. No, it was the gray magic unique to regressors!

I shot to my feet. “Yes! I completely agree, Commander Noh Do-hwa!”

Do-hwa, who had been quietly enjoying the sweetness of her soju with a faint smile, frowned at me. “Huh?”

The sudden sound of my voice startled even the two calamities approaching me, freezing them in their tracks.

“It’s true! A one-off dinner isn’t enough to build solidarity between guilds. What we need is something bigger! Something better!”

“What are you saying, you lunatic?”

Ignoring the octave of danger rising in Do-hwa’s voice, I pressed on. Survival first!

“Sports!”

Everyone in the banquet hall turned to look at me.

Even a flushed Ha-yul reached out her arms, crying, “Daddyyy!” but I ignored her.

“Since ancient times, nothing has brought groups together like sports! Sure, the world is in ruins, and there are no more Olympics or World Cups. But with NRMC’s resources, why not host a grand competition?”

“Wait, are you...”

“A fighting tournament!” Using Aura, I boomed my voice like a lion’s roar. The hall quivered as the Awakened, drunk or not, roared in excitement. “An Awakening tournament! Yes! Let’s settle it there!”

“And the Undertaker won’t compete, leaving the championship open for Seo-rin or Yo-hwa!”

“Shut up! The President will win!”

“Commander Noh Do-hwa! You’re a genius for thinking of this!”

“Do-hwa! Do-hwa!”

Even Ji-won, who had returned, led the chant.

“Fine! Let’s do it!”

Cheers erupted as Seo-rin and Yo-hwa were swept away.

I wiped my brow. Another day, another death flag dodged.

[Impressive as always, Mr. Undertaker.]

“Thanks.”

[What will you call this tournament?]

“How about Awakeners’ World Cup? Shortened to AwakenCup!?”

I could feel the Saintess’s silent disappointment.

What’s wrong with AwakenCup?

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