The Tales of an Infinite Regressor

[Translator - Jjescus]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 191

──────

Patriot IV

6

Jo Youngsoo’s Cross-Country Trek!

From Busan to Pyongyang!

I'll show you something spectacular!

…Although this ad never actually appeared, the shock I felt was just as great.

Not only for the Awakened but also for ordinary people—conducting a survey that gathered "the opinions of the entire Korean Peninsula." What an ambitious plan this was.

And Jo Youngsoo's grand project ended like this:

[Jo Youngsoo died in Yecheon.]

He couldn't even make it out of North Gyeongsang Province, let alone reach Pyongyang.

When I heard the report from the Saintess, I sighed.

“In a way, it did end spectacularly…”

[Sorry?]

“It's nothing. Just talking to myself. So, what was the cause of death?”

[Oh, he got lost in the void and died of exposure. When you're walking near the Nakdong River, sometimes you end up in the void called the Hwangsan River.]

The Hwangsan River was the name for the Nakdong River during the Silla Dynasty.

However, the anomalies interpreted this Hwangsan as Hwangsan, meaning sulfuric acid, H₂SO₄—a highly acidic substance. The entire river became a biochemical hazard.

Literally, if you misstep, you're off to the afterlife, so caution was necessary.

[He wandered for three days before building a raft to cross, but it melted before he could get very far. Jo Youngsoo himself too.]

“Is this for real…?”

Anyway, Jo Youngsoo died. Crudely put, it was a dog's death.

But the citizens, upon hearing of his death, were neither shocked nor saddened. Rather, it was the opposite.

"Did you hear? That crazy guy died. The one who was always protesting at the Tower of Babel Plaza."

"What? How did he die?"

"He left saying he was going to tour the country."

"Oh. Guess he wasn't too attached to life."

The citizens expressed brief condolences and quickly returned to their daily lives.

In short, Jo Youngsoo's death didn't make the news.

It was somewhat ironic considering he'd spent his whole life making news in Busan.

Why did Jo Youngsoo suddenly get obsessed with a nationwide survey? What was his goal? Now, we'll never know.

"Hmm."

If there were no regressors in this world,

"I’m a bit bothered."

[Sorry?]

“Weren’t you particularly interested in Jo Youngsoo, Saintess? Yet, you just watched him wander in the void for three days?”

[I have to distinguish between public and private matters.]

The Saintess responded calmly.

[Although I was personally interested in Jo Youngsoo’s activities, I couldn't use my powers to help him.]

“Really? Didn't you intentionally lead me to be interested in Jo Youngsoo?”

[…]

“If so, you've succeeded, Saintess. Now, I'm also curious about that old man.”

What was Jo Youngsoo trying to achieve, even at the cost of his life?

I became a bit curious.

And as a person, once I got curious, I was like that elf wizard who couldn't resist sticking his head into a mimic chest—I was a willing slave to dopamine.

Thus, in the next turn,

I immediately changed my approach toward Jo Youngsoo.

"Sir, let me seat you here."

"Oooooh…."

First, the event of "having a late-night drinking session" at the Haeundae street stall proceeded the same as before.

The 91st public opinion survey—an event that asked anew about the destruction of Korea—also occurred the same way.

The turning point in Jo Youngsoo's route came afterward.

"Mr. Jo!"

"Hmm? Oh, it's Mr. Jang, isn't it!"

The day he was leaving Busan for Changwon, I personally came to see him off this time.

“What brings you here, Mr. Jang?”

“There’s a caravan heading to Changwon today. I also have some business in Mokpo, so I thought I'd travel with the caravan.”

“Really!”

Jo Youngsoo's eyes widened.

“Mr. Jang! I have a favor to ask you!”

“A favor?”

“Yes! I must get to Changwon to continue my survey, but the caravan crew from the Highway Administration is firmly against it! How could an institution run on taxpayer money be so heartless?”

It was only natural. The caravan, already busy transporting supplies, wouldn't want to add more burden.

Jo Youngsoo must have caused a commotion in the last turn and forcibly boarded the caravan.

"Is that so?"

But this time, I had the infamous social genius, Doctor Jang, also known as THE psychopath.

“Hey, crew. Mr. Jo and I have shared drinks a few times. Could you make an exception this once?”

"Of course!"

"If he’s a friend of Doctor Jang, we’ll treat him as a VIP! We apologize for any rudeness!"

“Thanks. I’ll treat you to coffee later when I see you. Oh, by the way, I’m worried that the other crew members might not know about our connection…”

"Don't worry, sir!"

"I'll post it on SGNet so the entire crew knows!"

I glanced back. Jo Youngsoo was standing there with his mouth hanging open.

――Ah, did you see that? This is called 'the power of the protagonist.'

It shows up in other novels all the time, but in my story, it’s like a rare oasis in the desert.

Jo Youngsoo, unintentionally, ended up with a free pass for his journey across the Korean Peninsula, but my influence didn't stop there.

“To conduct your survey thoroughly, you’ll need to visit remote areas where the caravan doesn't go, right? Use this.”

“Uh, Mr. Jang, this is…?”

“It’s a yogurt cart.”

A famous icon of Korea, the 3rd-generation refrigerated electric cart Cold&Cold (CoCo).

As long as it was within South Korea, it could travel anywhere and appear anywhere. Now, Jo Youngsoo was like Guan Yu with his Red Hare.

“Th-thank you. Mr. Jang. How will I ever repay this favor in my lifetime…?”

Jo Youngsoo, who had been struggling in poverty, couldn’t grasp the situation, suddenly overwhelmed by this grand donation.

I smiled softly.

“Don’t think of it as a gift to you personally, but as support for your cause. I’ve always been interested in your public opinion survey.”

“Mr. Jang…!”

Completion of goodwill.

On the way back from parting with Jo Youngsoo in Changwon, the Saintess spoke.

[It's surprising. I thought Doctor Jang wouldn't be interested in things like South Korea or public opinion polls.]

"I wasn't originally. But someone kept subtly asking me to keep an eye on him."

[...? Was there someone like that around you? I couldn't see it with my clairvoyance.]

"I have my privacy too. Anyway, please keep an eye on that guy, and if he gets lost in the void or something, help him out."

[Ah, okay. Got it.]

Naturally, the news spread through the Return Alliance Network that "Doctor Jang seems to be interested in the crazy guy at Babel Tower Square."

One day, Sim Aryeonn, who ruled as the Saintess of the North, came to Inunaki Tunnel and peeked out her head.

"Wow, as expected. The monster of socializing..."

"...?"

"You're pretending not to, but actually, Guild Master, you wanted to be among the top names on the SG Net, right? That's why you keep clinging to me and the old man, trying to socialize..."

"...?"

"I’ll acknowledge you during the early morning shifts when no one’s around, so please don't comment in the morning, afternoon, evening, or night. Using real-world connections to invade the community’s social space... Such an absurd tyranny, I, I can never forgive it..."

"...?"

Leaving her words behind, Sim Aryeonn left quickly with short steps.

What on earth? Sometimes, I was afraid of her mental world.

Anyway, despite her odd behavior (which was very unfortunate), she was the Saintess of the North.

Sim Aryeonn granted Jo Youngsoo the status of a priest of the Eastern Holy Kingdom. This allowed him to freely travel throughout North Korea.

In effect, most of the powers dominating the Korean Peninsula from both the front and the back were supporting Jo Youngsoo as an individual.

'Why are heroes and Saintess obsessed with me, just a lowly streamer?!' With such a light novel-esque development, Jo Youngsoo wandered all over the country.

Time passed.

2,211 days.

From Busan to Sinuiju.

From the south to the north.

That was the time it took for the people still living on the Korean Peninsula to complete a single public opinion poll.

7

[He’s on his way down after finishing the last public opinion poll in Sinuiju. Now.]

"Is he coming back to Busan?"

[Probably.]

During the polling period, which lasted about six years, I never asked the Saintess about the results of the survey.

My interest was solely in Jo Youngsoo as an individual. I had no concern about what people thought of the downfall of South Korea.

What could Jo Youngsoo have been trying to achieve through his six-year journey?

A conviction that the nation still exists in the hearts of the people? The motivation to continue the South Korea revival movement?

[Ah. It seems the destination is different. Jo Youngsoo has found a boat in Pyongyang, but it's not heading to Busan.]

Neither of those guesses was correct.

[He's heading to Seoul.]

Seoul was practically my backyard.

I hurriedly, and nonchalantly, went to the dock and cast my fishing rod. Jo Youngsoo, who had taken a boat from Pyongyang, had no choice but to spot me as soon as he disembarked.

He shouted in surprise.

"Mr. Jang! What are you doing here?"

"Ah, Mr. Jo?"

Jo Youngsoo abandoned his yogurt cart and ran over to embrace me.

A reunion after six years. Jo Youngsoo smelled strongly of grass and the dry scent of sunlight.

"My goodness! Mr. Jang, how is it that you look exactly the same even after all these years!"

"Haha. You still have a resonant voice, Mr. Jo."

"A Korean man must have spirit, mustn't he? Spirit! What brings you here, though?"

"I was enjoying some fishing. My Seoul hideout is nearby."

"Wow! Fishing in times like these..."

The admiration and goodwill in Jo Youngsoo's eyes deepened.

[Translator - Jjescus]

[Proofreader - Gun]

He had aged considerably. Depending on who was looking, one might mistake him for being in his late 80s.

He had traveled all over the country with a frail awakened body. Even with fervent donations, it couldn't have been easy.

"What brings you to the Han River, Mr. Jo?"

"Ah! Thanks to your support, Mr. Jang, I finally finished the public opinion poll!"

Thump, thump. Jo Youngsoo tapped his cart.

It was piled high with discarded paper instead of yogurt.

"Now, I plan to take this thing to its final resting place!"

"The final resting place...?"

"Yes! To the place where the people who made this country like this are gathered!"

Jo Youngsoo pointed in that direction.

In that direction lay Yeouido, and in Yeouido, there was a domed building that no South Korean could fail to recognize.

The National Assembly building.

"Oh..."

I stammered for a moment before continuing.

"Mr. Jo. That looks like the National Assembly building, but it's actually Void inside. When the white night of Void descended upon Seoul, all the buildings were destroyed and became ruins, but one day, this building appeared on its own. There's even a real robot underground beneath that dome."

"Eh? I don’t know about that! Anyway, I have to go there!"

Come to think of it, this man had set out on a nationwide tour on foot in a previous turn and enjoyed free diving in the Hwangsan River.

A common-sense warning like "It's dangerous because it's Void" wouldn't work on him.

After all, this was a man who should have died, but I had forcibly kept him alive through metaphorical CPR in this turn.

"Then I'll accompany you."

"Oh my! I feel bad for troubling you..."

"It's okay, it's okay. I was just wasting time fishing anyway."

"Oh! I'm truly grateful, from beginning to end, Mr. Jang! How did I end up depending on you both at the start and the finish!"

The dock wasn't far from the National Assembly building. Even at the slow speed of Jo Youngsoo's cart, it took only about 30 minutes.

During those 30 minutes, we chatted about this and that. Which neighborhood was the hardest in the public opinion poll? Were there any near-death experiences...?

The conversation gradually went back in time.

Back to when civilization was still intact, and he was the editor of a small local newspaper.

"My family is from the Pungyang Jo clan!"

The timeline of our conversation suddenly arrived at Jo Youngsoo's childhood.

"As you know, Mr. Jang, in the old days, our ancestors ruined Joseon through things like factional politics! Well, there were historians who argued otherwise, but still!"

I nodded.

The Pungyang Jo clan was famous. Along with the Andong Kim clan, they were one of the top two surnames that made people uncomfortable during history classes.

Although both paled in comparison to the Yeoheung Min clan, Jo Youngsoo continued talking.

“Whew! When I read the textbooks as a child, I was utterly shocked!”

“Were you now?”

“Yes! So, as a young boy, I made a vow to myself. How could I live with the shame of being part of the family blamed for the downfall of the nation? Why is my family name synonymous with the fall of the country?”

Jo Youngsoo clenched his fist in the air as if reenacting the past.

“Just you wait! When I grow up, I’ll become a scholar as loyal to the nation as Choi Ikhyun, doing what my ancestors couldn’t! The elders in my family didn’t say anything, but there was a little brat causing a ruckus all on his own.”

A laugh burst from Jo Youngsoo's wrinkled lips.

“So, honestly, my patriotism is rooted in childhood shame and a sense of inferiority. It’s not something I go around proudly boasting about.”

8

As we entered the National Assembly building in Yeouido, as expected, the anomalies attacked. There were no major boss-level anomalies, but plenty of village-level ones.

If I hadn’t been there, Jo Youngsoo would have met his end here.

‘How many times has this man narrowly escaped death now?’

Though I couldn’t help but smile wryly at the thought, I somehow managed to escort Jo Youngsoo to the main hall of the National Assembly building.

“Ah!”

Jo Youngsoo looked around, wide-eyed.

“It hasn’t changed at all! Well, back then, the seats were half-filled with members of parliament.”

“Hm.”

“The nation’s in ruins, yet this place remains perfectly intact. Ha! I guess that’s no different from the old days.”

I didn’t bother to agree. It wasn’t really a conversation directed at me but more like him talking to himself.

Jo Youngsoo, hands clasped behind his back, wandered around the main hall of the National Assembly, examining the nameplates of the members on the tables, occasionally mumbling, “Ah!” or “Right, there was someone like this!”

In this empty place,

Once filled with the aspirations, hopes, dreams, wishes, contempt, anger, ridicule, and hatred of the Korean people.

Thud. Thud.

Jo Youngsoo placed a sheet of paper on each desk.

I enhanced my eyesight and glanced at the contents of the paper.

[Republic of Korea, 91st Public Opinion Survey]

[Question: Do you believe that the Republic of Korea has perished?]

[Yes - 99.99%]

[No - 0.01%]

After distributing the worn-out papers to the desks, Jo Youngsoo climbed to the speaker’s chair.

His gaze seemed to be fixed somewhere in the air, as if he was looking into the past rather than the present.

“Please arrange the seats.”

His voice echoed quietly. Without a microphone, there was no authority in it, just the voice of an ordinary old man, already aged into his late 80s from traveling across the country.

“We have a quorum, so I will call this meeting to order.”

Thud, thud, thud.

The wooden gavel struck the air three times, and in between, Jo Youngsoo coughed.

“As the Speaker of the National Assembly is absent, I, Jo Youngsoo, will preside over this meeting. Currently, there are 33 people who consider themselves citizens of the Republic of Korea, and all of them have entrusted me with the authority to proceed with this session.”

“…….”

“Honorable members of the National Assembly, and fellow citizens, as the acting Speaker of the National Assembly, before presenting the next agenda item, I will provide a report on the current situation.”

Rustle.

Jo Youngsoo flipped the survey paper.

“First, Busan. When asked whether the Republic of Korea has perished, approximately 86% of eligible voters responded. Out of 235,695 respondents, 235,693 selected option 1, ‘Yes, it has perished.’”

The paper turned.

“Next, Changwon. When asked whether the Republic of Korea has perished, approximately 91% of eligible voters responded. All 54,980 respondents chose option 1, ‘Yes, it has perished.’”

The paper turned one by one.

As the worn-out pages fluttered, the named cities moved slowly from the south to the north.

“Finally, Sinuiju. When asked whether the Republic of Korea has perished, approximately 89% of eligible voters responded. All 21,139 respondents chose option 1, ‘Yes, it has perished.’”

It took less than 6 minutes to announce the results of six years of public opinion surveys.

Jo Youngsoo closed the last page of the survey report.

“The survey was conducted among citizens aged five and older. Considering the gravity of the situation, not only citizens aged 18 and older but also those aged five and older were considered eligible voters, as the question pertained to the future of the nation.”

Cough. Jo Youngsoo’s coughing fits became more frequent. He paused briefly to catch his breath before continuing each word clearly.

“A public opinion survey is just that—an opinion survey. However, in a situation where no formal voting is possible, as acting Speaker, I believe this survey serves as a substitute for voting. To support this, I have received authority from the 33 citizens who chose option 2, ‘No, it has not perished.’”

Coughing sounds.

“Therefore, as acting Speaker, I present the agenda concerning the survival of the Republic of Korea. Since the voting results have already been announced, we will proceed with the resolution as is. If anyone has objections, please speak up.”

Coughing sounds.

“Have you all voted? The voting is now closed. I will announce the results. Approximately 88% of eligible voters participated, with 3,125,678 voting for option 1, ‘Yes, it has perished,’ accounting for over 99.99%. Thirty-three voted for option 2, ‘No, it has not perished,’ accounting for less than 0.01%.”

Coughing sounds.

"Therefore, I declare that the Republic of Korea has perished."

Thud, thud, thud.

The sound of the gavel.

At that moment, something strange happened.

From the seats of the members of the National Assembly, now empty, applause erupted, regardless of party affiliation.

The applause also echoed from the empty spectator seats. Between the clapping, the noise of camera flashes went off.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap!

The oddest part was that this sound seemed to reach only me, as Jo Youngsoo did not react at all.

He simply closed his eyes and quietly sat in the speaker's chair.

"……."

Looking at his serene face, I suddenly thought,

Just as an individual needs a funeral when they die, perhaps a nation also needs one.

The old man had endured a six-year mourning period to handle the funeral that I had failed to see.

If that’s the case, then the Republic of Korea died and was laid to rest at that very moment.

9

After that day, Jo Youngsoo never again protested in Babel Tower Plaza, shouting, "Down with the dictator!"

He lived the rest of his days as an ordinary old man, moving between free meal centers and construction sites, and shortly after, he died.

He was already frail, having spent all his energy traveling across the country.

Since he had no close connections, I took charge of the funeral. I set up a small funeral altar in the shanty house where he had lived.

There were few mourners. Only some elderly men who had played baduk with him showed up.

Then, on the last night, Noh Doha appeared unexpectedly, without any aides.

Noh Doha glanced around the shabby shanty house, which was barely more than a tent.

"Is there no yukgaejang (spicy beef soup) here…?"

"How could I afford such an expensive dish?"

"Aren't you filthy rich…?"

"Ahem. I'm conducting this funeral with heart, not money. If we suddenly make the funeral grand, all sorts of random people would show up—would that be in line with the deceased’s wishes?"

"Hmm…."

That was the conversation we had as soon as he arrived at the funeral.

After bowing to the portrait of the deceased (he did not bow to me, the chief mourner), Noh Doha sat down heavily next to me.

"Why did that old man, who always made a fuss with protests, suddenly stop?"

"After finishing the public opinion surveys, he went to the National Assembly in Yeouido and declared that the Republic of Korea had perished."

"Hmm? Ah, I see…."

Noh Doha stroked his chin.

"What will you do with the body…?"

"He was the last representative of a fallen nation. It would be strange if the anomalies weren’t after him. I plan to cremate him and scatter the ashes at sea."

And that’s what happened.

Anomalies were as dangerous to the dead as they were to the living. Without thorough procedures, there was a high risk of violating the "Etiquette to Follow at Funerals: Don’t Suddenly Come Back to Life and Scare the Mourners!"

These days, after scattering the ashes at sea, a simple tombstone would be erected at the site. This was called a haemyo (sea tomb).

"To have the world’s greatest undertaker personally oversee a funeral from start to finish—this is practically a joyous occasion…."

Noh Doha remarked sarcastically as he followed to the end.

On the long stone tombstone of the haemyo, the following words were engraved:

Jo Youngsoo

趙泳洙

Citizen of the Republic of Korea

大韓民國 國民

[TL/N: Author wrote this twice, same words but second ones are in Hanja instead, so leaving it as is.]

Noh Doha shrugged his shoulders.

"After staying up all night yesterday, I’m starving…."

"Shall we go for some yukgaejang?"

"Oh, yukgaejang sounds good…."

There’s no epilogue to this story.

In a way, this entire episode was the epilogue of a country called Korea.

—Patriot. The End.

[Translator - Jjescus]

[Proofreader - Gun]