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

Discord: https://dsc.gg/reapercomics

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

---

──────

The Inheritor I

This might seem like an abrupt question, but have you ever written a will?

Probably not a common experience, I’d wager.

The title of “will holder” wasn’t particularly hard to obtain, but there was no compelling reason to go out of your way to earn it. For some, it might even feel unnecessarily ominous.

“Year-end is will-updating season.”

“Everyone! If there are any parts you need to add or remove, don’t procrastinate out of laziness. Please revise them before the year ends!”

But in an apocalypse where foreboding was practically a passive trait, circumstances were slightly different.

“The cost to store a will is only 10,000 won a year!”

It was the end of the year. White snow had piled up in the square like whipped cream on a cake. Sometimes, however, black or crimson snow would fall, changing the type of this metaphorical “cake” entirely. Amid this surreal scene, the chiming of bells resonated.

When someone mentions the ringing of year-end bells, one might immediately think of the Salvation Army. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case here.

Those dressed in black uniforms, ringing handbells, were members of the National Road Management Corps’ Forbidden Books Department.

“Write your wills! Everyone, write your wills!”

“Sudden deaths, deaths caused by Anomalies, unburied corpses. To prepare for all sorts of deaths, leave behind a will for your loved ones!”

“Please fill out the name, profession, workplace, and residence of the will’s recipient as accurately as possible! Every year, the number of wills that are undeliverable due to incorrect information increases!”

Ding-ding-ding-ding.

As if this world didn’t already lack an ounce of good fortune, the National Road Management Corps was spreading their own brand of cheer: “Hey everyone! You’re all going to die anyway!”

Truly, the pinnacle of festive year-end vibes.

Could anyone really adapt better to this ruined era than the Corps, though? Ordinary people walked past the square, their expressions completely indifferent.

Reflexive defiance of government order had long ago become a staple of Korean culture. Blame the ancestors for that one.

Next to me, Dok-seo lowered her chin. She probably thought she looked serious.

“A will, huh? For a writer like me, such a document is unnecessary. Every literary work I publish serves as my will to the world.”

So was she essentially publishing a will every time she discontinued a serialized novel?

Suddenly, I pictured a scene where heirs of a conglomerate gathered to hear a will reading, only for someone to announce, “Sorry, the chairman stopped writing here and left it incomplete.” The heirs punishing the chairman to posthumous punishment would be understandable, really.

On SG Net, readers constantly inquired about Dok-seo’s parents’ well-being in the comments section, forming legions thousands strong. Nevertheless, she remained unbothered. Her nerves were made of steel, a quality worth admiring.

“By the way, did you write a will too, mister? Well, if a regressor dies, that run’s a failure, but the people left behind still have to survive, right?”

“Of course.”

Would the world reset to the regression point upon my death? Or would it continue and reboot at some later time? This question remained one of the great unsolvable mysteries.

Personally, I leaned toward the latter option.

Why? Even in Go Yuri’s unconscious world, the echoes of Heavenly Flame’s memories lingered—memories of losing the Undertaker and Ha-yul.

“But I don’t write my will as a document.”

“Huh? Then what? Do you record it as a video?”

“No. Videos are too easily corrupted by Anomalies. My wills are made using far safer and more advanced methods.”

“What kind of method?” Dok-seo, ever the writer, asked in a tone brimming with curiosity.

Thus, I brought her back to the hideout to show her.

“Here. Meet your new acquaintance: Will Executor - Undertaker Unit 05: Dok-seo’s Exclusive Model.”

Suddenly, Dok-seo was very quiet.

“Hello, Dok-seo. If you’re hearing this voice, it means I’ve died under certain circumstances.”

Dok-seo stared at the miniature Undertaker doll, identical to me in every detail except its size. She remained silent for a long time before finally speaking.

“Mister...”

“What?”

“You’re a crazy lunatic bastard.”

---

https://dsc.gg/reapercomics

---

As revealed in the previous story, chaos always followed whenever the Saintess met a sudden death during a run. Ji-won, for example, would take her newfound freedom from worrying about appearances and go berserk, establishing a torture factory.

Naturally, this raised a pertinent question:

Q: If this much turmoil occurs when the Saintess dies, what would happen if I were to die in an accident?

This question served as a litmus test to gauge the protagonist’s personality across all regression stories.

A1: Who cares what happens to the world after I die? Let’s hurry up and move to the next run.

Sadly, many regressors chose this answer. These individuals had not a shred of conscience despite making the world so reliant on them that it couldn’t function without them.

Here’s hoping your worldline doesn’t fall prey to such regressors.

A2: If I’ve made others dependent on me, I must take responsibility. Prepare for the worst and devise countermeasures for a hypothetical “world without the regressor.”

As someone with the code name Undertaker and who was known for his responsibility and ethics, I naturally chose the latter answer.

The result? The doll I had just shown Dok-seo.

“So basically, since Ha-yul is good at carving dolls, you had a bunch made to look exactly like you and stored your will in them?”

“Oh, come on, Dok-seo. The doll’s functionality doesn’t stop there. It’s a technological marvel, the culmination of Awakened abilities.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

Undertaker Unit 05 doll’s jaw creaked open.

“Dok-seo, I apologize for always pressuring you to update your serializations. I know Infinite Metagame has sapped your writing motivation.”

The lifelike response from Unit 05 caused Dok-seo’s face to contort. “This is so creepy!”

“Hmph.” I allowed myself a smug smile. “As you can see, the doll has an AI embedded within, modeled after me. Credit goes to Yo-hwa for the programming.”

“So... Yo-hwa used NPC Creation to input behavior patterns into the doll?”

“That’s right. We scavenged anonymous corpses nearby, harvested their brains, and attached them. While complex behaviors are impossible, they can recite pre-programmed lines with ease.”

“Damn...”

“Now, even if I meet an unfortunate end, a substitute will always be by your side, Dok-seo.”

“Well, don’t act all romantic about it! This is too creepy to even keep— No, hold on. Mister, you called this Unit 05?”

I nodded. “Correct. It’s your exclusive model.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve made similar dolls for other people?”

Naturally. It was impossible to divide a human Undertaker among everyone. But doll Undertakers could transcend such limitations.

“One for every household!” I bragged. “Meet Unit 01, the Saintess’s exclusive model.”

“If pretending to be a Constellation becomes too much, let me know anytime. I’ll assist you.”

“This is Unit 02, assigned to Commander Noh Do-hwa.”

“Take a break. You always overwork yourself. Don’t forget to stretch for 10 minutes after every 50 minutes of sitting.”

“Unit 08 belongs to Seo Gyu. In terms of physical performance, it’s the best among all models.”

“One more set! You can push harder! Heavyweights won’t build your body—drop the weight and switch to a drop set, Seo Gyu! Focus on proper form and breathing!”

“And over there are the exclusive models for Seo-rin, Yo-hwa, Ha-yul, and Ah-ryeon.”

“Seriously, what kind of regressor makes dolls for every character like this?” Dok-seo groaned as she surveyed my collection of dolls. “Also, the ones for Ha-yul and Yo-hwa are oddly high-quality...”

“They helped with the manufacturing. Naturally, their models turned out better.”

“That’s just you being biased...”

Dok-seo removed her cap and scratched her head vigorously.

Legend has it that scalp massages can stimulate one’s brain. Perhaps thanks to her overgrown nails, which furrowed trenches into her scalp, Dok-seo’s previously fatigued and contempt-filled eyes sparkled with sudden inspiration.

“Mister! Let’s run an experiment!”

“Experiment?”

“Yeah! You don’t know what the world looks like after your death, which is why you made these substitutes, right?”

“This is not some trivial matter! These dolls are the pinnacle of advanced technology—”

“By directly observing what happens, you could come up with even better countermeasures!”

“...”

Ignoring my silent protest, Dok-seo whispered thus in my ear:

“Let’s fake your death, mister.”

“...”

---

[Everyone.]

[I’m addressing all members of the Regression Alliance at once.]

[Please remain calm and listen carefully.]

[Mr. Undertaker has disappeared.]

[It’s presumed that he is dead.]

I did it.

I pulled the trigger on this grand deception.

---