# Chapter 62
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The Manipulator V
Shin Noah
9
I have a rather long afterword to share.
Originally, my story itself is one long afterword.
To tell the truth, I originally intended to title this memoir something like "The Regressor's Afterword."
"Ha? Old man, are you crazy?"
If that web novel otaku Oh Dok-seo hadn't interfered, I really would have done exactly that.
"Why? Isn't it good?"
"What do you mean good? With a title like that these days, you couldn't even hook the kids who live on the SG net serialized edition."
"Hmm... Then how about 'The Infinite Regressor's Daily Cafe'?"
"What?"
Oh Dok-seo wore the expression of someone who had heard something they shouldn't have heard.
"What did you just say?"
"My hobby is being a barista. Whenever I go to see Old Man Sho's corpse, I make café au lait and drink it. So I thought I'd use the word cafe..."
"Are you seriously crazy? Have you completely lost it?"
I could feel 'sincerity' in Oh Dok-seo's words.
Of course, I knew that an otaku's sincerity doesn't guarantee truth, but surprisingly, this time even 'truth' could be detected.
Hmm. Is that the extent of it...
"How to Fail at Infinite Regression?"
"Next."
"I am a Regressor."
"Next."
"The Regressor Gives Up Salvation."
"Bullshit."
"The Regressor's Epilogue."
"Get lost!"
"Romance of the Regression Kingdom."
"Ah, please! Old man! Come on!"
"...."
For some reason.
Is this a generational gap? No. That can't be right. My aesthetic sensibility, cultivated over thousands of years, had already surpassed human levels and reached the point where I could say "Yo, long time no see" to Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Goethe.
For 20 minutes, I poured out all the title candidates I had thought of, but Oh Dok-seo rejected every single one.
No matter how my persona might be Gautama Siddhartha, this was truly excessive tyranny.
In a fit of anger, I blurted out.
"If you're so great, come up with one yourself."
"Fine! But whatever title I come up with, old man, you absolutely can't interfere! Later, really later, I'm going to read everything you wrote and judge it comprehensively before putting a title on it!"
"Alright. Let's see you try."
"Call!"
"Call."
Thinking back on it now, I shouldn't have made such a foolish promise.
What exactly did I trust about Oh Dok-seo to entrust the naming to?
A 50,000 won cap? Jeans with holes all over? Gum that absolutely can't blow bubbles? I could trust Jeong Sang-guk's patriotism more.
Ultimately, I still don't know what title was given to my story. Just from the fact that I only call it 'the story,' you can probably guess.
What a paradox this is. Unable to call father 'father'... No. That's not it. I don't even know the name itself in the first place. Oedipus, who couldn't recognize his father as his father, would be more appropriate.
I'm not sure how it looks from your perspective. If you are seeing not just my story but also the title, I hope you'll at least know that it's not a title I, the Undertaker, personally came up with.
But let's put that aside.
Let's return to the afterword of the doll master, Lee Ha-yul.
10
Jeong Sang-guk died.
The former Mayor of Busan died. The current Prime Minister of the Republic of Korea's Second Provisional Government died. The Chairman of the Fukuoka Korean Association died. The Representative of Busan died.
No title was appropriate. Jeong Sang-guk didn't die for those reasons.
If I were to add precision to the death certificate considering the cause of death, the following expression would be most suitable for the coffin to cover this death:
Lee Ha-yul's biological father died.
Although I didn't agree with Freudian psychoanalysis, I enjoyed speaking by borrowing the terms that discipline had pioneered.
The child killed the father. But Lee Ha-yul was not Electra. Nor was she Oedipus.
The death of parents was originally not an epilogue for the child, but rather deserved to be called a prologue.
It was a cruel thing.
From now on, I intended to do something cruel.
"Lee Ha-yul."
"Yeah."
Lee Ha-yul answered. Not through Jeong Sang-guk, whose throat had already been severed, but by moving the housekeeper's lips.
"Don't do that."
Lee Ha-yul tilted her head.
"What do you mean? This person is dead. Perception. Can't stop it."
"I wasn't talking about not killing Jeong Sang-guk. I meant don't kill yourself."
"...."
A pause. The red circles in Lee Ha-yul's eyes grew larger.
No separate conversation was needed. Every breath Lee Ha-yul took was language. The girl was bewildered.
"How did you know?"
"If you killed your parent, then you killed them. Why are you trying to follow them in death? You have talent. The talent to kill people and the talent to save people are the same thing. If you have the resolve to kill yourself, turn the blade of that resolve and stab the oddities to death."
"...."
"This world needs awakeners. Humanity's existence is in danger. Korean or Japanese, such distinctions have no meaning. Whether Jeong Sang-guk dies here or not, eventually everyone you've known until now will die at the hands of oddities."
"...."
"Help us. I'll help you so you can do that."
Silence followed. Half of the silence flowed from Jeong Sang-guk's gaping mouth rolling on the concrete floor.
Was it just my imagination? It seemed like all the dolls packed in the basement were looking at me.
"If I follow you?"
"...."
"Can you stop it? The world, destruction."
"No, I can't guarantee that."
"Codename, what did you say? Sorry."
"Undertaker."
"Undertaker."
Though I had introduced myself several times, only then did Lee Ha-yul's brain properly recognize my codename.
Before that, she probably hadn't considered it. A person on the verge of death had no need to remember new encounters.
Lee Ha-yul murmured.
"Ten Clans Subjugation Battle. Swordmaster's comrade."
"That's right."
"Dang Seo-rin's boyfriend."
"That's fake news."
"Really? It's on the radio, every day."
"It's fake news. I can swear on anything. Except for Jeong Sang-guk's patriotism."
"...."
Silence again.
Lee Ha-yul raised her index finger.
"Condition."
"Speak. I'll listen as much as I can."
"Lie. Hate."
"It sounds like you mean I shouldn't act like your father. If that's it, I can promise you that. I'm a non-marriage advocate even with all this."
"...?"
"I have no intention of having children. So I won't become anyone's father. It's a perfect solution to fulfill your condition."
"...."
Lee Ha-yul laughed small.
There was no sound.
That too was an expression I was seeing for the first time.
"I'll follow. You."
11
After the 19th iteration, in countless subsequent iterations, Lee Ha-yul quite frequently became my subordinate.
Even though Old Man Sho went on 'vacation' and Freihheit Academy was effectively closed, that destiny didn't change.
Lee Ha-yul met cruel deaths countless times on the front lines, in the rear, at the hands of oddities.
The only thing I could promise Lee Ha-yul was that I would simply meet a slightly faster, slightly crueler death.
Of course, many things changed.
"Oh. Ha-yul."
"...."
"Want coffee? You like con panna, right?"
"...."
"Yeah. Wait a bit."
I learned sign language first. Now I could understand what she was saying right away even without Lee Ha-yul particularly controlling a doll.
Even now, Lee Ha-yul, who had woken up on the guild hideout sofa, let out a soundless yawn of 'Hwaaaaaam-' and stretched thoroughly.
Rubbing her eyes. Rubbing her eyes.
She looked around with sleepy eyes and found the housekeeper. With a light snap of Lee Ha-yul's finger, the housekeeper doll activated.
"Where's the wheelchair?"
"I left it with Master Noh Do-ha's workshop yesterday."
"Ah."
"Just bear with being a bit uncomfortable today."
"Yeah."
Originally, I had planned to leave her with the Saintess rather than my guild hideout. Both expressionless. Moreover, both shut-ins. Both support-type abilities. Don't they seem similar?
But after briefly living together in the 20th iteration, the Saintess applied for a return.
"Our personalities are too different."
"Excuse me?"
"Miss Lee Ha-yul is... to put it in easy-to-understand terms, an insider."
"Excuse me?"
"She's a different type of human from me. Undertaker-ssi. And please refrain from the assumption that 'they'll get along like sisters' just because they're both rear-support personnel and both have few expressions. Two of my fish tanks broke."
"...."
"I prefer being alone."
Somehow, it seemed I had experienced an MBTI incompatibility with the Saintess for reasons I couldn't guess.
What could I do? Like Sim A-ryeon, Lee Ha-yul became an exclusive member of my guild. Her potential as an awakener was undoubtedly A-grade anyway.
Above all, as seen in 'The Doll's House,' Lee Ha-yul's talent was specialized in building hideouts. Thanks to Ha-yul, I was able to construct an impregnable hideout.
I'll talk about this in another episode later.
12
Lee Ha-yul's daily life like this faced a slight turning point around the 54th iteration.
The 54th iteration was the monumental iteration where I recruited Noh Do-ha as the National Road Management Commander.
In short, it was around this time that Noh Do-ha and I became close.
"Master Noh Do-ha of the workshop. Long time no see. This brown-haired child here went to Japan and came back, but could you possibly make some prosthetic legs?"
"Excuse me, who might you be...?"
"...."
"Just kidding. Undertaker awakener. It's just that I get startled whenever I see your face. Honestly, I get surprised again and again, so please don't enter my field of vision without blinking your lights on unless it's absolutely necessary..."
"...."
"By the way, is there some law that if a Korean goes abroad and comes back, their hospital reservation queue automatically gets shortened? My workshop is insanely busy..."
"Ah."
"I'll make a reservation for you starting now, so please come back in a month. I'm busy today dealing with the neighborhood grandfathers. Anyway, why are the roads in this Busan place so bumpy..."
Hmm. Right. Actually, Noh Do-ha and I weren't close privately.
Originally, there was no human who shared emotional intimacy or friendship with Noh Do-ha. It was because it was me that the reservation was set for a month later; another awakener would have had to wait at least 3 months.
A month later, Noh Do-ha examined Lee Ha-yul.
"Your legs are quite beautifully shattered. Hmm. Not simply torn apart physically, but three curses are overlaid. Incurable with constant poisoning, hallucinatory effects—truly, you've been afflicted quite elaborately. If you don't mind my asking, where did you go to lose both your legs...?"
"Originally didn't have any."
The housekeeper answered. Even though it must have been an unfamiliar experience, Noh Do-ha didn't move a single eyebrow.
"Hmmm. So the curses just happened to attach by coincidence. Well, I've heard rumors that Japan is that kind of place. By any chance, do you experience phantom pains at least once every three days...?"
"That's right. How did you know?"
"There's a way to know. It's terrible. Quite terrible. Hmmm..."
Saying that, Noh Do-ha continuously measured Lee Ha-yul's body length with a tape measure.
What was peculiar was that she even measured the length of Lee Ha-yul's 'non-existent legs' with the tape measure.
"...?"
Lee Ha-yul wore an expression that seemed a bit confused about whether she was being insulted or not.
But Noh Do-ha had absolutely no intention of insulting the other party.
Of course, teasing the other person like a ghost whenever the opportunity arose was Noh Do-ha's vicious nature.
But at least in my entire regression life, I had never once witnessed her mocking a patient.
"Could you try shaking your body with the thought of moving your legs for a moment...?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Very good. Now with the feeling of walking in place. Ah, would you try jumping slightly? Just lifting your buttocks is enough. Hmm. You're doing well..."
In Noh Do-ha's eyes, Lee Ha-yul's legs seemed to truly be visible.
Not just muscles but bones, joints, nerves—everything must have been visible. That kind of 'vision' was included in Noh Do-ha's ability.
The ability Noh Do-ha awakened was [The ability to observe and replace the lost body of another].
Truly a remarkable ability, but it had no separate technique name. It was Noh Do-ha's own will.
No, Noh Do-ha refused to have not just a technique name but even her own codename.
-There's no use in a government lackey making a name for themselves.
That was Noh Do-ha's philosophy.
I was the one who dragged such a person into the position of National Road Management Commander. Me.
Anyway, for this reason, Noh Do-ha's ability was roughly called [Prosthesis Manufacturing]. If it had been called something like [Loss Restoration], it would have been a quite impressive name.
"Yes, measurements are all done..."
Noh Do-ha scrawled some complex numbers in a notebook.
"Making prosthetics usually takes one to two weeks. Is this tall fellow here Lee Ha-yul's guardian...?"
"Yeah."
"Is there a material you prefer between wood and iron...?"
"What's the difference?"
"Wood needs to be replaced more often. So there's the hassle of having to come to our workshop periodically. Iron has a longer replacement cycle, but there may be creaking noises when walking. It also rusts. Many patients find that bothersome."
"...."
"Well, if you bring another material yourself instead of wood or iron, I can work with that. You should think of prosthetics as something you keep for life. You can think about it when you get good materials later. No need to be desperate to get premium materials right away..."
Lee Ha-yul pondered.
I could feel the deliberation of a doll specialist.
"Then iron."
"Do you dislike clockwork springs...?"
"No."
"If you hear the ticking of a clock, do you feel like you'll go crazy, your hair stands on end, and you're tormented by a compulsion to smash it immediately...?"
"No."
"Do you have a tendency to act secretly and sometimes get assigned to missions to assassinate others...?"
"No."
"Alright. I'll make it as quickly as possible, but it may still take more than 15 days. I'll send someone to your lodging when it's done..."
Though she said that, it didn't even take 5 days for Noh Do-ha to call us back.
There were types who reflected their own wishes when giving deadlines to others and types who didn't trust, and Noh Do-ha was basically a personality whose self-distrust level exceeded double.
"This is Lee Ha-yul's prosthetic..."
"...."
Noh Do-ha handed over a box with hollow eyes. The long, rectangular wooden box was neat and tidy even without any particular decoration.
In one corner of the wooden box, 'Lee Ha-yul, xxxx year xx month xx day' was engraved with a carving knife along with the name and production date. The numbers changed with each iteration.
It was Noh Do-ha's nature to package the completed product in a box at least once more before handing it to the patient rather than giving it raw.
Now you can probably guess why even some ruffian couldn't treat Noh Do-ha carelessly.
If anyone touches this person, there's more than one or two awakeners who would grab their own clubs and form an extermination squad.
"Since it's your first time at our workshop, would you like to try it on here? If there are any parts that don't fit, I'll fix them..."
"Yeah. Please."
"Then, Undertaker awakener-nim, please turn around..."
I complied with the prosthetics maker's instructions.
Over my shoulder, I faintly heard clacking, creaking, and whirring sounds.
Between the noises of metal striking against metal, Noh Do-ha's explanatory tone continued: "This goes like this," "If you think it's not working well, don't get angry and try again calmly."
Finally.
"It's done..."
I turned around.
"Try standing up..."
"...."
Lee Ha-yul wiggled in the wheelchair.
Even during the return from Japan to Korea, Lee Ha-yul had been extremely sensitive about the wheelchair settings—things like the angle of the cushion, how much the cushion had puffed up.
Like someone suddenly forced to leave a rented room they thought they'd live in for the rest of their life, Lee Ha-yul did so with a bit of bewilderment, much worry, and slight expectation.
"...!"
Whether it was spirit or determination, whether she was spitting it out at the world or suggesting it to herself, she made a muted sound that couldn't be distinguished.
And she stood on two legs.
For the first time since she was an infant.
"...."
"How is it? Any pain, nerves prickling, muscles throbbing—any such symptoms?"
"None."
The word 'none' had a particularly heavy mechanical sound.
"How. This. There's nothing at all."
"Hmm."
Noh Do-ha tapped Lee Ha-yul's 'legs' with a rod. The machine made of iron made a metallic sound.
But the material didn't matter.
"Feels like real legs, right...?"
"Yeah. Toes move. Feeling. Really. Walking. My feet are walking."
"Yes, it's real. You see, I added a clockwork spring here. It has absolutely no engineering meaning. I just put it there because it looks cool. The faster you run, the clock hands on the spring spin around, but that too was made just to look cool and has practically no useful purpose. I would've made you a vocal cord too if I could, but that's proving difficult. So... does it suit your taste...?"
"Yeah."
Lee Ha-yul cried. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
Tears kept flowing and blocked her mouth, but Lee Ha-yul could speak without blockage through lips that were not originally hers.
"Thank you."
"Hmm."
Noh Do-ha smiled faintly.
"To some, it might seem like a gloomy or sinister smile."
But I could evaluate it as a smile without reservation, a good smile.
That she was someone who found satisfaction in her life simply by replacing lost bodies for patients, someone whose greatest desire in her entire life was to open a one-lane road directly from her workshop to the house of the most mobility-impaired elderly patient—I always harbored an apologetic feeling in one corner of my heart about dragging such a person out into the mortal world and giving her the title of National Road Management Commander.
"Thank you."
Lee Ha-yul looked at me.
"Thank you, oppa."
After that, Lee Ha-yul still frequently used the wheelchair. She was so used to controlling the doll room, and she liked the sensation of the housekeeper pushing from behind.
But I saw.
"...."
One summer. A day when meteor showers poured like rain from the night sky.
The sight of Lee Ha-yul, who had been in a wheelchair, standing on two legs and reaching her hand toward the starlight.
Looking up at a star that shone as gold as her own pupils, with a vacant golden color that I couldn't begin to guess what she was thinking.
A twinkling little star.
In the end, everyone at birth had no choice but to accept someone else's, not their own, as their heart and flesh.
We were all born as dolls.
But Lee Ha-yul, a doll master, would surely die as a human with each of hundreds and thousands of deaths.
Listening to the lullaby of starlight.
- The Manipulator. End.
An infinite regressor telling a story.