The Tales of an Infinite Regressor

3

Aside from discovering Noh Doha’s peculiar affinity for choking, everything was proceeding as planned.

The SG-net was buzzing.

-Anonymous: I heard the National Road Administration’s head isn’t around? Is that true?

-[NRA] Cadet: It’s true. Our boss is on a long leave.

└Anonymous: ?

└Anonymous: ?

└LiteratureGirl: That machine needed a vacation?

-[NRA] Cadet: Yep. Even we were surprised. Since the NRA was established, there’s never been a holiday, let alone a vacation. But this time, the boss took a 21-day leave and just disappeared without a word.

└Anonymous: That guy is really unpredictable. Seriously seems like a lunatic.

-KoryoElder: ? lol

└[NRA] Cadet: What? Why?

└KoryoElder: He just took a 21-day leave and left without a trace? lol

└[NRA] Cadet: Yeah. Why?

└KoryoElder: lolololol

└[NRA] Cadet: ?

-[Three Thousand Worlds] WitchHunter: Hmm…

“Hmm…”

At that moment, Noh Doha, who had been reading the comments beside me, let out a thoughtful hum.

I folded my smartphone, returning from the virtual world to reality.

“What’s the matter?”

“…It’s just this ore. It’s fascinating. It’s light yet sturdy. This really isn’t from Earth. Did you say it was adamantium or something…?”

“Adamantium. Make sure you don’t confuse it with mithril by accident. That could cause a lot of trouble.”

“…Those two words don’t sound similar at all…”

Noh Doha pulled out a monocle and put it on.

Though it was partly because his left eye was particularly weak, it was more of a ritual for her, a signal that he was getting down to serious work.

Just like how soccer players touch the grass or pray before stepping onto the field.

“Hmmm…”

Noh Doha wandered around the mining village, his monocle reflecting the scene of the dwarves crafting weapons.

Clang, clang!

The dwarves mechanically hammered the weapons, and as soon as they completed one, they started the same process again. However, the completed items did not remain in reality; they dissolved into the air.

Noh Doha reached out to touch the remnants in the air.

“Hmmm… A village where items disappear right after being made. But it seems I can learn their blacksmithing skills just by watching…”

“How is it? Do you understand anything?”

“Well, not really. You might call me a blacksmith, but I’m just a maker of assistive devices… If you ask me to make weapons out of the blue, it’s quite difficult…”

Muttering, Noh Doha extended his right arm toward me while keeping his gaze fixed on the dwarves.

I grabbed a hammer and tongs from another dwarf and handed them to him. His pale fingers silently grasped the tools.

“Do you think I’m Doraemon? Making limbs is hard enough, but now you want me to build roads, organize and run the National Road Administration, balance the power of military guilds, goddamn. Do you think I’m a vending machine that spits out whatever you poke…?”

Clang.

Noh Doha mimicked the dwarf with a sideways glance. Clang, the unfamiliar material caused his hammer to slightly miss its mark.

“Hmmm…”

The corner of Noh Doha’s mouth twitched. He kept his lips tightly shut and imitated the dwarf from start to finish for hours.

By that night, Noh Doha was holding a sword. Its form was somewhat clumsy, and its balance was completely off, a crude blade.

But under the moonlight, it undeniably had the outline of a sword. His slender eyes, like the moonlight, traced the blade’s curve. His gaze was so sharp that placing the two together seemed like it would cut the blade itself.

“Hm. I’m not sure yet. I might need to start with something simpler, like a hoe…”

From that night onward, Noh Doha practically stopped eating and drinking, relentlessly imitating the dwarves one by one.

Clang, clang-

I followed him like an assistant, carrying tools. We made a great team.

“…”

The shadows of the dwarves remained in place of the humans who had left to escape the monsters.

The mining village, long in decline.

In a village where it was just the two of us, the clang of metal endlessly echoed.

Naturally, this reminded me of something.

Hundreds of years ago.

The only time Noh Doha addressed me by a different title rather than ‘Doctor Jang.’

4

“I want to work as an assistant in the Forge Master’s workshop. Please hire me.”

“Hmmm…”

It was my 53rd regression.

Until then, the National Road Administration had never been established in my regressor life. It existed only as a paper plan in the palace of my memories.

During this period, I was searching for a suitable candidate for the position of ‘head of a quasi-governmental organization.’ In other words, the most powerful person in the Korean Peninsula in the future.

5

Tang Seorin was the first candidate that came to mind, but that was a last resort. While it might have been favoritism on my part, I didn’t want to impose any more constraints on her.

I could potentially do it myself, but I needed to be on the front lines, containing the anomalies. It was difficult to be both Xiang Yu and Xiao He.

The criteria were fourfold:

– Someone not corrupted by the desire for power. In other words, mental strength or character.

– Someone who knew how to wield power. In other words, competence or instinct.

– Someone who pursued practical benefits as a collaborative system rather than individual numerical aggregation. In other words, conviction or philosophy.

– Someone who dared to tread untrodden paths. In other words, courage or bravery.

These were practically impossible criteria.

However, the difference between “impossible” and “almost impossible” allowed me, with infinite time, to explore the gap between them.

Initiate the test.

-Hey, Doctor Jang! Aren’t we the top family in Korea now? Let’s show those Incheon guys what we’re made of…

-What? Build a road to Seoul? Why on earth would we do that? If we waste our energy building roads, it just benefits other guilds…

-Doctor, sorry, but can you take a break? You’re so outstanding that I’m losing my influence. Take a vacation and come back…

Eliminated. Put on hold. Eliminated.

Countless candidates were considered and dismissed. I spent at least five years, sometimes up to ten, being a friend, colleague, and partner to each candidate.

I gave and took away power. I granted and stripped away honor. If that wasn’t enough, I would observe their character from multiple angles, even if it meant skipping to the next turn.

The head of the National Road Administration I envisioned required such thorough scrutiny.

I swept through the people of the Korean Peninsula like a massive tidal wave, increasing my scrutiny, until finally, I reached a remote alley.

“An assistant? It’s true our workshop is always short-handed, but… really? You look like someone who could join another guild and live well…”

Noh Doha.

A man suited for an island.

If I weren’t a regressor, I would never have met him type in my lifetime.

He was already famous for custom-making prosthetics for those who had lost limbs. I had also been indebted to him in several other turns.

But this was my first time trying to establish a close relationship beyond just being a customer and a shopkeeper.

I bowed my head.

“My father had difficulty walking his whole life. I want a job that can help those with mobility issues.”

“Oh. Your father…?”

“He passed away.”

A lie.

“Due to an anomaly.”

“Hmmm…”

Noh Doha’s hum was as resonant now as it was then. It was a vibration that seemed to outline a person by gently touching them with sound.

Like a bat using ultrasound to map its surroundings.

“Well, then wouldn’t revenge on the anomalies be more fulfilling than helping others…?”

“…”

“Of course, urging you to give up on revenge would be presumptuous, and pushing you to focus on it would be equally foolish. Fine. If you don’t mind starting as a temporary apprentice, go ahead…”

If this world wasn’t an island, he would create an island to live on.

Noh Doha’s network was not wide but very dense.

He would pull in and examine everything to decide what to keep and what to discard.

You could tell just by watching him with the other apprentices in his workshop, excluding me.

“Don’t come in from tomorrow…”

“What?”

“I’m firing you. Do I have to repeat myself until your eardrums burst? Should I pull out the iron rod for you…?”

“Uh, no. Workshop Master! Please wait!”

The fired apprentice had murmured derogatory comments about a young customer who had lost a leg after lunch. No one helped the dismissed apprentice. Worker protection? Labor laws? Such Western-sounding terms didn’t exist in the Eastern Land of Courtesy.

“Oh my, elder! How did you get here with all this snow making the roads treacherous? Here, have a warm coffee.”

“Oh, how kind of you… Thank you…”

And I was an ultra-special weapon that even the craziest swordswoman on the peninsula respected. Naturally, dealing with the elderly, who were the main customers of the workshop, was no problem.

To Noh Doha, who seemed to have “Respect for the Elderly” inscribed on his skull, I must have appeared to be a very desirable apprentice.

“Doctor Jang apprentice.”

“Doctor Jang employee.”

“Assistant.”

“Assistant Doctor Jang.”

Each time my title changed, Noh Doha’s list of workshop employees underwent a transformation.

6

With Noh Doha realizing he no longer needed to lower his standards, he fully awakened as a true bourgeoisie. He began delegating all the tedious tasks to me—personnel management, customer relations, internal faction management, revenue improvement.

“Assistant.”

Eight years.

It took eight years for the six-syllable title “Doctor Jang Apprentice” to shrink to the two-syllable “Assistant.”

Reducing it by merely one syllable every two years—truly a testament to how difficult it was to get close to her.

“Yes, Master.”

“Are you not evacuating, Assistant? They say those anomalies are consuming the northern cities one by one and heading south.”

“Master, really? Where would we evacuate to from Busan?”

“Japan, perhaps. China. Or even further down to Southeast Asia. There are always unlimited places to run to in the world, aren’t there?”

“Do you think those places will be any safer? I’m staying put.”

It wasn’t just me.

Every time we faced annihilation, it was surprising how many people decided not to run until the end.

Noh Doha was no exception.

“Have you heard? The Three Thousand Realms are forming a final resistance force to launch a counterattack.”

“Hmm. Do you think they’ll succeed?”

“It’s unlikely. Even if they do, it’s uncertain. The moment the anomalies formed a ‘monster wave,’ it was already over.”

“Really?”

“The anomalies aren’t particularly friendly with each other. Their types and personalities are inherently different. The fact that they have formed a legion means they have excluded any incompatible types and personalities, fusing into one entity. No, calling them an entity is misleading. They are just… a mass of cancer cells. Bugs in the world. Even if we manage to defend Busan this time, the anomalies will keep spreading, aimlessly disseminating the bug.”

“Hmmm.”

Noh Doha smiled with his eyes.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Oh, nothing. Sometimes… I think you know an awful lot, Assistant.”

“….”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter…”

The next day, the final resistance force that the Korean Peninsula had squeezed out was swallowed by the tidal wave of anomalies.

“Assistant.”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing? It’s 8 o’clock, and you haven’t opened the shop yet. Do you think you can skip out now because you’re the senior employee? Should I help you fill out your resignation letter?”

“No, Master. I’m on it.”

Click.

I flipped the sign on the glass door from [Closed] to [Opened].

On the day the last city on the Korean Peninsula fell.

Noh Doha’s workshop opened for business as usual.

7

Despite the impending apocalypse, Noh Doha and I continued our daily routines as if nothing was happening. The anomalies drew closer each day, and the tension in Busan escalated.

“Assistant, did you finish the custom prosthetic order for Mr. Kim?”

“Yes, it’s ready for pickup.”

“Good. Let’s keep our clients satisfied, even if the world is ending.”

The city’s atmosphere grew more desperate, with more and more people seeking prosthetics, either due to accidents or encounters with anomalies. Our workshop became a haven for those who had lost hope, providing them with the means to keep going, if only for a little while longer.

“Master, do you ever think about leaving all this behind?”

“No. This workshop is my world. I’ll stay here until the end.”

His resolve was unshakeable, and it inspired a similar determination in me. The city’s final stand was near, but within the walls of our workshop, life continued as it always had.

“Assistant, I need you to deliver this prosthetic to the hospital. They’re short on staff, and the patients can’t make it here.”

“Understood. I’ll head out right away.”

I navigated the war-torn streets, delivering hope in the form of prosthetics to those who needed it most. The gratitude in their eyes was enough to keep me going.

Returning to the workshop, I found Noh Doha deeply engrossed in his work, the clang of his tools echoing a defiance against the chaos outside.

“Master, the delivery is done.”

“Good. Now, let’s get back to work. We still have a lot to do.”

As the final battle for Busan loomed, we continued to serve our community, determined to make a difference no matter how small. The workshop, filled with the sounds of creation and resilience, stood as a beacon of hope in a world on the brink of collapse.