YM778.TV Chapter 58 – The Puppeteer I
Chapter 58 – The Puppeteer I
Chapter 58 – The Puppeteer I
1
The genre of this run is somewhat an eerie mystery.
2
Sometimes I use the term “route.”
This is because I often liken my journey to prevent the world’s destruction to mountain climbing.
Mountaineers climbing the Himalayas often refer to the path they take as the “route.” I borrow their usage and express my own strategy as a route.
The epitome of a regressor.
“How can we prevent the apocalypse?”
How can we conquer the “Mount Everest of Time,” which no human has ever climbed before?
Throughout my 1183 regressions, there have been countless routes.
For example, from regression 35 to 107, the route I attempted to pioneer was the “Civilization Rebuilding Route” or the “Resurrection Route.” The comrades of my climbing team for this path were:
1) The presence of the “Saintess,” who can observe all Awakeneds within the radius and holds a very high moral standard.
2) The SG Net community, where all Awakeneds can participate anytime, anywhere, even if their activity areas are fragmented. In other words, the presence of “Seo Gyu,” who possesses ubiquitous abilities.
3) The existence of a steward who minimally connects the city hubs with roads, maintains and manages the road network, and does not become politically corrupt. In other words, the presence of the “Noh Doha,” the head of the national highway management.
4) A being who can mediate and lead them all, always sincere, the superhuman riding the white horse of this era, in short, me, Doctor Jang.
If you’ve listened to my story so far, you’ll understand that my preparations were methodical and steadfast.
Even in the situation where I lost the strongest swordsman, Old Scho, and the greatest joker, I believe I did my best.
However, the “Resurrection Route” collapsed in an instant.
-Please remember, Mr. Jang.
-The abilities of the Awakeneds are not pure blessings. They are double-edged swords.
The alias of the Saintess after corruption, the executioner.
The appearance of this being completely distorted the route I had been planning.
-When Awakeneds go beyond becoming familiar with their abilities and end up being consumed by them, they become almost like me.
-Twenty years. Before fifteen years approach, you must restore the world to its original state. Please remember, Mr. Jang.
Yes.
Awakeneds were never opposite beings to monsters. They were of the same kind. If monsters were beings born from emptiness, Awakeneds were raising monsters in their minds and hearts.
Tang Seorin. Noh Doha. Cheon Yohwa. Geomho.
The abilities they possessed, miracles that ordinary humans could never achieve… They were not only blessings but also curses.
Now, some readers might start to understand why I had to roll back to regression 1183.
Yes. To catch the monsters, we need Awakeneds, but when Awakeneds become powerful, they transform into super monsters. It’s like the world.
“Do you also like trash? Actually, I really like it. Trash.”
“Here, I made some delicious trash stew. Would you like to try just a spoonful…?”
It’s like awkwardly asking someone about their taste as if forcing their own preferences on others.
Well, you might think there are all sorts of crazy people out there, but unfortunately, the misery of the world doesn’t end here.
But let’s leave the complaints of the regressor for now.
Today, I want to briefly mention the route I first established.
Commonly known as the “A Route.”
It’s the first route of my regressor life, and its detailed name is the “Academy Route.”
3
Unlike other routes, the “A Route” was uniquely created by me and Old Scho.
So, it was a route before Old Scho went on his damn vacation (really, just wait till that guy comes back).
“Hey, Yeomjang.”
Old Scho said while lifting dumbbells.
It was awkward to ask me why he suddenly lifted dumbbells. Because, generally, Old Scho was always working out 24/7.
By the way, “Yeomjang” was another term for Doctor Jang, which Old Scho occasionally called me. Of course, not out of respect for my name but simply to subtly imply “yeombyeong-ah” (a bit crazy) with the pronunciation of “Yeomjang.” Crafty inspiration.
“Why?”
“Did you hear the news?”
“What news?”
“From Fukuoka… No, how does the kid’s speech go? Uh-huh? Responding to adults’ questions with a stutter?”
The exact time was the 18th regression.
At that time, Old Scho was still mentally stable. Of course, even if Old Scho seemed mentally stable, it simply meant that another German-style old geezer would be added to the world.
Let me tell you an amazing fact here. That inspiration, he graduated from a fine arts school.
Isn’t that something?
If you’ve studied history, you can guess what sentence pops out when the subject “Germany” is combined with the predicate “Fine Arts School.”
[PR/N: AHA DARK HUMOUR I LIKE IT.]
“When you regressed last time, did you leave your brain cells behind… Anyway, what about Fukuoka?”
“Oh, yeah. It seems like an interesting Awakened has appeared in Fukuoka. They say his alias is Puppeteer.”
“Puppeteer? What kind of ability is that?”
“I don’t know. Awakeneds usually keep their abilities hidden. We’ve only received information that they’ve been discussing it in the association a few times.”
Old Scho tapped his nose. Unlucky.
“But I have a hunch. A hunch. The Puppeteer is definitely someone outstanding.”
“Oh, that hunch of yours.”
“Why? My hunches are usually right.”
In subculture works, there’s a concept called “Academy Drift.”
It refers to when a decent work suddenly loses its footing, such as when the protagonist enrolls in an academy out of nowhere. Usually, when they fall into the abyss, the form of the work also deteriorates like a ghost.
However, there was a very reasonable reason for Old Scho and me to establish and operate the academy.
“Let’s recruit.”
It was to collect promising talents.
Anyway, whether it was Old Scho or me, just the two of us preventing the world’s destruction was almost impossible.
So, wouldn’t it be possible to at least hold back the constant turmoil of our world, where we’re always making trash stew, by forming a powerful party?
But even if we recruited talented individuals.
-Would you like to join our guild and listen to some bullshit?
-Would you like to enroll in the academy and receive lessons from experts?
There was a significant difference in tone between these two solicitations.
Especially towards Asians. Many Asians, including Koreans, get excited at the mention of words like “education,” “entrance exams,” and “prestigious schools.”
There was no reason not to take advantage of such a good culture.
Old Scho didn’t label himself as the guild leader but rather as the “Academy Principal.” I took on the role of vice principal.
We even added some seasoning to it.
– An academy run by Germans!
– Proven skills from the Ten Clans Suppression. Guaranteed by Sword Saint and Doctor Jang.
The promotional slogans about a pure-blooded foreigner running an academy were definitely laced with Asian-specific brainwashing beams.
By the way, the name of our educational institution was Freedom Academy, or in German, Freiheit Academy.
Ironically, if Germans had seen it, they would have raised their eyebrows at the emphasis on “pure blood” at the institution of “freedom.” Even at the entrance of the most famous building built by Germans, there was a phrase saying “Labor will set you free.”
[PR/N: Bro. ]
Fortunately, Old Scho was a supporter of the Saenuri Party. People placed unwavering trust in the foreigner-run academy specialized for Awakeneds without any hesitation.
Creating an institution called a guild but functioning as an academy to snatch up promising Awakeneds from various countries.
That was the truth of the “A Route.”
“Well, if they’re truly exceptional talents, we should recruit them. So, are you going all the way to Fukuoka to recruit that Puppeteer? Are you still running short on cash these days?”
“Well, where there’s a will, there’s a way. If the scholar goes, won’t he get what he needs even without a boat?”
“Even if you safely cross the Tsushima Strait, I doubt the Japanese folks will just willingly send their Awakeneds. It seems a bit urgent there too.”
“It’s fine. They’re not Japanese; they’re Korean.”
“What?”
“He was originally from Busan and hurriedly evacuated when the Gate opened.”
“But why evacuate… It’s not like the monsters were North Korean soldiers. It’s hell here and there, no different.”
“Who would know that? It’s only been three years, Yeonseok.”
“Oh.”
I had a moment of contemplation.
“…But if it’s Fukuoka, could it be related to the Provisional Government? You’d have a headache if you got involved with those brats for no reason.”
“I don’t know. I’m not all-knowing.”
“Hmm. So when will you go, Your Excellency?”
“Well, when do you plan to go?”
“…?”
“…?”
An exchange of glances ensued.
“……?”
“……?”
Communication, failed.
We both silently raised our swords. We deeply respected the traditional method chosen when communication failed throughout human history.
Five minutes passed.
“Take care, Yeomjang.”
“Sure thing…”
“Why are you trying to defeat a Swordmaster with such a shabby sword skill? Oh. If there’s instant ramen on your way back, grab some. Might as well get tonkotsu. They say Fukuoka is famous for tonkotsu, right? Let’s stock up on some grease for our stomachs.”
Unjust as it was, what could I do? Until now, I had been even more incompetent than Old Scho.
Dragging my bruised body, I solemnly left the principal’s office.
[“The Savior of the Nation” is rooting for you.]
I forced a bitter smile.
“Indeed, my only ally is the savior.”
Of course, in the 18th regression, I didn’t know that the savior’s true identity was an Awakened. The relationship between me and the Savior was closer to a parasocialism, a pseudo-social relationship, using professional terms.
“The Savior only recognizes me. I’ll be briefly going on a business trip to Japan, so please take care of the old man while I’m away.”
[“Don’t worry,” says ‘The Savior of the Nation’ to you.]
“Savior…!”
To give you the closest example, it’s like being a YouTuber and having an overly enthusiastic fan.
Well, anyway, since the Savior stuff originated from an internet broadcasting platform, it’s a pretty wholesome hobby, right?
Hmm.
…Those were immature times in many ways.
In my memory, even if it was close to a dark history, from other people’s perspective, the “Doctor Jang” as an Awakened was undoubtedly a pivotal figure.
Old Scho. Tang Seorin. Doctor Jang.
No matter what anyone said, we three were the main players in the Ten Clans Suppression.
And the fact that we, purely driven by civilians and not government-led, successfully subdued boss-level monsters was a global first.
Originally, there was a tradition on the Korean Peninsula where irregular forces were favored over regular armies. So, it wasn’t anything strange.
Of course, if we list popularity without discriminating between domestic and international fame,
Tang Seorin > Old Scho ≧ Doctor Jang
would be the order.
While Old Scho and my fame fluctuated, Tang Seorin always maintained her unbeatable top spot.
She was the head of the Korean Peninsula Guild Union (the name subtly changed depending on the regression). Above all, in terms of character, she outshone people like Old Scho and me.
A witch singing on the battlefield? Isn’t that cheating? How could two swordsmen beat that?
Frankly, if anyone saw Tang Seorin singing a 4-level a cappella on the battlefield, they’d think she was amazing. Even more so if her singing provided buff doping without any side effects.
Ah, already Awakeneds on the Korean Peninsula couldn’t go out to subdue bosses without Tang Seorin’s songs…
Anyway,
My position on the Korean Peninsula was as the second-in-command, occasionally stepping down to third place when Old Scho displayed his unprecedented potential.
“Welcome to Japan! Doctor Jang!”
Just with that position alone, all sorts of hangers-on flocked to me.
“Wow!”
“Welcome to Busan!”
“Doctor! Doctor! Doctor!”
As soon as we landed at the port, nearly three hundred people cheered enthusiastically. They were more like a massive army than hangers-on.
They even flapped banners fervently instead of fly wings. The banners bore these patterns:
[★Pride of South Korea, Awakened Doctor Jang★]
[Welcome to Busan!]
[All members of the Provisional Government of South Korea]
Ah.
It made my spine tingle.
“What’s with Busan, you crazy people…”
Let me explain.
First of all, naturally, I took a boat from Busan to Fukuoka, Japan. I definitely didn’t go on a tour around the Korea Strait and come back to Busan.
What went back wasn’t my destination but their state of mind.
Fukuoka.
In Chinese characters, it’s read as “Bugang.” Here, “Gang” means “hill” or “mound.” So, the flying insects in front of me agreed to call Fukuoka “Busan.” Leaving the perfectly fine city name as it is.
It was akin to stamping “From now on, you’re Indians” on the Native Americans of the American continent.
What’s even more irritating is the fact that Japan already has a city called Toyama that could serve as an equivalent to Busan.
In essence, the people in front of me were causing triple trouble in Busan, Fukuoka, and Toyama.
Why, though?
“Heh, welcome, Doctor Jang!”
The middle-aged man standing at the forefront of the welcoming crowd explained everything.
Jung Sijang.
His real name was Jung Sangguk.
Although he was referred to as a mayor, he wasn’t currently in office. The profession of a civil servant on the Korean Peninsula had been abolished long ago, along with elementary, middle, and high school students.
Jung Sangguk was a “former” mayor of Busan.
Currently, he was also the leader of the Provisional Government of South Korea.
When a massive vacuum emerged south of the Han River, causing the Blue House and the legislature to reconcile and start heading towards paradise, Sejong and Busan were the only cities that could quell the situation.
The group of officials in Sejong even attempted to control the military (and they all went on a gourmet trip to Shilla in harmony).
On the other hand, Mayor Jung Sangguk of Busan chose a slightly more traditional approach.
– Fellow citizens, what ethnicity are we?
– Um… the delivery people?
– No. We’re the people of Terran.
Jung Sangguk took his supporters and organization and moved the command center.
The citizens couldn’t help but admire the humor that suited their generation.
While the founding father of the Great Donggang faction, Kim Il-sung, might have thought he could spread the doctrine alone, Jung Sangguk teleported the entire group. The fact that the archenemy of the Samhan martial arts was in the Donggang faction was evidence. It was literally a different level of law.
Now Koreans recognized Mayor Jung Sangguk of Busan on par with the Commander of the Samdo Sugun Tongsaji, Won Gyun, and Prime Minister Yi Wan-yong of the Korean Empire.
Considering Koreans are particularly stingy when it comes to evaluating politicians, it was not an easy achievement.
After all, all politicians are staunch idealists.
Politicians believed that even if they lacked practicality in reality, they could always borrow loans from concepts. Jung Sangguk was no exception.
The exile group had suddenly become a “government in exile,” and the government in exile had suddenly transformed into the “Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea.” Jung Sangguk’s business card was reprinted each time, and now he was the “Prime Minister of the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea.”
And on the day of his inauguration as prime minister, Fukuoka was also renamed as Busan. Thanks to this, Jung Sangguk also acquired the title of “Representative of Busan” as the head of the Fukuoka Korean Association.
In short, it was madness.
Now I was invited to the stage of that madness.
It’s a grammar that’s universally accepted worldwide for a fallen politician to fawn over a war hero.
“I’ve admired you, Teacher Jang, for a long time!”
Back in the day, when Terran user Jung Sangguk reached 2150 points on StarCraft ladder, he smiled brightly and embraced me.
He was followed by numerous handshake requests from the Prime Minister of the Provisional Government, who then became the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Minister of Finance, Minister of Justice, and Minister of the Interior. It was a very restrained mechanical hug.
I also smiled mechanically. And silently, I gave the latest MZ-type nicknames to the members of the Provisional Government, such as ‘damn inspiration tank,’ ‘that’s why I didn’t want to come on a business trip to Fukuoka.’
Heh-heh-heh.
In the distance, along with the laughter of Old Scho, there seemed to be an auditory hallucination saying, “Yeah, your sword skills are pathetic.” Damn it.