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

She was an extremist who went beyond the black cat and white cat analogy, believing it didn't matter if the cat was black or white as long as it tasted good (and indeed, rats were a good source of nutrition in the apocalypse).

In short, Noh Do-hwa was specialized in squeezing out extreme efficiency from any situation, regardless of whether the counterpart was a cult or something else.

"Use them? The Resurrection Church?"

"Yes. I'd like to consult the ‘Regressor Wiki’ first, though... The Resurrection Church won't last long, right?"

"Of course. The Resurrection Church will collapse within three years at the latest."

Indeed.

No matter how wildly the Resurrection Church expanded, aiming not only for the North Korean region but also reaching into Manchuria, there was no reason to care. It was destined to collapse soon anyway.

It was different from New Buddha's Udumbara.

Udumbara genuinely provided 'benefits' to its virus-infected followers. New Buddhists could regenerate from severed limbs, crushed heads, and torn organs endlessly. They could even live without eating, surviving solely on photosynthesis. If not for the minor drawback of having to sacrifice their lives to the World Tree upon the due date, I might have converted to New Buddha myself.

But the Resurrection Church?

"Mo Gwang-seo has no powers. Apart from shining every time he resurrects, he has no abilities at all."

"Hmm..."

This had already been verified multiple times.

In one cycle, we even kidnapped Mo Gwang-seo and conducted biological experiments on him. We tried everything: scorching, roasting, burning him with aura, and other methods.

‘Is he still not dead? Even now?’

Despite our efforts, the results were disappointing. Mo Gwang-seo resurrected every time.

One day, we tied Mo Gwang-seo to a spot where a meteor shower was expected to hit. The meteor shower, which devastated everything around it, failed to kill him.

We even hired a UFO to kill him. We put Mo Gwang-seo on a fishing boat that sailed to the East Sea, timing it with the fall of aliens there.

-Kyaaaah!

-Kiyah! Kyaaah!

An interstellar warrior race attacked Mo Gwang-seo.

Flash! Flash! Mo Gwang-seo died dozens of times per second, creating blinding flashes everywhere. The East Sea turned into the hottest club in the world in no time.

Thirty minutes passed.

-Kiyaaaah...

-Kyak, kyaaaah...

The miracle UFO, which could survive space but melted like salt in H₂O, sank.

The aliens, who had put all their energy into the club party, also turned into liquid and flowed away. These guys were just Ultraman with a time limit extended from 3 minutes to 30 minutes.

Bing—

Amidst the aliens evolving into slimy slimes, only Mo Gwang-seo remained, smiling peacefully on the fishing boat.

It was an astonishing vitality.

But... that was all.

The light emitted by Mo Gwang-seo had no divine blessing, not even the rejuvenating effects of a Bacchus drink. It was just bright.

Very bright.

Besides damaging the human cornea, it had no other, real, or significant meaning.

-Ooh! Mo Gwang-seo Jesus Christ has returned to save the Earth!

-I believe!

For some reason, people were fascinated by Mo Gwang-seo. They worshipped him as a god, despite his lack of usefulness beyond shining.

Why?

I had no idea. If I knew, I would have run to Pyongyang to chant Amen to Mo Gwang-seo myself.

Isn't the world mysterious?

"Well, there's no need to analyze why. Leave that to psychologists or sociologists. What's important to us is that the Resurrection Church has mobilization and action capabilities..."

Returning to the main point, Noh Do-hwa continued.

"We only need to guard a few strongholds. If the Resurrection Church can attract the attention of anomalies in the North, wouldn't that be beneficial?"

"Oh. Are you planning to use the Resurrection Church as a human shield?"

"Yes..."

Clang.

Noh Do-hwa lightly tapped the ankle brace with a hammer. Even after becoming the Director of National Road Management, she would make or repair braces herself if there were no urgent issues.

In her usual routine, Noh Do-hwa had a memo attached to the brace with the name Shin Soo-bin written on it. She was one of the elderly who still referred to her as 'the brace mechanic' rather than 'Director of National Road Management.'

"Undertaker, if you think about it rationally, the Resurrection Church doesn't cause us much trouble aside from their northern crusade. If we can use these people who are so desperate to die as shields, wouldn't that be the right way to use lives...?"

"Hmm."

I pondered.

In previous cycles, I didn't interfere with the Resurrection Church. I viewed the Resurrection Church as a slow suicide ritual for the remnants of South Korea.

Christianity. The religion with the deepest roots in Korea. The Resurrection Church merely imitated its language and grammar on the surface.

Northern Crusade. The ideology with the longest roots in Korea. The Resurrection Church also borrowed the color and scent of this ideology.

The cult of all cults.

The parasite of all parasites.

But a parasite can't survive if the host dies. Civilization had collapsed. South Korea was dead.

Only the parasites remained, writhing in the last season on a corpse that had already stopped breathing.

I didn't respect their lives, but I honored their deaths. People should have the right to choose their deaths. The 'Eastern Holy State' and 'Pyongyang Sacred City' were their self-chosen graves and coffins.

"Let’s consume the brain of the Resurrection Church..."

Noh Do-hwa was someone who would use corpses if necessary.

In front of Noh Do-hwa's eyes, which had a gloomy shadow, I temporarily set aside my personal sentiments.

It wasn't difficult. I didn't have to disregard the opinions of a life I valued for lives I didn't respect.

"So, you're suggesting we take control of the Eastern Holy State's leadership and play the puppet master."

"Yes..."

"It's not easy. The Eastern Holy State is not a country. It's not even a single group. It's just a collection of cultists gathering and dispersing under the symbol of Mo Gwang-seo. We have to either bring all twelve so-called 'Apostles' to our side or choose one as a champion and make them 'Pope.' Of course, our support must flow to keep the Eastern Holy State intact. Is it worth the effort?"

"No, it's not worth it..."

Heh, Noh Do-hwa chuckled.

"But if we can manipulate just Mo Gwang-seo, won't it be a profitable deal...?"

"What? How? If you're thinking of using Cheon Yo-hwa's brainwashing ability, we've already tried that. Mo Gwang-seo's brainwashing resets every time he resurrects. Yo-hwa can't go up to Pyongyang every Sunday to act as a missionary."

"No, not the Baekhwa guild leader. Don't you have a bum in your guild? Are you saving that for soup...?"

I blinked. A bum?

"Oh."

I had a solution.

"Guild Leader? Why are you looking at me like that...?"

"Not you, Ah-ryeon."

"Huh?"

Our guild had two bums.

One was Sim Ah-ryeon, who dreamed of being Professor Quirrell’s tongue. The other was the one nestled in Sim Ah-ryeon’s arms, tilting their head.

The bum waved at me when our eyes met. Then, a maid connected to the bum by a transparent thread spoke.

"Why?"

The Puppeteer, Lee Ha-yul.

Ha-yul rarely appeared in my stories, for a simple reason. She often left without telling anyone.

You could say she liked traveling. Describing her as a wanderer with an itchy foot wouldn't be far off. Ha-yul would disappear for half a month to a month after extracting just enough puppet threads for use.

Sometimes, he would randomly ask me to join him on trips to dangerous areas.

‘This time, I want to go to India, Oppa.’

‘Let’s make rice balls at Uyuni Salt Flats. You make the rice, Oppa.’

As someone who enjoyed life in the apocalypse, Ha-yul perfectly embodied the principle that hard workers can't beat those who enjoy it.

If Ha-yul were to become the protagonist of a spin-off, the genre of the story would swiftly change from survival to road movie travel.

Maybe she was a counter-revolutionary who was born oppressed by a normal market—just a guess.

Anyway, from Noh Do-hwa’s perspective, who believed humans should devote 25 hours out of 24 to work, Lee Ha-yul was naturally a ‘bum.’

The bum was currently lying on the sofa, using Sim Ah-ryeon’s lap as a pillow, munching on potato chips.

"Ha-yul."

I tried to smile as warmly and kindly as I could.

For reference, I also believed that humans should spend at least 20 hours a day working, even if not as much as Noh Do-hwa.

"Why?"

"Ha-yul, you like puppets, right? Puppets? I found a puppet in the North that you might like to play with. Interested?"

"......"

Blink, blink. The golden eyes of this lazy hitchhiker child swayed emotionlessly.

"Not interested."

"Hmm... How can I make you interested? I think it’s time for you to start working, don’t you think?"

"No need to work. Puppet threads, only I can make them. Patent rights. Other guild leaders beg me to install them in their hideouts. Consulting fees alone are enough for a lifetime of playing."

This damn privileged talent...

"I finished reading the Romance of the Three Kingdoms you told me to read last time. At least give me three years of impunity."

"Hey. Does reading it properly include supporting Wei? How could anyone support Wei?"

"Sun Quan's country was invisible and transparent. Shu was an infinite labor black country. If you're not from Xu Province, why wouldn't you choose Wei?"

"...If you don't help with this, I’ll tell Seo Gyu to delete your SG Net account."

"I must have been from Xu Province in my past life. How can I help, Oppa?"

A direct highway of puppet threads was laid from Seoul to Pyongyang.

Ha-yul had to become a thread-spinning machine for two years, producing about 250km of threads, but it wasn’t a big problem.

The threads were laid without being noticed by anyone, and they were transparent. It was difficult to cut the threads without using aura.

I infiltrated the Holy Pyongyang City.

"Hmm? Just now..."

"What's wrong?"

"No, I felt a breeze. Was it a mistake?"

Although Mo Gwang-seo had an awakened bodyguard unit, avoiding their detection was no big deal. Thirty percent of them were opium addicts anyway.

Some of the bodyguards even carried firearms. Using guns in this day and age—they were amateurs who didn’t value their lives.

I erased my presence and snuck into the 'Mo Gwang-seo Christ Cathedral.'

The place, once known as the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun, had been haphazardly rebuilt with spires and crosses all over the building, some of which had collapsed in the wind.

In the heart of the cathedral, Mo Gwang-seo was alone. Without an altar or a tabernacle, only the presence of the cult leader, Mo Gwang-seo, sitting on a golden throne, sufficed.

"......"

Though it wasn't mass time, there was no telling when a follower might enter. I quickly attached puppet threads to various parts of Mo Gwang-seo's body.

"Saintess, it's all set up."

[Yes, I’ve told Ha-yul... She says it’s too far, so it's difficult to control.]

"Does that mean it's impossible?"

[No, she says he can still move the mouth.]

I nodded. For this task, I had intensely trained Ha-yul in aura control for the past two years.

"Tell her to say something random as a test."

[Okay.]

A moment later.

"Oppa."

Chills ran down my spine. Mo Gwang-seo’s lips, which always wore a smile, were slowly moving.

"Can I take a break from training now?"

"...Sure, Ha-yul. Just endure it on the days of the mass once a week."

"You- the hypocritical bastard- who betrayed Liu Bei of Yi Province. Zhang Fei’s head dangling- Guan Yu’s head dangling- Brother, why don’t you come, Brother? Did you forget the Peach Garden oath? Come quickly, Brother."

Click.

Mo Gwang-seo’s mouth returned to its original position.

"......"

I was furious but held back. Okay. After all, the kid endured hellish training, spinning puppet threads nonstop for two years, so she deserved some stress relief.

I slightly adjusted Lee Ha-yul's awakened rank from 1,000m to 900m in my mind and slipped away.

The very next day's Sunday mass, the Eastern Holy State’s hypnotic app (with backdoor installed) showcased its performance.

"From the far frozen land, monsters will come."

The followers were startled.

"Ch-Chairman...?"

"Mo Gwang-seo Jesus has spoken!"

Buzzing.

The cult followers, who had never heard the resurrected leader speak, were shocked. Some impatient individuals were already kneeling and weeping.

Mo Gwang-seo spoke softly.

"You have purified the kingdom with your faith, now it is time to build walls with your body and blood. When this winter comes, the demon army will arrive. Build fortresses and walls at every path to testify your faith."

"W-Walls, you say...?"

"Your kingdom must be preserved for the lost sheep to find their way. Protecting this place is the path to heaven. My beloved children, prepare to fight the monsters and demons. But do not oppress my people, build walls solely with your voluntary faith."

"Oooooooh!"

Mo Gwang-seo’s official first speech caused a huge uproar.

The crusaders, who had been marching north endlessly as if they relished throwing their lives away, stopped and began constructing fortresses. The leader's command was sacrosanct.

Even if the fortresses couldn’t significantly impact the monsters, it was far better than futile expansion of church influence. The number of monsters coming down from the North also decreased.

And that wasn't all.

[The Morning Star of the Second Coming commands the faithful followers.]

We even created a Constellation imitating Mo Gwang-seo.

On non-mass days, the Saint impersonated Mo Gwang-seo and sent 'Constellation Messages' to control the followers.

Claiming to be the reincarnated Jesus, so the second coming. Mo Gwang-seo’s name, Gwang-seo (曙光), reversed to Seogwang, meaning dawn. So, the Morning Star of the Second Coming.

Naturally, this Constellation was newly established exclusively for awakened individuals who worshiped the Resurrection Church.

[The Morning Star of the Second Coming prophesies the imminent arrival of monster armies.]

[The Morning Star of the Second Coming guides your path forward.]

[The Morning Star of the Second Coming orders not to antagonize the National Road Management, as they fulfill God's will.]

The malicious software secretly installed by Lee Ha-yul and the Saint worked perfectly on the Resurrection Church.

Now, the followers of the Resurrection Church were puppets controlled by us.

"Excellent..."

Noh Do-hwa, who commanded this grand hacking project, was thoroughly satisfied. Confirming the proper functioning of the backdoor, the Director of National Road Management smiled faintly.

"We can use them whenever necessary now. Thank you for your hard work, Undertaker..."

"It was nothing."

From this point on, our actual control extended beyond the Han River to the North.

The time taken to reach this point, combining all cycles, was about 2,000 years.

It might be the slowest territorial expansion in all genre novels and alternate history novels.

Here’s a short epilogue.

Even though a direct highway of puppet threads connected Seoul to Pyongyang, occasional maintenance was necessary.

Every six months, I infiltrated the Pyongyang Sacred City cathedral to check on the puppet threads.

After finishing the usual tuning, I turned around.

"Enter through the narrow gate."

I turned around.

Mo Gwang-seo’s unfocused eyes were looking down at the floor.

"The gate to destruction is wide and the road is broad, and many enter through it."

"......"

"But the gate to life is small and the road narrow, and only a few find it. Scribe, enter through the narrow gate."

Then Mo Gwang-seo fell silent again.

It felt a bit eerie, but I didn't take it seriously. I thought Ha-yul was just playing a prank on me again.

Back in Seoul, I asked.

"Ha-yul, I didn't know you read the Bible."

"Huh?"

"You quoted the Gospel of Matthew in Pyongyang. Why did you call me a scribe?"

"......?"

Lee Ha-yul tilted his head.

"I've never read the Bible."

"......"

"I'm not religious."

...Whether Lee Ha-yul was telling the truth or lying, I'll leave that judgment to you.

Footnotes:

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