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

Potato I

To be honest, I had quite a bit of conflict when introducing the last story. It was a clash between the editor and the original author. Oh Dok-seo and I had sharply differing opinions.

“Oh Dok-seo insisted, ‘No matter what, [the Admin of the Infinite Metagame] story must be placed at the very end!’”

When I asked why, she said:

“Mister, are you stupid? It’s for symmetry. Symmetry. You can’t resist the beauty of ending a work with the exact same sentence it started with.”

“Hmm.”

While there was some merit to that aesthetic, it had more drawbacks than advantages.

“Drawbacks? What drawbacks? Symmetry is unbeatable and divine. There are only advantages.”

“Dok-seo, I’m a regressor. If the novel starts and ends the same way, it could create an anomaly where it endlessly repeats from the beginning.”

I sipped my coffee.

“It might emphasize that this novel is about infinite regression. However, it would counteract the goal of escaping the fate of regression.”

There was another reason. I had decided to be as honest as possible with all of you. So I didn’t want to hide the circumstances under which I decided to write this story, my ‘life story’ as I call it, until the novel's ending. If I were to hide something, it would only be to subdue an anomaly. Other than that, I am entirely open with you.

“Indeed… Your goal is to make regression unnecessary. Symmetry could turn into an infinite ouroboros, causing harm. Wow, you really have to consider every detail…”

“Thank you for understanding my dilemma.”

That wasn’t my only concern. Every story had its own issues, sometimes related to personal privacy. In such cases, I generally asked the person involved for permission. For example, I sought approval from the Saintess in the 800th cycle for an incident that happened in the 600th cycle.

Today’s story was no different. The protagonist of this story was the Saintess. So, I explained everything to her beforehand and asked for her permission.

“…Did that really happen?”

“Yes, it did. Hard to believe, but true. So, may I write about it?”

“Well… Yes. Since writing the novel itself acts as a weight suppressing the anomaly. If I can help, it’s fine.”

The Saintess rarely hesitated, but she did this time. After a brief silence, she whispered cautiously. Her voice seemed to tremble, though it might have been my imagination.

“…Mr. Undertaker, are you sure?”

It really happened. One day, I was going about my usual regressor routine when I received a telepathic message from the Saintess.

[Mr. Undertaker, I’m sorry, but can we postpone this week's study session to tomorrow?]

“Pardon? Oh, yes, that’s fine.”

For reference, the Saintess and I had a study session every Wednesday. We mainly read philosophy books. It was a tradition that started in the 63rd cycle.

“Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

[No, everything’s fine. Thank you for asking.]

“Alright then, as long as everything is fine.”

I said it casually, but I was a bit surprised. The Saintess once insisted on holding the study session right after subduing the Meteor Shower, saying, “It’s Wednesday today. Let’s study.” That’s how serious she was about our study sessions. But now she wanted to postpone it? Did the concept of ‘postponing time’ exist for the Saintess?

[Mr. Undertaker, I’m really sorry. Can we postpone the study session to tomorrow again?]

To my astonishment, she asked to reschedule again the next day! My expression became very serious. This was unprecedented. I’d sooner believe that Sim Ah-ryeon quit social media than this.

“Saintess, are you sure everything is alright? This is the first time you’ve postponed a study session twice in a row.”

[…….]

“In my experience, unprecedented events are almost always related to anomalies. If you don’t provide a satisfactory explanation, I must assume the worst—that an anomaly has possessed you.”

[No… Um, no. Okay. You’re the expert. It might be better to rely on you.]

“Where are you now? What happened?”

[That’s a very difficult question to explain.]

The Saintess, who found explaining Kant’s transcendental idealism ‘easy,’ admitted difficulty.

[Please come to my house.]

I went. The Saintess’s house in Yongsan always had a pleasant aquatic smell. Various sizes of fish tanks filled with tropical fish were everywhere. However, algae had begun to form on the once crystal-clear glass walls of the tanks. This was odd. The Saintess, who even used chopsticks to eat potato chips, allowed algae in her tanks?

‘Something is definitely wrong!’

I clenched my fist.

“Where are you, Saintess?”

[Come to the kitchen.]

I went. The kitchen was modest, suitable for someone living alone. A small table designed for a single person, never intended for two. In the middle of the table sat an unexpected item—a potato.

“……?”

Yes. A single potato was there. It seemed random, but I ignored it. More pressing matters were at hand.

[Mr. Undertaker, thank you for coming all this way.]

“Oh, it’s nothing. But where are you? You’re not hiding, are you?”

[I’m here.]

The Saintess could send telepathy as both voice and text. This time, it was text.

[ → → → ]

[ ← ← ← ]

[ ↓ ↓ ↓ ]

I followed her directions. And there it was—a potato.

“……?”

[Yes, I’m here.]

I tilted my head. As if equipped with a sensor, the potato rolled following my gaze.

“……???”

[Here.]

I tilted my head the other way. The potato rolled again, following my gaze. I performed a sanity check. The dice in my mind rolled, and I succeeded. Realization struck me like a lightning bolt.

“…Saintess?”

[Yes.]

“Please tell me this isn’t true.”

The potato performed an amazing feat. It rolled in place, then stopped upright. This was ‘standing.’ According to potato behavior studies, this slight nod corresponded to a ‘bow.’ What the hell.

[Sorry. I’ve turned into a potato.]

The Saintess had turned into a potato.

Despite the bizarre development of ‘a comrade turning into a potato,’ I maintained my composure. Even for a regressor who had picked countless deaths, this was not easy.

[Thank you for helping. I tried to handle it alone, but I kept worrying about not being able to feed the fish.]

“…….”

Does a potato have feelings? I suppressed my scholarly urge to ask. That wasn’t easy either. I cleaned the fish tanks and fed the tropical fish for her. After the chores, I calmly had a one-on-one conversation with the Saintess. Well, I placed a cushion on the table, put the potato on it, and matched its gaze. Where exactly was the potato’s gaze? Moreover, the potato had sprouted eyes that were blue, reflecting the Saintess’s hair color. I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Saintess, I’m not sure if this is appropriate, but… How did you turn into a potato?”

[It’s likely due to an anomaly’s curse.]

Of course, it was an anomaly’s doing.

[I believe I’m under a curse.]

Naturally, it was a curse.

[I want to assure you that my mind and consciousness are intact. The anomaly seems to only affect my physical form.]

“What’s the cause? Did you visit a forbidden place, or anger the spirits by burning hundreds of potatoes in a bonfire?”

[No. I did have a bug fly into my eye during a walk a few days ago.]

“A bug in your eye?”

[Yes, just a flying insect. Aside from that minor incident, there’s no obvious cause.]

It was maddening. To cut to the chase, even as an experienced regressor, I couldn’t cure the Saintess’s potato state. Four days of attempts all failed. Don’t blame my incompetence. No regressor from any story could have solved it.

[Mr. Undertaker, it’s okay.]

Surprisingly, the one who should be most upset was the calmest. Although she had no head to lose or legs to leap, the Saintess was too composed. Speaking from my shoulder bag, the potato Saintess said:

[Acting as a constellation, monitoring awakeners, and sending telepathy all function normally.]

“Excuse me, but your current form raises serious doubts about the concept of normal.”

[So far, no issues have arisen.]

Indeed. Remarkably, even in this state, she continued her ‘constellation duties’ as usual. I became the first human in history to feel respect for a potato. Not a title I wished to hold.

“Any discomfort?”

[No. Just help with my fish occasionally. Oh, and…]

The potato peeked out of the bag. How? I had no idea.

[My body feels a bit dry.]

“…Well, you are a potato.”

[No, I mean it craves soil, water, and sunlight. It’s hard to explain, but I feel it. Could you help?]

“Hmm.”

At this point, my mind finally snapped. Those who knew me well knew that when I reached my limit, I let go. If you can’t avoid it, enjoy it. If you can’t enjoy it, pass it on.

“Of course, I’ll help.”

Enjoying mode, ON. I immediately took the potato Saintess to Noh Do-hwa, the head of management.

“What the hell is this…?”

Noh Do-hwa’s expression, after hearing the whole story, was priceless. It was so priceless that you could make a webtoon just to showcase it. Seeing her facial muscles twitch made my troubles feel lighter. After all, why should I suffer alone?

“This is the Saintess? Really? Undertaker, you expect me to believe this?”

“The Saintess’s telepathic messages in your head are proof.”

“Why… Why does this crazy stuff happen…?”

“We don’t know the cause either. More importantly, Noh Do-hwa, your skill is [Prosthetic Creation], right?”

Noh Do-hwa frowned deeply. Being a civil servant, the phrase “You’re good at making PPTs, right?” made her eyebrows twitch.

“Yes, and…?”

“Your prosthetics move like real limbs. The Saintess is still an awakener. If you make prosthetics for the potato…”

“So now you want me to make potato prosthetics? Do you want to die?”

“Why? Are you a potato hater?”

“No, you idiot. How am I supposed to make prosthetics for a potato…?”

She made it. After 15 days of work, the Saintess’s custom prosthetics were born. They resembled the StarCraft Goliath or the tripods from Spielberg’s War of the Worlds. Either way, it was too futuristic for modern humans. A sleek body with robotic arms and legs, with a potato seated inside.

“Saintess, how does it feel? Does it move like your limbs?”

[Just a moment.]

Creak—

Amazingly, the robotic limbs moved properly. The ‘potato robot’ could walk bipedally.

[Yes, it moves well.]

“Wow!”

I cheered in the lab. It was emotional. What biologist could have guessed that the next species to master bipedalism after primates would be potatoes?

“Noh Do-hwa, it’s a success! This is a groundbreaking discovery for humanity!”

[Thank you so much, Ms. Noh Do-hwa. Thanks to you, I can live normally.]

“……”

Despite our heartfelt gratitude, Noh Do-hwa remained silent. Her eyes were lifeless.

“Damn it, you still expect me to believe you’re not anomalies but real humans…?”

“Of course. Who else cares for people like we do?”

“Damn. You’re definitely anomalies…”

Creak— Creak— While Noh Do-hwa and I talked, the Saintess continually tested the robotic joints.

[Hmm.]

The potato Saintess wobbled slightly. Maybe it was just my imagination, but she seemed very pleased.

Footnotes:

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