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

WeTried Translations

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

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The Receiver XI

I was dreaming.

"…Another weird dream."

She sat up and covered her eyes.

"…Haa."

And yet she was still her.

With a light toss of her chin she shook off the nightmare she'd had during the night, then tied her hair back with a band.

Perhaps it was the hang-over from the sleeping pills, but her mind felt slightly murky.

Just as she peeled one of the bananas she had bought yesterday, planning to get breakfast over with, her fingers stopped.

[How curious.]

A voice only she could hear.

[It's always been I who was observed by ■■'s ■■, yet this time I'm the one observing Sain■. The feeling is rather odd.]

[That's not me, it's the past me.]

[Mm. Isn't that even more interesting?]

[I find it embarrassing, though.]

"…"

She frowned.

For several days vivid nightmares had unfolded every time she slept, and now, as if that were not enough, she was beginning to suffer hallucinated voices and visions while awake.

[It seems you still can't properly make out our voices.]

Bzzz—crackle.

Static, broken by noise, rolled round her ears like tinnitus.

[Yes. The me from back then couldn't make it out, either. Even if my ability had already grown into a full authority, I guess the message still isn't clear enough. I'm only sorry.]

[There's no need to apologise. This alone is more than enough.]

[But as for Mr. ■■……]

[If that were possible, the Saintess of today wouldn't exist. I'll leave that part to Dok-■. Proper conversation will be in tonight's dream—]

Bzz-crk, bzzzz.

The tinnitus rose to a peak, then died as though its strength were spent. Only then did she finish peeling the banana and breathe out a sigh.

…In psychopathology, hearing voices is not a good sign.

Humans possess an instinctive sense, distinguishing "outside" from "inside."

Hallucinations arise when that basic line blurs.

In other words, the dream state.

She was, in a sense, sleep-walking while wide awake.

…Maybe, without realising, she was far more cornered than she had thought.

"…"

But it doesn't matter, she told herself.

She tapped open the Calendar app on her smartphone.

The month lay blank—no schedules at all, only empty squares.

She claimed social anxiety, yet played guitar in a band with friends. In a modern society full of lies she alone upheld the true meaning of "outsider."

One square alone was not empty.

[6 June]

[END]

A modest entry. "End." Truly an ending.

Its meaning was literal.

On that day she intended to die.

Her daily routine never changed.

Up before dawn. The moment she rose she ate a banana. A hoodie chosen with no thought for fashion. A jog along the riverside.

Feed for the fish in her aquarium. Feed for herself. Breakfast. Shower. Open the stock app and check the markets. At the same time read finance articles.

Her earnings were likewise fixed; she never made more than a million won in a day.

It was not a task she pursued with burning willpower—merely a habit.

Once, in a beast's frenzy, she had fired her entire fortune like bullets, but at some point she ceased to see meaning in piling up more.

A dopamine detox.

The age of beasts was over; now was the age of sages.

Others might have tried to buy a house on the Han riverside, or clung to some other plausible goal.

She did not.

Yongsan. An old multiplex in Dongbinggo-dong. She had no thought of moving.

Liquidate assets. ON.

The decision was swift.

Of the 9.78 billion won she owned—being in the early or late nine-billion range mattered to her more than one might think—she donated 93% of it.

It was the happiest time she'd had all year.

Perhaps the happiest in her life.

She did not disregard the value of money, she simply refused to let donations flow someplace absurd.

So she spent time and information—choosing seven reliable NGOs, eleven welfare foundations, and one academic group, dividing the money among them.

That "research" took quite a while.

She even posed as a volunteer and inspected orphanages in person, caring above all whether the director was the right sort of person.

Again, she did not despise the value of money.

She despised only her own value.

[Wow, you made ten billion won in stocks? You were soaring even before the world ended, ■■.]

[Please. It's embarrassing, don't react to every bit.]

[No, it's incredible. If Ji-■ had talent like yours she wouldn't need to slave away at modelling.]

[Ah… well, that person refuses to count human emotion as a variable. In a way she's the least suited to the market.]

[I see.]

…Another hallucinated voice.

"Haa."

But the detective game and the anonymous benefactor game ended here.

After wiring the final donation, her heart felt lighter—her bank account, too.

[The truth is, I'm not completely at ease. Right up to the end I worried what to do with my fish.]

[Didn't you find anyone to take them?]

[No. I was… reluctant.]

Crackle, crackle.It was too loud.

With practiced hands she drew out sleeping pills.

Prescription zolpidem—one tablet… no, two. And one barbiturate hypnotic smuggled in through a broker.

"Mmm…"

A ripple of hallucination washed over her, like a pleasant wave. As the bedroom swam before her eyes, her consciousness slid down, down—

and in the next instant,

"Ah."

she realised she had plunged once more into the heart of a nightmare and let out a breath.

"…Why is it you keep showing me nothing but ruins?"

Perhaps it was her resolve to die.

The nightmare was always brimming with death: a city that must be Seoul turned to ashes by a nuclear blast, grotesque monsters slaughtering people.

It unnerved her to think her own unconscious might secretly crave such sights.

[You've come.]

While she gawked at the ruins and carnage like a B-grade movie, a voice rang out.

She turned.

[Can you hear my voice?]

Beneath a fallen wall white "shadows" writhed—look closely and they almost resembled human figures.

One seemed male, the one addressing her now was, perhaps, female.

"Yes, I hear you."

[Good. No matter how I tried while you were awake, my voice wouldn't come through right.]

"Your voice?"

She knitted her brow.

"Sorry, but even now the sounds you're making don't really sound human."

[…]

They were mechanical—

far more unnatural than any AI voice: within the single word "voice" every syllable leapt a different way.

The shadow stirred.

[I know you've decided to die.]

She was not surprised.

It was a nightmare, a dream, an echo of her unconscious.

Anything she knew herself would appear in it.

[But I'd like you to postpone your death, just for a little while.]

"I've delayed it several times already, on the off-chance I might change my mind. It wasn't impulsive. I chose carefully."

[I know.]

"…"

[Even so, please, once more, delay your decision. I beg you.]

A faint awkwardness prickled.

She had never poured her feelings out violently to anyone, yet somehow this white shadow stirred her heart.

"You know this, you know that—amazing. Seems you know an awful lot."

So, uncharacteristically, even in a dream, words close to sarcasm slipped out.

The white shadow hesitated.

[…More than you do now, yes.]

"Must be nice, knowing so much."

[It isn't, really.]

Words spilled from the shadow.

[…No. It isn't. I already know what will come of this conversation, and I have no power to change it.]

[I can't tell you about Mr. ■■■■, or about Mr. ■■■.]

[I can't hand you stories you don't yet know.]

"…"

The shadow writhed.

Perhaps that twisting was it breathing in and out, she thought.

"I can't say I follow, but…"

She stared straight at it.

"Fine. Why do you urge me to live? I understand the possibility—deep in my unconscious there may still be a strong desire for life, so you appear like a lucid dream to show me illusions."

[…]

"So I'd like to hear. If you are my last lingering desire, what joys, what pleasures could possibly lie ahead that make you cling so stubbornly?"

Silence settled.

Meanwhile the dream flowed on—near and far, cities shattered, people died.

Only the white shadows and herself—

set apart from everything like a quiet uninhabited isle.

[…I'm sorry.]

Slowly the shadow parted its lips.

[The life you're going to live… won't be very happy.]

An unexpected answer slipped out.

"Pardon?"

She had thought the dream would lure her with sweet words, telling her life was beautiful.

[You'll do something very noble. Many lives will hang on it.]

[But the work is not as beautiful as you imagined, not as lovely as you hoped.]

The mechanical voice rolled on.

[People aren't consistent.]

[Even someone who rejoices that you saved their life— their gratitude isn't always strong.]

[When they find out you were human, not a ■■, some feel betrayed.]

[Betraying others is easy, betraying oneself is… a little easier.]

[So no one can know you.]

[No one will recognise you.]

"…"

[That is the life you will walk.]

[Even as others manage daily life in a ruined world… daily life won't come to you.]

[Your heart will grow dull.]

[I'm sorry. Before it dulls—while you still have even a little love for the world—you must have wanted to lay this down.]

[I'm sorry for blocking you.]

"…"

Her stomach churned.

[You'll go through many hells.]

[You thought yourself capable—now you'll learn, point by point, where you are powerless.]

[You liked people who smiled beautifully, one of them will kill without a flicker.]

[If your own life is worthless, you at least wished to help others a little, all of it crumbles. Your service, your donations, meant nothing.]

[The world still ends.]

"…"

[Everything will grow worse.]

[The more you know,]

[…the more you see,]

[your heart will shrink.]

[I'm sorry.]

[You were never invincible.]

Her lips parted and closed.

"Then why, in the world…"

A question that had festered in her heart since long ago—

"…are you telling me to live on?"

She could not fathom it.

So she was curious.

"Rather—why are you, who say all this, still alive instead of dying now?"

[…]

The white shadow stirred.

Instinct told her it had closed its eyes, drawn a deep breath—

though it had neither face nor form beyond a pale lump.

[You are going to meet one person. And then—]

The shadow opened its eyes.

[You are going to like that person.]

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