Chapter 17: The Internationalist ⅠⅠⅠ

The heart is often likened to fire, burning with passion. But in my case, 'water' was more often a suitable metaphor. Ever since the 89th cycle was severed by the red flash caused by Go Yuri, my inner well had dried up. This is commonly referred to as burnout—a slump invariably faced by every regressor at some point.

"Annihilation, huh..."

"If Samcheon is gone, doesn't that leave only Baekhwa as the top guild in Korea?"

"No, those body stackers are a bit... Well, it's even questionable whether they are a guild."

"After all, the void suppression failed. I looked up at the night sky yesterday, and it was chilling."

Upon collecting and cremating Dang Seo-rin's remains and scattering them at the beach, I returned to find Awakeners whispering under the parasols outside the convenience store. For some reason, their murmuring sounded to me like the trickling of water.

The sound of water led to one object.

This coffee shop has great coffee.

—Samcheon, Dang Seo-rin

A wine-colored thousand-won bill.

I transferred the bill signed by the Samcheon guild leader into an acrylic case and displayed it at the convenience store counter, where the cigarettes were usually displayed. Our underground warehouse had recently started bottoming out on its supplies. Alcohol and cigarettes were the first resources to become scarce, so there was plenty of space to display the bill.

Naturally, customers could view the exhibit each time they passed the counter.

One day, the Mount Hwa old man pointed out, "Sir, what in the world is that ominous item? I can feel an unusual energy from it."

"Oh, that? It's a signature left by the Samcheon guild leader before she went off to strike down a meteor shower."

"Hmm..."

The old man grunted and left the convenience store.

The next day, he placed a ten-thousand-won bill on the counter to buy his usual bottle of green makgeolli.

"Sir, this is an orchid I drew myself."

"Orchid? What about an orchid?"

"Look closely at the drawing."

I did.

Beyond King Sejong's sturdy shoulders, an actual orchid was depicted.

"...?"

Frankly, the drawing was terrible. If Heungseon Daewongun had seen it, he might have mistaken it for pineapple leaves.

However, the old man had put some effort into it, as a tiny signature that read 'Sword Marquess of Yuldoguk' was squeezed into a corner of a cabbage leaf. Sword Marquess seemed quite proud of his work, hmph-ing out of his nose. The only feature of his that was worthy of commendation was his fluttering mustache.

"Please, hang it in your store like a banner."

"..."

Well, it didn't really matter.

I displayed Sword Marquess's bill alongside the other without much thought, but that, apparently, set a precedent.

Visitors to my convenience store began indiscriminately offering bills with their signatures scribbled across them.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm heading out with the raid team, if it's not too much trouble, could you...?"

"I'll come again next time! Please give a 2+1 discount then!"

"Really, c'mon, can't I buy a carton of cigarettes? Please?"

When all I had was the relic of the Samcheon guild leader, it had been handled with the utmost care, but with the addition of Sword Marquess's bill, the display suddenly felt more casual.

The currencies left by Awakeners varied widely. Old five-thousand-won bills, two-dollar bills, East German marks (these were the most fascinating), yen, euros, pounds, Mongolian tugrik, Hong Kong dollars, Vietnamese dong, Philippine pesos, North Korean won, Indian and Nepalese rupees...

Before I knew it, the area behind my counter was filled with bills.

Occasionally, when I had time, I would quietly observe the exhibition.

Every time a bill filled the gaping holes in the cigarette display like new bricks in a crumbling wall, I felt as if my inner well was slightly replenishing.

If life is ultimately a journey to leave behind a single photograph, perhaps my 90th portrait would look like that sight.

"Comrade Manager..."

"Hm?"

Fairy Number 264 set down a box of Zero Drinks. Under the Saemaul hat, her expression looked utterly deflated. "This is the last box of Zero Drinks," she said with a huff.

"I see. What about the alcohol?"

"Beer, soju, whiskey, wine, makgeolli, sake... After scraping everything we have together, there are only 50 bottles left, and that's not accounting for the scarcity of type. This fairy is ashamed to say that the funding for alcohol has dried up..."

It wasn't just alcohol; the supply of nearly all of our stocked items had been depleted. There was no such thing as an eternally flowing oasis, after all. But what of it? Have you ever seen a tree that refuses to cast shade because it fears the day it will rot?

"Here." I took out a Heaven's Champion sausage, causing Fairy Number 264's ears to perk up at the sight. For some reason unknown to me, fairies swooned over this particular sausage.

"Ah! This fairy thought all the sausages were gone!"

"Eat it away from the others where they can't see."

"You're the only one who thinks of Number 264...!"

I patted Fairy Number 264 on the head. "Call everyone together and let's clear out all the remaining alcohol."

"Yes, comrade!"

I gathered the customers.

I could have easily invited Awakeners through an internet community, but unfortunately, that was no longer possible.

[Unable to connect to the site.]

Seo Gyu's 'Hunter Community' had been shut down some time ago. He had likely died somewhere unknown to me.

Go Yuri probably died as well. After all, she was an entity that couldn't survive without mimicking others.

The fairies walked door to door gathering people, and still, only about a hundred participants turned up for the party. Not quite satisfying, but enough people to enjoy the 50 bottles of alcohol.

'Isn't the Saintess coming?'

Awakeners laughed, chatted, sang, and enjoyed themselves.

They also had their own stashes of supplies, so the party wasn't a dud. Surprisingly, an Awakener who brought 11 bottles of Château d'Yquem from 1990 became an instant hero in human history.

The mood reached its peak.

"I say we form a guild with everyone gathered here!"

"Oh!"

"The Last Guild! To commemorate its formation, let's set off for the meteor shower gate after tonight's party!"

"This isn't a guild, it's a final gathering..."

The Awakeners who had survived without dying or being kicked out of their guilds were either stubborn loners or outcasts with social issues. However, as the final moments approached, they united for the party. Well, the influence of 11 bottles of Château d'Yquem might have played a significant role.

"Manager! Aren't you coming with us?"

I shook my head. "There's still one customer I haven't said goodbye to. I'll hang around here for a bit after you all leave."

"Ah, if only you were there, we could last another 30 seconds."

"Maybe even three minutes?"

"Come on, let's sign up quickly!"

People chuckled.

The high ceiling of the sky seemed to echo even louder than usual that night.

Using my many long years of experience living through regressions, I sensed that the apocalypse was now upon us.

Thus, the day after the Last Supper, I called all the fairy clerks together, until forty little ones wearing Che Guevara T-shirts were crowded into a room.

I stood in front of them and declared, "Today is a holiday."

There was a gasp.

The fairies blinked.

"Does a holiday mean no work?"

"Work reflects human value, but a holiday is an act of abandoning one's value. It's an utterly foreign concept."

"Excuse this fairy for saying, but doesn't it depend on whether it's a paid or unpaid holiday?"

I chuckled and handed each fairy a fifty-thousand-won bill. "Don't worry. It's a paid holiday."

The bills all bore my signature.

Secretary-General and Chairman and Manager of the Sixth International.

The fairies' eyes sparkled.

"Wow! Comrade Manager's handwritten signature!"

"How deeply moving!"

"This should be legislated to hang in frames in every public office!"

"Sure, do as you like," I said. "Anyway, I'll be watching the store alone today, so take a good rest and come back."

"Yes!"

The fairies, raising their red flags, scurried off somewhere. And so, I was left alone.

As I was mopping the floor in the now-quiet store, the glass door opened with a tinkle.

"Welcome, dear customer."

"..."

It was the Saintess, the last customer I had been waiting for.

She quietly looked around the store. Several shelves were empty, as if teeth had been plucked out. Signs reading "Temporarily out of stock—Please wait for a restock" were attached to those shelves.

The Saintess murmured, "Restocking is taking a long time."

"Yes. I've been pressing the headquarters continuously, but it seems to be a difficult ask."

"...I see." The Saintess did not argue with my words and simply nodded.

The apocalypse had surged right up to us, and yet, the Saintess had not died. Not just this cycle. She had almost 'always' survived until the last day.

Her attachment to life was a bit different. She had imposed a duty on herself to live.

"Could you make me a cup of coffee?" she asked.

"Understood."

I took the last remaining coffee beans, milk, and sugar and then made a coffee as close to filter coffee as possible.

This was how we at the Sixth International treated our regular customers.

Naturally, I could afford to offer such a service to our very first regular customer.

"..."

"..."

As she drank the coffee, the Saintess said nothing. She just looked with her deep, black eyes at the counter behind me, the shelves inside the store, and outside the window.

Her gaze lingered especially long on the cases of bills.

"Thank you for the coffee, it was delicious. Here, the bill." The Saintess offered a fifty-thousand-won bill. "No need for change. I'll come again."

The back of the bill read, Your first customer.

That day was the last time an Awakener visited the convenience store.

In the middle of the night, I locked up the store and went out to the Han River.

The expanse of the night sky was filled to the brim with the Milky Way. Red light. Green light. Purple light. The Milky Way seemed like a long-torn lip, and within its gaping maw, countless stars twinkled as if they would pour down at any moment.

And then, they did.

The gate that Samcheon and the guild coalition had tried to seal at the cost of their lives had now completely opened, releasing a disaster made of starlight onto the earth.

It was a guaranteed event in Gyeongsangnam-do during the 7th year of regression, and in Seoul during the 12th year. 

It was known as the Meteor Stream.

"So this cycle ends with the Meteor Ending."

I sat on the riverbank, gazing up at the sky. Someone could survive if they avoided it. Still, there was nothing left to do in this cycle if they did.

But there were countless things to do in the next cycle.

'Not a bad vacation.'

I opened my smartphone.

While waiting for the stars to fall, I flipped through the photos saved on my phone.

Originally, I wasn't in the habit of taking pictures. More precisely, as a regressor, I had lost that habit. Although photos were items meant for preservation, they had failed to serve that role for me. However, even knowing they would disappear, I couldn't help but take these photos.

This coffee shop has great coffee. —Samcheon, Dang Seo-rin

Sword Marquess of Yuldoguk.

Thanks for the fun. Lee Ju-ho.

My sincere gratitude. But no matter how I think about it, the store's name and the clerks' shirts are strange. Are you a member of the Red Army? Posted by Uehara Shino.

Visiting on a school trip! Baekhwa Girls' High♡ May our love last a thousand miles forever — by 天寥化.

The way here is too inconvenient. Thought I'd die carrying wine bottles. —NDH

Go Sixth International, fight on! —Sim Ah-ryeon

If you had just sold one carton of cigarettes, it would have been the GOAT... Y

...

Your first customer.

Unbeknownst to me, the corners of my mouth lifted.

Why I had accepted the life of a regressor, who I wanted to help, why I wanted to help them—the reasons now came flooding back to me more clearly than ever before.

Twelve years had been enough to supply the water necessary for a regressor's life. Even if in a hundred years' time, I'd have to take another vacation.

'Hold on. Isn't the Meteor Ending a bit old-fashioned?'

The whole world was flooded with starlight.

It was time to regress.

That day, I retired as the 12-year convenience store manager and rejoined the fray as a regressor.