NOVEL NEXT Chapter 48
Survivor I
Excuse me, but what do you feel when you hear words like 'Student Council' or 'Student Council President' in creative works?
You might wonder why I’m asking such an abrupt question.
It’s because it's relevant to this story.
As mentioned at the end of the last story, the martial world is full of eccentrics.
The person I will introduce today is also an eccentric, proudly placing his name among the 'Great Figures Who Illuminated the Korean Peninsula.'
In the distant past, South Korea used to boast about having certain football players and idols.
From the 'Grand Witch who forces her subordinates to wear conical hats 365 days a year on a train' to the 'Marquess who turns Mount Hua into a mountain of flowers,' and so on.
It was a lineup that could not help but make one's heart swell with pride. Is this really the state of the Korean Peninsula?
This land, which could even be described as a haven for lunatics, or rather, great figures, has not ceased to be blessed. There was yet another figure I had not had a chance to introduce.
Name, Cheon Yo-hwa.
Occupation, reflecting the trend that it’s tough to get by on just one job these days, a multi-Awakener juggling multiple jobs.
First job, high school student.
As the nation collapsed, so did public education, reducing children who register on internet communities to unemployed, unable to select 'elementary/middle/high school student' as their occupation.
In that sense, Cheon Yo-hwa was one of the last high school students left in the Korean Peninsula. Roughly equivalent to a high school 6th grader.
This alone would be considered a rare occupation of SSR-grade in games, but their other job was a bit more unique.
Second job, Necromancer.
Cheon Yo-hwa was the only necromancer on the Korean Peninsula.
Since we're on the topic of high school, the Korean Peninsula no longer had 'school ties.'
It was inevitable. What good does a fancy university degree do if monsters don't care about your education when they eat you?
However, human systems don't change easily. If there's no bread, eat cake; if there are no football players, suck up to Awakeners instead of athletes; and in place of school ties, a new form of connection was quickly installed.
“Hmm?”
One day, as I was making my rounds in the guild, I witnessed a shocking scene.
“Wow, really?”
“Yes, really. Ahaha.”
It was Seo Gyu and Sim Ah-ryeon (the villain OldManGoryeo) laughing together while having lunch in a restaurant.
As everyone knows, Seo Gyu had anger management issues and Sim Ah-ryeon was a serious social media addict.
Both of them had a bit of a flaw in their DNA that made establishing close relationships with other homo sapiens a bit of a challenge.
It was a scene reminiscent of a hippo and a crocodile amiably sipping from the same oasis waterhole, and, as any reasonable person who witnesses a miracle, I too was overwhelmed with curiosity.
“When did you two become friends?”
Blink, blink.
The question from their guild leader, who was as eminent as the sky, made them look at each other.
“Us?”
“Yeah, we’ve just been friends…”
Are they dating?
In my mind, two spirits clashed: the old-school desire to frown upon workplace romances and the old-school joy of watching young love.
“No, hyung, whatever you’re thinking, it’s definitely not that…”
“So how did you become friends?”
“How we became friends?”
Seo Gyu spoke as if it were obvious.
“Well, we're both from 'Busan Station.'”
“What.”
Indeed.
Nowadays, instead of school ties, Awakeners sized each other up by which 'Void' they were in when they awakened.
If we had to give it a name, maybe Void Connection? It was a connection related to place, so it was still a form of connection.
Seo Gyu, Sim Ah-ryeon, and I, we all awakened at Busan Station. Even the man who shall not be named, the Master of Hypnosis 'G,' was from Busan Station. Later on, by the 555th cycle, Oh Dok-seo also joined the Busan Station Awakener family.
“You don’t mean... the Awakeners are treating Busan Station like some kind of prestigious university, do you?”
“Why not? Of course, we receive that kind of treatment. Hyung, we’re number one in the Void.”
“...…”
I was shocked.
You little brats, without me, all of you would have been stranded at Busan Station or dead in a monster’s stomach within three weeks!
In fact, all those from Busan Station died by the third cycle. Even Seo Gyu, the fastest man, set a record for the shortest escape by the 50th cycle.
These little twerps… prestigious?
“Hey, you wet-behind-the-ears kids. What kind of ridiculous void connection is that! If you have time for such nonsense, you should be focusing on aura training, you're really showing off.”
“Hyung, why does every word you say sound so seasoned…”
“That’s strange, isn’t it? If it weren’t for that, you probably would have been quite popular…”
Even as their guild leader lectured them, their faces remained nonchalant.
‘Ah, the old man is at it again,’ their expressions seemed to say.
My head spun and I struggled to breathe. I'm the Infinite Regressor. Destined (or not) to save the world. Should I really be treated like this?
“Guild leader... I think it's natural to consider the Void Connection.”
“What are you talking about, Ah-ryeon?”
“……”
Sim Ah-ryeon’s expression changed to 'Ah, the old man is trying to follow old trends again,' but he quickly shrank back under my gaze.
“Well, it’s terrifying when you first drop into the Void...? Phones don’t work, bizarre creatures keep popping up, people are dying left and right... The Void Connection is about comrades who have struggled through the same hellish ordeal together. Wouldn’t that make you feel a deep bond...?”
“Hmm.”
“It’s not just our guild, I think all guilds would feel the same way...”
Upon hearing it again, Sim Ah-ryeon’s logic didn’t seem so absurd.
“I didn’t struggle, though?”
“...…”
“Why? Got something to say, Ah-ryeon?”
“No, guild leader...”
I spoke jokingly, but I was actually serious. This was the decisive reason why I could not sympathize with the latest trend of Void Connections.
Yes, I didn’t feel like I suffered in the same place, at the same time as these guys.
I struggled alongside Old Man Scho.
To me, the Void was less 'Busan Station' and more this 'world' itself.
Challenge, die, regress, and challenge again. A dungeon striving for completion through countless cycles.
Therefore, I could only feel a strong camaraderie with Old Man Scho, who had a regressor's skill just like me.
Of course, now there was no such thing as camaraderie. When the hell was this no-show old-timer going to return from his leave? I might as well smack him dead.
"Just out of curiosity, which is the most famous connection spot among Awakeners?"
"Huh? Busan Station."
"No, not that one."
"Not that one? Umm..."
Sim Ah-ryeon grunted before responding.
"...Then, perhaps, Baekwha Girls’ High School?"
"Ah."
Baekwha Girls’ High School.
A private school by that name existed.
Perhaps some of you have heard of the school name. Whenever posts like 'List of Schools with the Prettiest Uniforms in Korea' popped up on internet communities, Baekwha Girls' High was often mentioned.
I don’t know if the uniforms are actually pretty since I’m not interested in uniforms.
But I could admit that they were objectively unique.
Our uniforms here feature traditional sailor outfits, rare in Korea.
-Our uniform's ribbon is the pride of Baekwha!
Such a ridiculous phrase was passed down among students through generations, a truly curious tradition.
In the neighboring Japan, this style of uniform was still actively flaunted, but the trend of sailor suits, despite their naval inspirations, never crossed the Korea Strait.
Yet, Baekwha Girls’ High adopted the J-uniform (strictly speaking, it originated in Britain) for a surprisingly simple reason.
The school itself was built during the 1920s under Japanese colonial rule.
Baekwha Girls’ High boasted a rather long history. And like most schools of its kind, to its alumni, it was regarded as a 'prestigious high,' but to outsiders, it was seen as 'Hmm, is that all?'
In short, other than the fact that the uniform was a sailor suit and they had a boarding system, it was a common humanities high school widespread in South Korea.
In such an ordinary school, there was a boarding house, but students were advised by seniors not to enter unless necessary. The number of students admitted to prestigious universities was somewhat short compared to its long history, so during the college entrance exam season, the granite school gates were even more clamorously and fervently adorned with banners celebrating admissions to (especially) Seoul National University.
-Huh? Why won't the gate open?
-The security guard isn't here either. Let's ask a teacher.
The Void arrived.
-Huh?
-Wait. Where are the teachers?
-What’s going on...?
The school gates closed.
It was a typical closed-type Void.
However, the duration of closure was not typical. The gates of Baekwha Girls' High did not open for 11 months.
That year, Baekwha Girls' High did not produce a single university entrance exam passer.
In the nearly year-long closed environment, I don't know what tragedies the students of Baekwha Girls' High might have suffered.
I was an outsider, after all.
All I could gather were the 'numbers' observed from the outside.
About 750 students enrolled.
After 11 months, 19 survivors.
After 12 months, 17 survivors. Two had committed suicide.
"Ah, it was actually a bit longer than 11 months!"
I had the chance to talk to a survivor much later, and this is what they testified.
"It was longer?"
"Yep-Yep. You know, sometimes the flow of time changes, right? Space shifts wildly too. Ahaha. I guess our school was one of those cases!"
The survivor's face seemed uncreased. I once heard that when people accept unhappiness, they do so either with their faces or with their hearts.
"So, how long did you feel you were trapped in the school?"
"Ah, four years!"
Some might call this a tragedy.
Out of over 750 trapped, only 19 survived, and of those, two more took their own lives.
But I dare say it was an 'achievement.'
In my first regression at Busan Station, I was the only survivor. There were plenty of cases where everyone trapped in a Void perished.
That ordinary high school students, completely isolated from the outside in a jar of solitude, enduring what felt like four years but was 11 months, and surviving in double digits—it was almost a miracle, wasn't it?
"Hey, a miracle? Undertaker sunbae, you’re exaggerating—"
And in the center of all miracles, there’s always a hero.
Thank you for the clarification. Let's correct that part about Cheon Yo-hwa:
In this case, the unique and foremost necromancer of the Korean Peninsula, the Awakener we will focus on today, Cheon Yo-hwa, was that heroine.
"Go, go Baekwha Girls’ High! Fighting!"
"Fighting—!"
The 17 survivors rallied around Cheon Yo-hwa.
…No, to speak more objectively, more precisely, the description above needs to be revised.
Cheon Yo-hwa made the 17 survivors rally around her.
I may mention it in another episode, but Cheon Yo-hwa had such a talent.
Interpersonal skills. Organizational formation skills. The skill to read and manipulate human psychology. The skill to break down the walls around a person's heart. The skill to choose the appropriate space and time. Mediation skills. The skill to resolve conflicts within the organization and project unresolved conflicts outward.
Cheon Yo-hwa wielded all these abilities as if she had been bestowed with them from a divine moment.
As a result.
"President."
"Student Council President."
"President Cheon Yo-hwa."
To the survivors of Baekwha Girls’ High, 'Baekwha' was no longer just the name of their alma mater.
It was a school connection, a place connection. According to modern trends, it was a Void Connection, and perhaps even stronger than a blood relation.
Over four years, Cheon Yo-hwa secured 17 Awakeners who would throw their lives away for her on the street.
And with them, she stepped back into the world.
Footnotes:
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