Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint (Web Novel KR)

I made my literary debut when I was twenty-three.
「Announcement of the 24th New Writers’ Prize. Winning work: The Origin of Memory. Author: Lee Hak-hyun.」
It wasn’t because I had some extraordinary talent and debuted early.
Honestly, how much can someone that age really know and write about?
That hazy hostility toward the world that any young person is apt to have, the youthful bravado, and sentences like half-dried squid—awkwardly aping established writers.
There were literary folks who rated such things highly, and that year, I was simply lucky enough to be the one so rated.
Of course, my luck ended there, and after that I was quickly forgotten by the world. To be precise—
“He thus walked toward his own origin. I like that sentence.”
—I thought I’d been forgotten.
Until this person appeared.
“I liked the works that came after that, too. The Origin of Faith, The Origin of Lies… the Origin Trilogy.”
“They aren’t well-known. How do you know them?”
Exactly three pieces.
Someone who had read every short story I’d been commissioned to write.
I was stunned that such a reader existed at all.
“There were always out-of-season literary journals among the donated books at the orphanage.”
Orphanage.
At that word that slipped out so naturally, I secretly drew in a breath.
“I used to ask my brother to read me any old novel from the stacks, and the first one he read me was that story in the literature journal.”
“I see.”
“Have you read that story?”
I nodded and answered,
“It’s a story about a protagonist who lies about his childhood.”
“That’s the highlight.”
“I can’t tell the whole thing.”
If I told it all here, the constellations listening would all fall asleep.
[Constellation, ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon,’ snorts, asking what on earth you’re talking about.]
[An unnamed constellation pricks up its ears at the story.]
There are, of course, constellations with maniac tastes…
After a moment’s thought, I added a little flesh to the tale for the maniacs.
“The Origin of Memory is about a writer who fabricates his ‘childhood’ to sell books and give lectures. Will that do for an explanation?”
It was my first time talking about my debut work to someone else; it felt strange.
Like prodding me along, LiteratureGirl64 said,
“Tell me what comes next.”
I didn’t know why she wanted to hear a story she’d already read, but I continued anyway.
“In the end, the protagonist’s con is discovered by an old classmate and exposed online.”
“Right. And I found the protagonist’s reaction then interesting: ‘No one is harmed by my having such a past. Doesn’t everyone have the right to their own story?’”
I answered, impressed,
“You remember the line exactly.”
“I also liked how, in the ending, the protagonist’s lie turns out to be the truth.”
“I recall leaving that part a little ambiguous, though.”
“It isn’t ambiguous. It turns out the classmate who exposed him on the internet had actually mistaken the protagonist for someone else. Since the story that no one remembers is remembered only by the protagonist, the only one with the right to hope for the origin of memory is the protagonist himself.”
Listening to her coherent thoughts, I suddenly remembered the time I’d written that story.
I was always hollow somehow, always wondering where I’d come from and for what I existed.
There was a time when I wrote sentences to find that out.
“The later works had a similar tenor. They always dealt with ‘lies’ or ‘origin,’ which I found intriguing. I wish the author had kept writing.”
Oh, I kept writing.
After a brief pause to think, she went on.
“I read all the webnovels that author wrote, too.”
“Even the webnovels?”
“My brother grumbled endlessly when I asked him to read them to me… but later he got really into reading them himself.”
“Wh—which webnovels.”
“Orc Philosopher.”
The instant the title of my first, abjectly failed webnovel came out of her mouth, I wondered if all of this was just a hallucination conjured by my paranoia.
“Looking back, I think the author didn’t really know what a webnovel was when he wrote it.”
No hallucination could offer an assessment that accurate.
“Warden of Infinity. The metaphors were a little simple, but still…”
It felt like someone kept chopping off my head and sticking it back on.
“The Wizard of the World That Wouldn’t End. He trains hard, expecting the world’s apocalypse to come, but no matter how long he waits, it never does, so he sets out to destroy the world himself…”
“……”
“And then…”
She kept sharing her thoughts about the novels I’d written.
Sometimes she paused to choose her words.
Method Master, System Breaker…
Was this how Kim Dokja felt when his secret tastes were exposed to his companions?
“How to Become a Star Author…”
When even the title I’d briefly erased from memory popped out, I felt on the verge of fainting.
“Some parts felt like memoir, but I liked it. I figured it would end up discontinued, though.”
Surprisingly, she had mostly favorable opinions of my previous works.
Except for one. A single work.
“You didn’t like Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint… did you?”
Why did I ask that?
I don’t know.
Maybe I’d been waiting all along for this moment—to ask someone this question.
“Not that I disliked it.”
She took about twenty seconds to choose her words, then continued,
“It didn’t feel like it was written by that same author.”
I kept my mouth shut and listened.
“In every other work, the author felt vivid, but in that one work alone, the author felt like just a spectator to the story.”

For an instant, too many thoughts surged in and out.
Only then did I realize I had been preparing for this moment all along.
「So this story really isn’t a story I wrote.」
I had simply been waiting.
To hear, in someone else’s cool words, a truth I already knew.
I hid my dejection and asked,
“You must have been disappointed.”
“I wasn’t disappointed.”
Her expression didn’t change at all.
“It’s just that my brother liked that story more, and I liked the author’s other stories more. That’s all.”
“……”
“Come to think of it, my brother said this: maybe the author, like us, possessed someone in this world.”
At that offhand remark, I started, then smiled as if nothing were amiss.
“Maybe so.”
“I hope the author is alive.”
The long thirty minutes were nearly over. Looking up at the clock hanging in the air, she finished,
“Because I still have to ask when the next story will be written.”
For a moment, I wondered if that expression on her face now was the highlight of this scenario.
***
[You have entered Ground Floor 7.]
We kept climbing the theater, watching our step.
With all that had happened, an hour had already passed. We had to clear the dungeon within the remaining hour. If not, Killer King would be in danger.
Judging by the atmosphere, the fight on the roof still hadn’t been decided.
After we passed a slew of shredded posters and kept moving—
At last we reached the door to Floor 8—the “Sky Garden.”
But—
“Huh?”
The exit to the 8th floor was blocked.
The exit was covered in white crystals reminiscent of a citadel. I quickly realized what they were.
[Steel Transformation].
They were clearly traces of [Steel Transformation].
Either Lee Hyunsung himself, or someone using his Stigma, had blocked the door.
Judging by the crystal growth, [Steel Transformation] was in a very early stage. The thickness was thin.
LiteratureGirl64 activated [Baekcheonganggi] and rapped the door as a test.
Kagang!
Even with [Baekcheonganggi], it left only the faintest scratch.
So even early on, [Steel Transformation] had unusual durability.
“There is a way.”
She spoke in a calm voice.
“But I can’t do it alone.”
I wondered what she meant. Pounding together didn’t seem like it would break that.
“Are you good at games?”
Ah.
[Incarnation, ‘Lee Seyon,’ activates ‘Versus Action Mode’!]
So that’s what she meant.
[Incarnation, ‘Lee Seyon,’ temporarily transfers the ‘Command Controller’ to you.]
A coin slot popped up before my eyes. After I fed in 300 coins, a controller identical to the one Killer King had used materialized in front of me.
[‘Command Control’ is activated.]
I gently set down Jung Heewon, whom I’d been carrying, and took the controller in my hands.
“I’m not confident… Do I just do what Mr. Killer King did?”
She shook her head.
“At that thickness, you need a finisher.”
She told me the command for the technique and added,
“My brother practiced it over and over, but he failed.”
Just hearing the command, I could guess why he failed. Not only timing—the sequence was absurdly complex.
“Did you memorize it?”
“Roughly.”
“Roughly won’t do. If you mess up, your meridians will twist and you’ll die.”
She said something terrifying in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Can I practice alone?”
“I’ll give you three minutes.”
With that, she sat cross-legged and closed her eyes. She seemed to be focusing all her mana.
I let out a light breath and looked down at the controller.
Am I good at games?
I don’t know. Maybe average. If I had to pick an online-game tier… Gold, perhaps.
Yeah, I know.
Of course, that won’t cut it.
Killer King had top-tier control skills. Even he hadn’t pulled this off; what were the odds I could?
But—
「I know someone who can.」
She opened her eyes and asked,
“Memorized?”
“Memorized.”
“Then let’s begin.”
I had the command down.
The problem was the timing.
And not making a mistake.
She took the preparatory stance for a straight punch. I felt quiet mana gather into her right fist.
I focused on the flow of mana she was emitting.
And I recited the finisher command.
「From here on, I am…」
I imagined.
[Exclusive skill, ‘Agitation Lv.6,’ activates!]
Someone who plays games better than anyone I know.
「Pro gamer Yoo Joonghyuk.」
In that moment, a new world opened in my mind. The world turned like a simulation; the flow of time ticked slower by a hair.
[Your imagination activates to its limit.]
As if glimpsing the future, every variable around us fell into place before my eyes.
I’d be no match for the real pro gamer Yoo Joonghyuk, of course—but could I mimic him?
The current in her fist, the path her fist would take, the burst of mana at the impact point—
Blood trickled from my nose.
I worked the command.
Her fist moved. White-blue mana whirled; her straight punch pierced space like a lightning bolt and detonated at the center of the door.
I hadn’t asked the technique’s name, but I knew what Killer King would have called it.
「Baekcheong Collapse Fist.」
Yes, that would be it.
KWA-AAAAANG!
Amid a deafening roar, the crystals of Steel Transformation shattered.
Beyond the broken door, I glimpsed the roof.
[You have successfully executed a Finisher Command!]
[Versus Action Mode is released.]
[Battle Score: Chain score 92! Are you a pro gamer hiding your power?]
Along with the messages, she grabbed my shoulder.
“Wait.”
The instant I saw how pale she was, I knew what had happened.
The technique had succeeded, but her meridians were twisted. No doubt because I wasn’t truly “Pro Gamer Yoo Joonghyuk.”
“Rest and I’ll be fine. But from here on, it’ll be hard to help.”
Breathing hard, she looked me in the eye.
[Incarnation ‘Lee Seyon’ activates the skill ‘Secret Transmission Lv.1.’]
Secret Transmission.
A skill that lets you pass on an S-grade-or-lower skill to another person, exactly once.
“I meant to give it to my brother. But I think ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) you should take it.”
[You have received a skill by transmission from Incarnation ‘Lee Seyon.’]
“Please save my brother.”
“Wait. This is—”
I grabbed at her in a hurry, but she was already unconscious.
I laid her beside Jung Heewon, then slowly turned toward the door.
From beyond the broken door, I felt a disturbing surge of mythic resonance. My hands and feet tingled; the nape of my neck ran cold.
A deep fear and anticipation swelled together, like when you write the first sentence on a blank page.
Even before ‘□□’ activated, I knew instinctively.
「Beyond that door, I might die.」
Breathing steadily, warmth returned to my fingertips. Before that warmth faded, I summoned to mind my skills, my items, and my sentences.
「Knowing that, Lee Hak-hyun stepped forward.」
It was the only sentence I could write now.
I took a great stride and stepped onto the roof.
[You have entered Ground Floor 8, the ‘Sky Garden.’]
The 8th floor was exactly as described in the main story.
A small dome like an opera house, encircled by an opaque shell.
「The moment my foot touched the grassy roof, I saw the back of the regressor I had sought so long.」
“Yoo Joonghyuk?”
Before I knew it, my pace quickened.
Yoo Joonghyuk of the 41st regression.
The protagonist who hunted a 7th-grade monster at the very start, and in the previous round even surpassed a myth-grade constellation.
That Yoo Joonghyuk stood frozen like a mannequin.
His pupils were sunk into a deep void; the bloodless, blanched lips told me at once—
「Yoo Joonghyuk had lost.」
I brought a finger under his nose—he was still breathing. No major external wounds. He’d been hit by a mental-type skill.
Tzzzzzt…
Sparks crackled here and there.
I looked around the edge of the Sky Garden.
As expected, there sat the owner of this Theater Dungeon—Simulacion.
[‘The Theater Owner, Simulacion,’ reveals itself.]
A boss specialized in mental-type skills.
But something was off.
Yoo Joonghyuk was weak to mental attacks, true. But by the 41st regression, he wouldn’t be taken down this helplessly by Simulacion.
Creak, creak.
Looking closer, Simulacion sitting on the bench also had unfocused eyes, like a broken toy.
Story. Story. Story. Story.
Like an old film projector, Simulacion’s mouth clattered as it made sounds.
Peering through the backlight, I saw someone clutching Simulacion’s head.
A shadow pressed in like deeply struck type.
I followed the shadow, raising my gaze slowly.
A pageant of pressure that crushed the surroundings.
I didn’t trust myself to face the owner of that shadow.
「Some books overwhelm you before you even open them.」
Biting my lip hard, I slowly lifted my head.
I was already here. If I didn’t open the book, the story would never begin.
I forced my head up under the weight—and there lay the first sentence.
“You’re already here?”
A lofty voice, as if the story of this world didn’t interest her in the slightest.
“I looked down on it because it was only your 41st regression. Not bad.”
Between the wavering backlight, I saw the face of the person I had imagined for so long.
「She is the author who wrote every sentence of this world.」
I spoke the author’s name.
“Han Sooyoung.”