Chapter 200 - The Ugly One III

Have you ever heard of the “Dokseo Paradox”?

Of course you haven't. I coined the term myself.

As I mentioned in this episode, Oh Dokseo fell into an unprecedented slump in run 888.

Resorting to one-click AI generation on the excuse that she couldn't write. Finding a creature as ugly as “Oh Dokseo the writer” in all of literary history would be about as difficult as extracting a line without profanity from Seo Gyu's mouth.

But what about “Oh Dokseo the awakened”?

“Mister.”

“Hm?”

“I'm heading to Seoul for a bit.”

Seven years on hiatus.

Overcome with grief and anguish, SG Net's readers had declared Oh Dokseo public enemy of the martial world.

Whenever BookishGirl so much as appeared on SG Net's general board, readers swarmed over, strengthening their camaraderie by showering her with every filthy insult they could muster.

Oh Dokseo responded by acting out the martial-arts-novel cliché of a protagonist declared a public enemy.

She had “awakened” in the truest sense of the word.

“Why Seoul all of a sudden?”

“Oh, just going to raid Sauron's Tower. Nothing major.”

“... That place is pretty difficult, you know?”

“All the better.”

Oh Dokseo. Hobby: clearing voids.

She left Inunaki Tunnel cheerfully, sounding as though she were stepping out for a stroll, and actually returned after demolishing an entire great void single-handedly.

“Aw, there was a rumor the One Piece treasure was at the top of Sauron's Tower. Total bullshit.”

“...”

“Ahh! Nothing like knocking back an espresso you made after tearing a void a new one, Mister. Makes me think, now this is living!”

“Dokseo.”

“Yeah?”

“That's an expensive coffee cup, so please don't channel aura through it carelessly. If it breaks, I can't get another one anywhere.”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, Mister. I've been keeping a protective sheath of energy up twenty-four hours a day lately. I'm not as used to it as you are yet, so I'm still pretty clumsy!”

“No... You're doing very well indeed. At this point, I couldn't even say who would win if you fought Cheon Yohwa.”

“Oh, come on! I'm not that good yet! Hehe.”

RUMBLE.

Blood-red aura billowed and fluttered around Dokseo's entire body as she beamed.

Conqueror's Haki, plain and simple.

I felt as though a friend who'd joined a gym saying it was time to start looking after their health had suddenly announced they were competing in Mr. Olympia.

A few guild members discreetly excused themselves in the face of that terrifying presence.

“... G-Guild Leader. I'll be going now...”

“... Big brother. Bye.”

Sim Aryeon, who had teased Dokseo at every opportunity until just a few years ago, could no longer even meet her eyes.

Her survival instincts had kicked in: mouth off and she might fucking die.

Hayul was no different. The two trembled like small, cute little creatures.

Dokseo, meanwhile, glanced sidelong at their rout and snorted a derisive “Hah.” Despite the blatant mockery, Aryeon and Lee Hayul fled all the more wretchedly without so much as a word of protest...

I stared at the ceiling and lamented.

'How did it come to this?'

It hadn't started out this way.

[“Mister. I'm going into a void.”]

[“A void? All of a sudden?”]

[“Yeah. I think what I'm lacking as a writer right now is overwhelming experience.”]

Seven years earlier, Dokseo had declared solemnly:

[“Only by entering a battlefield where life and death, reason and anomalies, sunlight and darkness clash violently can I, BookishGirl, finally strike the keys of my typewriter...”]

Dokseo, too, had fallen prey to a delusion shared by many writers: that feeding in sufficiently intense “experiences” would produce proportionately fucking amazing work.

She really did roam the voids like a lunatic. Great voids that no sane person would enter for all the money in the world, she entered of her own free will.

[“This slump! If I can just escape this goddamn fucking slump! I'd sell my soul!”]

It was madness that even ten lives wouldn't have been enough for, but Dokseo had me by her side.

She had been hearing my “stories” earlier and more often than anyone else to begin with. She was the only person who could rightly be called the direct disciple of an anomaly expert like me.

And whenever she was truly in danger, the Saintess contacted me, and I went to rescue her myself.

And so.

[“Mister.”]

[“Hm?”]

[“For some reason, anomalies don't scare me anymore.”]

For some reason, Dokseo now had noticeably more defined, combat-honed muscles than in other runs, and her aura had turned a terrifying color. She declared expressionlessly:

[“These days, all I think when I see anomalies is, who do these little shits think they are, daring to take on a human?”]

[“...”]

The Oh Dokseo Paradox.

1. “Oh Dokseo the writer” concentrates on turning my stories into a novel = she has less time to train, and “Oh Dokseo the awakened” grows weaker.

2. “Oh Dokseo the writer” falls into a slump, barely posts any chapters, and goes roaming around = “Oh Dokseo the awakened” grows stronger.

And as we have already seen, the Dokseo of run 888 fell into a slump of record-breaking duration.

In other words?

[“Ugh. Staying home all day makes me antsy. Even my muscles are itching. That's it. Mister! I'm gonna find a decent anomaly nearby and beat the shit out of it!”]

[“...”]

[“Last time I went one-on-one with an alien anomaly and beat it to hell, so this time I'll try taking on two at once!”]

The longer her hiatus went on.

As it stretched to four years, five, six, seven.

Dokseo's aura burned as fiercely as a wildfire.

Even Seo Gyu, whose anger-management issues made no exceptions for anyone but me, gradually started avoiding her.

[“Haaa...”]

Then, at some point, the aura that had been overflowing from her entire body subsided without a trace.

It hadn't disappeared.

It had merely been perfectly contained.

Dokseo quietly opened her eyes.

[“Mister. No, my honored master.”]

[“...”]

[“Your disciple believes she now understands something of aura. So this is the realm you have been gazing upon, Master.”]

That's right.

In run 888, Oh Dokseo had degenerated into an FFF-class writer—

But at the same time, sacrificing her readers' bitterness, resentment, and outcries, she had risen to become an SSS-class awakened...!

One day.

A notice appeared on SG Net's peaceful Fiction Serialization Board.

[BookishGirl] It's me. (5 minutes ago)

[BookishGirl] This is Oh Dokseo... I'm going on hiatus to take a little time to recharge... (7 years ago)

The readers were astonished.

Their esteemed author—no, that fucking author—who'd disappeared for seven years while shamelessly posting nonsense on the general board had written a new notice!

'Is she finally resuming the story?'

'So coming back after seven years really is the unwritten rule for writers?'

THUMP.

The readers hurriedly clicked the notice. They might have cursed the fucking author to hell and back, but these were devoted fans who couldn't forget this establishment's distinctive flavor and had reread the story three, four, or more times.

They didn't dwell on why the author, whose titles always began “This is Oh Dokseo...,” had suddenly switched her tone to “It's me.” This wasn't the time to notice things like that.

Soon, having read the notice carefully, the readers began to doubt the performance of their eyeballs.

――――――――――

[BookishGirl] It's me.

Sorry I vanished without a word and stopped updating for seven whole years.

I'm a lousy writer.

But I want more time off.

――――――――――

Question marks rose in the readers' minds.

Regardless, the notice continued.

――――――――――

I don't want to run my mouth making excuses.

I want to rest, and some of you probably want to beat me into updating.

Now, what does it take to get what you want?

A silver tongue? Glittering connections? Dazzling schemes?

All wrong.

The answer is “fists.”

――――――――――

Starting next Monday, I'll be at Tower of Babel square in Busan from 6 a.m. to 11 a.m. for four weeks—twenty-eight days.

Fight me one-on-one.

For those twenty-eight days, I'll accept just one challenger per day, first come, first served.

If even one reader beats me during that time, I'll post the next chapter of <The Regressor's Epilogue> the very next day. No excuses, no nothing.

I don't mean I'll squeeze out one chapter and quit. Big sis doesn't play those games. I'll go straight back to regular updates.

If nobody beats me, <The Regressor's Epilogue> will end its long hiatus and officially be discontinued.

This is a duel to the death.

Your desire for the story to resume.

My desire for it to stop.

At the boundary between life and death, we shall determine whose desire is stronger.

With fists alone.

――――――――――

???

The question marks refused to leave the readers' minds even after they finished the notice.

They had, however, acquired quite a few words in front of them.

'What the fuck is this lunatic talking about?'

The readers were bewildered.

The post exuded an unmistakable whiff of iron barbells and dumbbells.

BookishGirl was originally a username combining “bookish” and “girl,” neither of which had much to do with iron. Weren't both words favored by people born with scrawny musculoskeletal systems?

SG Net immediately erupted.

-Anonymous: Did she get hacked?

The first theory to emerge was the “hacking theory.”

But unlike the feeble, civilized internet of the pre-apocalypse, the end-times internet had no room for petty tricks like hacking.

SG Net accounts were strictly linked to their users' souls. The hacking theory was quickly refuted.

-Anonymous: This bitch is smart lol. Guess even she feels bad coming back without a word after ghosting us for 7 years, so she's setting up an excuse lmao

└[Hundred Flowers]HighSchoolYear12: Oh, I see! I totally get it now >_<)!!

-Anonymous: fr our dear author feels bad for the readers who waited, so she's planning to take a few punches to the face and come back haha

└Anonymous: Hey, after making us wait 7 years, she damn well ought to take a punch lmaooo

└Anonymous: Brain-damaged readers vs an author about to get brain damage... What an epic matchup...

-Anonymous: BookishGirl's kinda smart, yeah

The next to gain traction was the “pretext theory.”

The analysis went like this: this was a publicity stunt and an event, a masterful maneuver to rekindle interest in <The Regressor's Epilogue> after seven years of dwindling attention.

It was an eminently reasonable interpretation, so the pretext theory quickly became the prevailing view.

Existing readers took it as a sort of “fan meetup,” while newcomers understood it as “an ad by some entertaining writer I don't really know.”

-Anonymous: Incheon) Anyone wanna go to Busan together??

-Anonymous: Kinda excited to see the author in person haha

-Anonymous: Regressor's Epilogue readers, MUST READ!! Recommended budget accommodations in Busan! ☆Includes a restaurant list☆

For the first time in ages, BookishGirl's readers stopped their machine-gun barrage of profanity and chatted and laughed amiably.

Pitiful citizens who still believed human affairs operated rationally, even after all this time experiencing anomalies.

There were, of course, a very few dissenting voices.

-[National Road]Historian: Everyone. Meeting up is all well and good, but the author has publicly stated she'll accept only one challenger on each of the 28 days. The readers can field no more than 28 champions. Shouldn't we also discuss how to select those 28 champions?

└Anonymous: lmao what is bro talking about

└Anonymous: Why are you the only one taking this seriously lol

But when had a reasonable minority opinion ever been adopted in this land?

A festive mood had finally formed for once, and the tactless minority who splashed mud on it received nothing but abuse and dismissal.

Brimming with anticipation, SG Net's devoted readers of <The Regressor's Epilogue> gathered at Tower of Babel square in Busan.

Monday. Six in the morning.

Dokseo arrived at the square as promised.

“Author!”

Fans who had pitched tents in the square and waited overnight rushed toward her.

You might wonder what all the commotion was about at six in the morning, but the concept of time was rather different in an apocalypse where modern civilization had been wiped out.

The modern people who'd had healthy routines forcibly imposed on them looked bright and fresh.

“Wow, are you really BookishGirl?”

“I'm a fan! A huge fan!”

“Please shake my hand!”

“...”

Dokseo surveyed her surroundings with a disdainful tilt.

Both feet planted firmly on the ground, arms folded, her now worn and frayed cap pulled on, she regarded the twenty-odd readers with arrogance.

“Who is your representative?”

“Pardon?”

“The readers' representative who shall face me. As promised, today I shall duel only one of you to the death.”

“Oh...”

“Me! Me, me! Pick me! Me!”

A devoted reader who had always prided himself on being quick on the uptake hurriedly raised his hand.

Ah, the other readers thought with genuine regret. I could have raised my hand first!

But why was their author talking like that? Didn't she sound kind of idiotic? No. That idiotic charm had always been part of her appeal.

“Hmm.”

Regardless of what anyone around her thought, Dokseo slowly looked her opponent up and down.

Then she chewed her bubble gum.

“Nine moves.”

“Sorry? What was that?”

“I shall grant you nine moves. Meaning you may strike first with nine movements constituting martial techniques.”

“Oh. Oooh, that thing. The thing they always do in martial arts novels! Haha! Yes, understood!”

The innocent fan grinned to himself.

Our author is giving me nine whole chances to punch her! She'll get upset if I hit hard, so I'll just tap her playfully!

“Come at me with intent to kill.”

“Haha! Yes! Hiiiyaaa!”

The fan roared, but his hand struck Dokseo's cheek as though swatting a mosquito.

SLAP...

It was far too gentle to call a punch in the face. Nevertheless, both the man who'd delivered it and the readers watching made a huge fuss.

“Aaaah! He actually hit her!”

“How could you!”

“Sorry, Author! Eight more coming!”

CLICK. CLICK.

Everyone laughed and chattered, some taking pictures and videos on their smartphones to upload to SG Net, all eagerly awaiting their favorite story's return the next day after a seven-year hiatus.

“Hm.”

Only Dokseo herself remained impassive.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes!”

“Then it is my turn. Here I come.”

“Ahaha, y—”

KABOOOOOM!

It was an explosive boom.

The devoted reader had probably been trying to say “yes.”

The reason he hadn't managed to finish that single-syllable word, one Koreans probably uttered more than any other in their lives, was simply that his physical distance from the square had become far too great.

People blinked.

“Huh?”

“Eh?”

The fan was embedded in the wall of a building across the square. All that remained was the sort of body-shaped hole so often seen in American cartoons.

A deathly silence fell.

“I did not kill him.”

Dokseo chewed her gum.

“I wrapped his entire body in aura before striking him away, so nothing should be broken. He will merely have lost consciousness from the excessive speed.”

“...”

“Today is the last time I shall show mercy. I shall return tomorrow.”

POP!

Her bubble burst.

The readers gathered in the square had no way of knowing that the gum's texture was inherently unsuitable for blowing bubbles, and that Dokseo had used exquisite aura control to forcibly inflate it and then burst it in the most beautiful shape possible.

Nor would they have wanted to know.

Their brains had overloaded after receiving a succession of revelations far too shocking for the human mind to process.

'The author—'

'Beat up a reader?'

'And not just any reader—'

'One of her most devoted fans, who not only waited years for her return but camped out overnight just to see her in person?'

'What's more—'

'An awakened attacked an ordinary person?'

'And all of that—'

'Just because she wants to keep a story she put on hiatus seven years ago discontinued? In other words, just because she doesn't want to write?'

The readers' thoughts converged.

'Can that—'