The Regressor shot me a sideways glance and said, "Once a Bio-receptor is engraved in you, you're bound to the Military State whether you like it or not. Not only will they monitor your every move using that information, but other nations will also watch you with extreme caution. In countries hostile to the Military State, like the Empire or the Federation, you could even be put under surveillance."
I wondered what she was on about now. Striking a similarly defiant pose, I replied nonchalantly, "That's not really a problem unless you're planning to defect to another country."
The Regressor glared at me. I glared right back.
It's fine to bad-mouth the Military State. That country is a pseudo-nation that throws even the innocent into the Abyss.
But I will not stand for insults against the Bio-receptor I use! I don't use the Bio-receptor and Clothing Packets out of loyalty to the State, but simply because they're convenient!
"…Besides, the Bio-receptor itself is a weakness. A magical device that can affect my entire body. It's no different from the slave seals of the past, just in a different form."
What? Is she calling me a slave? Suddenly, I felt my mood sour.
I'm someone who wished for the Military State's downfall several times a day, and after being locked up in Tantalus, cursing the State became second nature to me. As a notorious petty criminal from the back alleys, the number of laws I've broken is probably several times greater than yours. Fraud, gambling, embezzlement, blackmail, bribery, and so on!
And you're treating me like a slave to the Military State? No, I am the Military State's worst misdemeanant! The nature of our crimes may be different, but I've got you beat on quantity!
I flared up and snapped back, "That's going too far. By that logic, what in the world is safe? You could look at a tight-fitting suit and claim it's a prison that confines you, or see a necktie and argue it's no different from a leash around your neck. If we're going down that road, we should confiscate every fountain pen in the world, since the pen is mightier than the sword."
The Regressor leaned back in her chair and stared at me intently.
Her ingrained hostility pricked at me. It was a chronic hatred. A dark shadow that was tiresome but would never disappear, one that had followed her through thirteen deaths. The grime from the Military State's shadow still occupied a corner of her being.
"…You're not unaware."
The Regressor's gaze was frigid, filled with the emotions of countless timelines. Her heart felt so cold it seemed it would never burn with passion again.
A chill ran down my spine. I muttered to myself.
Military State. What in the world did you do to get on her bad side? You need to be careful. It's a wide world, and somewhere out there are individuals who can stand against a nation. Like, for example, an infinitely regressing Regressor.
From now on, maybe torture people a little less, and treat them a little better…
"The very first application the Military State found for the Bio-receptor… was torture."
A faint trace, a short, thick recollection. Through my mind-reading, I saw the past the Regressor recalled. A long time ago, in her first timeline. That old memory surfaced.
All I could feel from it was fragmented pain.
The only thought in her mind was, 'It hurts.' Just those three words. Like a piece of bad performance art, it filled the final page in black, along with tattered scars.
I swallowed hard.
Military State, I think it's already too late for you.
I need to get out of this country as soon as possible. Adios. Let's never meet again.
"The Bio-receptor is an Arch-Avatar, a replica of my body, forcibly opened from the outside through alchemy and magic. If they force the Bio-receptor open and inject a specially made toxin… Hah, they can keep your senses alive while inflicting only pain. If they run electricity through it, it spreads through your whole body in an instant. The iron needle touches my wrist, but my toes curl up on their own. Heh. The Military State didn't just develop ordinary technology. The fields that developed fastest and most drastically were the technology to make weapons… and the technology to inflict pain."
A dark emotion washed over the room. It was so palpable that the vampire fell silent, and even the slow-witted Azzy perked up her tail and ears, sensing the mood.
The vampire remained silent.
However, it was obvious where its sympathies lay. If its heart were a compass, the needle would be pointing straight at the Regressor.
The Regressor, recalling the pain, replayed the thought with a sense of futility.
'Everyone who was subjected to that torture died. I couldn't stand it either and killed myself. After that day, I started carrying poison so I could die painlessly at any time. No matter how I think about it, I can't forgive them. The Military State….'
I'm screwed.
If I had known, I wouldn't have pretended to be a warden. I couldn't read a painful memory like this!
No wonder she came at me with a knife first. Should I consider myself lucky to still be alive?
The Regressor clenched her fist, so tightly that it could have drawn blood, just to stop her hand from trembling.
"Even after all this, do you still think the Bio-receptor is necessary?"
'If this man knows the darkness of the Military State and still sides with them, we will clash sooner or later.'
The Regressor was sizing me up. One wrong move here, and I'd be branded an 'enemy' and made to suffer for all eternity. After all, this timeline wasn't her last.
She wouldn't believe me if I told her I wasn't a warden now, would she?
In that case.
I lowered my voice. The cheerful tone, which had been about half a tone higher, was switched out in an instant, as if changing masks.
I reset my consciousness amidst the abrupt shift. Snap. I forcibly cut the flow of conversation. If a conversation were a living thing, this would be its death. I created a gap, a wall of silence, as if to declare that what came before was irrelevant.
The end of one conversation, the beginning of the next.
After preparing myself, I began a new narrative.
"When the Bio-receptor and the Clothing Packet were first created, such a purpose was never intended."
My voice was calm, as if observing from a great distance, yet imbued with warmth.
With the deepest resonance I could muster, I began to recite an old tale.
"The person who first conceived of the Clothing Packet was an old woman with a daughter-in-law. The old woman, who ran a small draper's shop, watched with pity as her clumsy daughter-in-law sewed and did laundry until her hands were raw and blistered. The face of her once-lively and bright daughter-in-law was always clouded with worry. But for the daughter-in-law, who had to help her son carry on the family business, sewing and washing were duties she had to bear. The old woman pondered how to help her daughter-in-law get used to the housework, but no good ideas came to mind. In the midst of this, the old woman received a commission for a dress from a nobleman."
Steep slopes and sharp rocks, when viewed from afar, are but delicate details that make up a gentle landscape. A story alone cannot contain all the tears and pain shed.
But even if it holds only a fraction of the emotion, a single story can move someone's heart.
"The nobleman ordered the most ornate and beautiful dress the old woman could possibly make. Upon hearing the order, the old woman was flabbergasted. The garment, with all its decorations attached, could hardly be called clothing. The old woman prostrated herself before the nobleman and replied."
With my skills, I cannot make this dress.
Make it.
The fabrics and threads are tangled like fighting dogs; if made this way, it cannot be worn or taken off.
That is not a problem. Make it.
There are too many layers of cloth for even the smallest child who knows how to hold a needle to squeeze through; if the dress is worn or torn, it cannot be mended.
That is not a problem. Make it.
Silks and fabrics of different origins are intertwined as one body; if it becomes dirty, it must not touch water, nor can it be cleaned with a brush dipped in holy water.
That is not a problem. Make it.
My lord, why do you desire a dress that cannot be worn again, cannot be mended, and cannot be cleaned?
It is to be used for one day, and one day only. When that day passes, it will be taken off, torn, and buried in the ground. Your worries are unnecessary.
That is not a dress, but a monstrosity.
That is not a problem. Make it.
I continued the dialogue alone, as if I were a storyteller. I wet my dry throat with saliva and went on.
"It was a peculiar order from a whimsical nobleman. An order that no one in the world could easily accept. It could have been dismissed as an eccentricity or refused as impossible. But for the old woman, who had been pondering for so long for her daughter-in-law's sake, it was an inspiration that came like a miracle."
Her daughter-in-law, who was clumsy and terrible at laundry and sewing. The old woman who, despite scolding her outwardly, secretly shed tears at the sight of blood and water stains on her sleeves.
"She realized that if clothes were worn for only a day and then discarded, there would be no need for laundry or sewing."
She achieved the art of Seamless Cloths.
"It was impossible. It should have been impossible. To make a new dress every time you wear one, and to deconstruct it with alchemy instead of taking it off. Does that make any sense? It couldn't have been that easy. It must have been incredibly difficult. The old woman must have burned away all her remaining lifespan. At an age where she was considering retirement due to her failing eyesight, she must have picked up a needle again. She possessed skills that bordered on artistry, but her age was a pity. Her hands, weak and trembling, were pierced with dozens of needle holes, and unlike in her youth, they did not heal easily. There was never a day her hands were free of blood."
I paused there, deliberately holding my breath. Then, I once again showed her the hole in my body.
To let her know what was contained in this tiny hole.
"The essence of the Bio-receptor is the wound from a needle prick. The identity of the Clothing Packet is the dress made for the daughter-in-law. It's just that the Military State made it a bit more… magi-engineered."
The Military State created all the bad things in the world.
But before the bad things became bad…
There was a much smaller, more precious sentiment.
I approached the Regressor. As I did, I unsummoned the Clothing Packet. The fibers unraveled thread by thread, as if someone were pulling all the seams on my body at once, and gathered into my left hand. Like a silkworm making a cocoon, or a spider wrapping its prey. The thin threads went from translucent to opaque, returning to the form of a tiny bead.
After a few steps, I was back in my standard-issue shirt and shorts.
Pop. The warden's uniform packet came out of the Bio-receptor. I snatched it and stood before the Regressor's desk.
"I cannot speak for the Military State, nor can Trainee Shei represent all who have suffered. Nevertheless, I will ask for forgiveness."
It was not my doing. However, since I am a part of it, I will ask for forgiveness for my share.
With that intention, I took the Regressor's hand. To find the Bio-receptor.
The Regressor watched me in silence.
"For the sin of those who took the warmest achievement in the world and forged it in the fires of hell."
And so, where the Bio-receptor should be, I placed my finger—.
Huh, it's smooth. Not even a hole, just a throbbing pulse.
Puzzled, I asked, "What's this? You don't have a Bio-receptor."
Why not? That's strange. The memory of being tortured was so vivid.
Just as I was about to tilt my head in confusion, the Regressor flinched and snatched her hand away.
"Ah, no. Wait."
'The time I was tortured was in the second timeline, when I was running wild without knowing anything…. This time, I never got the procedure in the first place.'
Ah, right.
The torture happened in a previous timeline, didn't it? I was so immersed in the thoughts and memories I was hearing that I momentarily forgot. It was just such an intense memory.
Having grasped the situation, I stopped talking and looked at the Regressor awkwardly. She, too, seemed to find the atmosphere incredibly uncomfortable and had a hard time looking at me.
Uh oh. This makes me look ridiculous.
I read her mind without permission, got overly empathetic, and set this whole mood. I thought she had been tortured. I mean, she was, but in a previous timeline.
In this timeline, she's the one who's been raising hell.
The situation suddenly became complicated. The Regressor had told a lie that could only be explained by regression, and I had learned something that could only be explained by mind-reading.
What do I do in a situation like this? What if she finds out I'm a mind reader?
After a moment of deliberation, I threw my arms in the air and shouted, "Liar! You talked as if you'd been tortured! I thought you were the one who went through it!"
My plan: get angry first!
To make it painfully obvious that I felt deceived by the Regressor, I stomped my foot and yelled, "Torture, my ass! You don't even have a Bio-receptor! Huh? How are you going to inject anything into this, this smooth wrist!"
"Th-this is."
"Did you want to bluff that badly? Or were you trying to steal the painful scars of someone who was tortured? To use it as a medal to decorate your life? How shameless! First poverty, and now even torture and hardship have been stolen from me!"
"W-wait! I was definitely!"
"Definitely?"
As I lifted my chin and pressed her, the Regressor's lips quivered with an expression of injustice. But she couldn't quite form her thoughts into words.
'I can't… I can't tell him I can regress yet!'
Of course. A regressor's ability to regress would be their most closely guarded secret.
So how is she going to explain this? How does she plan to escape the predicament I've put her in?
The answer was surprisingly simple.
CRASH!
The Regressor threw herself out of the room and fled. She chose Escape (Physical).
Hah. To think she'd bolt using a method I can't counter. She got me there.
[A most intriguing tale.]
The vampire, who had been listening quietly to the story, seemed quite pleased with my lesson today and approached me with a satisfied air.
[It was worth breaking my seclusion for this outing. However, I have yet to hear the end of the story. What became of the old woman?]
"Ahaha."
[…Why do you laugh?]
"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering why you call her an 'old woman.' She lived in the modern era, you know. Even if she were alive today, she wouldn't even be 200 years old. Much younger than Trainee Tyrkanzyaka. So instead of 'old woman,' you should call her 'kid.' Wow, to think you could call someone like that a kid…"
CRASH!
The vampire smashed through the building's exterior wall and left. It ran away.
Hah. With just my words, I made one woman and one corpse flee. Someone would be proud of me.
By the way, how did that coffin, made of wood, smash through a concrete wall and remain intact? It feels like common sense is breaking down.
"This is property damage… Ah, whatever. What's done is done."
I'm not from the Military State's budget department. They'll figure it out. As long as I have a decent place to sleep, I'm good.
"Now, then…"
I walked over to Azzy, who was dozing off in the back of the classroom. As my footsteps grew closer, Azzy's tail began to wag first. Then her ears perked up, and she lifted her head, realizing my approach, and shot to her feet.
Seeing the drool at the corner of her mouth, it seems she was living the good life, as only a dog can. I dodged Azzy as she tried to wipe her drool on my hand and said, "Azzy. Did you listen well in class?"
"Woof!"
"Can you tell me what today's lesson was about?"
"Woof!"
"So you're saying I shouldn't even bother asking?"
"Yup!"
"…It's a little annoying how you only speak human at times like this."
"Annoying?"
"Yes! I'm annoyed, you mutt! At least pretend to listen!"
"Mutt?! Woof! Woof!"
Sigh. What am I going to do with this mutt?
She's incredibly gentle and follows humans well, but according to the future I saw from the Regressor, this one also turns into a vicious beast that tears people apart.
I don't know why that happens, but it's a future that must be prevented. I thought maybe teaching Azzy some common sense would help.
"I must be crazy. Even the person who made the proverb 'a dog that lives near a school for three years can recite a poem' would scold a real dog for not understanding metaphors."
As I scratched my head, Azzy stretched her upper body and barked fiercely.
"Woof! Woof woof! Woof!"
Azzy's gaze was fixed on my left wrist.
Could it be? Did she listen to the lesson and realize what this is?
Half-doubting, I showed my left wrist to Azzy.
"What is it? Do you remember something? Here, look. This is what's called a Bio-receptor, and if I plug the Clothing Packet in here…"
"CHOMP!"
"Aaaaaaaargh!!"
Along with the sensation of sharp, hard fangs digging into the hole in my body.
I lost consciousness.