**This side story contains major spoilers for the main plot of *Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint*.**

For those who have not yet completed the main story, please keep this in mind.

\*

"When is your birthday, Ahjussi?"

He couldn't quite recall when he first heard that question anymore.

Was it during the second regression? Or perhaps the third?

At some point, he stopped answering that question altogether.

He believed that knowing the answer wouldn't help those who asked it in any meaningful way.

But there was a time when he would answer, just as he did now.

"August 3rd."

"August 3rd? Are you sure?"

"I made a promise."

The child frowned.

"A promise? Who decides their birthday like that?"

He began to polish his *Jincheonpaedo* sword.

The child was right. No one should determine their birthday that way.

But did it really matter?

"Who did you promise with?"

"There's no need for you to know."

"Is it a woman?"

He furrowed his brow slightly and looked at the child.

In the distance, he could see Kim Nam-woon grinning, clearly enjoying the situation.

It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on.

\*

As the wheel of time turned, many memories faded.

Some were caught between the gears and disappeared, while others were deliberately thrown into the cogs by Yoo Joong-hyuk himself.

However, not all memories were lost.

For instance, the memory of when he first learned the sword from *Pacheon Geomsung*.

"Again? You're a persistent one."

Pacheon Geomsung looked down at Yoo Joong-hyuk with disdain.

She puffed smoke from her large pipe, her eyes scanning his face with a haughty expression, before blowing a plume of smoke in his direction.

"I'm not taking in any disciples right now. You're not going to be my disciple."

Without a word, Yoo Joong-hyuk held up a piece of paper he had taken from the signboard.

*"Disciples Accepted Year-Round."*

Pacheon Geomsung frowned.

"It's true I accept disciples year-round, but not just anyone."

"I'm not just anyone."

"You look like it. Though your face isn't bad, so if you want, I could use you as a servant."

"Teach me martial arts."

Pacheon Geomsung quickly glanced over his entire body in response to his audacious tone.

She clicked her tongue and muttered.

"Even if I teach you, you won't be able to learn."

"Are you deciding that without even trying?"

"My martial arts aren't meant for someone as small as you."

"I'm not small."

"And they're not suitable for a man to use, either."

Pacheon Geomsung waved her pipe in the air as she said that.

It looked like she was waving it absentmindedly, but Yoo Joong-hyuk could sense the profound technique interwoven in the smoke's trail.

"You won't be able to become as strong as I am, even if you learn my martial arts."

"You won't know until we try."

"Why are you so fixated on my martial arts?"

Yoo Joong-hyuk's gaze burned as he lifted his head slowly.

"Because it's the only true 'martial art' left in this world."

It wasn't that Yoo Joong-hyuk hadn't tried learning other martial arts.

He had gone to the Namgung clan, known for its Sword Emperor. He had even visited the Zhongnan Sect, famed for slicing through even the setting sun.

But they were all frauds.

There were no true martial arts left in this *First Murim*.

What was once called martial arts had all been standardized, turned into [Skills], and distributed as [Skill Books] for anyone to learn easily.

But Yoo Joong-hyuk knew.

Such skills weren't enough to bring down the stars in the sky.

"I need the power to kill constellations."

The power to kill a constellation.

Those entities known as *Transcendental Beings* in *Star Stream*.

And right before him stood the strongest among them, *Pacheon Geomsung*.

Pacheon Geomsung sighed lightly before speaking.

"If you can defeat that one, I'll think about it."

A growling *Pacheon Shingun*, the guard dog, appeared before Yoo Joong-hyuk, blocking his way.

\*

Looking back, that had been the start of their tedious master-disciple relationship.

After much struggle, Yoo Joong-hyuk succeeded in defeating *Pacheon Shingun*.

His first task from Pacheon Geomsung had been simple.

"Do thirty thousand slashes."

"You can't possibly slash thirty thousand times in a single day."

"Thirty thousand is nothing. There's a man who thrust his sword ten billion times over forty years."

"Don't lie."

"Looks like I'll have to start by teaching you to speak respectfully."

As he was being hit repeatedly, Yoo Joong-hyuk wondered if he could really become stronger this way.

Every day, he received beatings.

A week, then a fortnight passed like that.

"How many thrusts have you done?"

"About ten thousand, ma'am…"

"And slashes?"

"Twenty thousand…"

"I told you to do twenty thousand of each."

"Please, don't hit me."

Yoo Joong-hyuk was hit again. Though it wasn't many strikes, it felt as painful as twenty thousand.

A month passed, then two.

In the end, Yoo Joong-hyuk never learned *Pacheon Swordsmanship*.

As a disciple, all Pacheon Geomsung ever did was lie down on the veranda, admiring Yoo Joong-hyuk's sculpted muscles or giving him basic training and bizarre errands.

"When are you going to teach me the sword?"

"Go to *Cheongcheon Peak* in *Second Murim* and pick some *Baekryeong Grass*."

Yoo Joong-hyuk barely survived the pursuit of the *Nine Sects and One Gang*, scaling Cheongcheon Peak with all his might.

He dueled with the Taoists of Wudang and Kunlun, slipped in the rain, and fell off cliffs dozens of times.

Finally, he succeeded in obtaining the Baekryeong Grass.

"I brought it."

"Oh, just put it there."

"Why did you ask me to get this?"

Pacheon Geomsung smiled contentedly at the fresh scent of the Baekryeong Grass.

"This grass has air-purifying properties."

"Are you going to teach me the sword now?"

"There's a secret realm that appeared in *Fourth Murim*, known as the *Hidden Domain of Hyunhak*. Go retrieve the elixirs that Hyunhak left behind."

"What?"

Pacheon Shingun barked, "Woof, woof!"

Pacheon Geomsung replied, "This one's been weak lately. I need to feed it some good medicine."

Yoo Joong-hyuk set off to find the elixir for the dog.

Even though it was *Fourth Murim*, the experts there were formidable.

Especially the top ten experts, who were leagues above Yoo Joong-hyuk at the time.

Still, encountering one of the top ten was the lesser problem.

"Go to *Third Murim*'s Demonic Sect and get *Millennium Ice*. It's been too hot lately, and I don't have the motivation to teach martial arts."

He almost died when he went to the Demonic Sect.

The Demonic Sect Leader, known as *Heavenly Demon*, was someone whom even the top ten experts of Fourth Murim wouldn't have been able to defeat.

And yet, according to Pacheon Geomsung, that Heavenly Demon was merely one of the lesser Heavenly Demons in Third Murim.

"The *Great Rejuvenation Pill* is in Shaolin. Steal it. Watch out for the monks."

Yoo Joong-hyuk had heard of the infamous Shaolin Temple.

Still, he figured it couldn't be too dangerous—after all, it was a place for monks.

He'd already faced the top ten experts and the Heavenly Demon. What threat could some monks pose?

He was wrong.

Caught off guard, Yoo Joong-hyuk was ambushed and had his head shaved, then imprisoned in Shaolin's repentance cave for three months.

He managed to escape and steal the Great Rejuvenation Pill, but narrowly avoided death while breaking through the Eighteen Arhat Formation.

"This took you a while. And what happened to your head?"

The shiny bald head was the work of Shaolin's top monk.

But there had been some benefit in exchange for losing his hair.

He had learned Shaolin's *Hundred Steps Divine Fist*.

Three months passed. Then six. Then a year.

His hair grew back quickly, and in that time, Yoo Joong-hyuk faced numerous life-threatening situations, completing each errand successfully.

At times, he thought it would've been easier to regress and start over from the beginning.

*Star Stream* was vast, and the world was full of strong people.

How much stronger would he need to become to reach the end of this cursed scenario?

Occasionally, he would challenge Pacheon Geomsung, wielding a sword.

Each time, he nearly died.

Even the combined might of a Heavenly Demon, top ten experts, and Shaolin's finest couldn't defeat Pacheon Geomsung.

Despite being beaten until his backside felt like mush, Yoo Joong-hyuk was satisfied.

After all, his master was stronger than all of them.

"Why did you decide to teach me?"

"You're handsome."

"What does that have to do with

 anything?"

"When will I get another chance to beat up someone so handsome?"

Another year passed.

During that time, Yoo Joong-hyuk encountered, fought, and defeated countless masters.

His fame spread throughout First Murim, and with it, so did Pacheon Geomsung's reputation.

"I'm the one defeating all these masters, yet you're the one getting the recognition."

"The world recognizes the shadow of a great master."

"A master is someone who teaches."

"Now that I think of it, you haven't been pestering me about learning swordsmanship lately."

Pacheon Geomsung chuckled as she perched on the veranda as usual.

The young maidens of the noble clans, who had come to watch Yoo Joong-hyuk train, gradually disappeared, leaving behind the cool evening air.

Two years had passed since Yoo Joong-hyuk arrived in Murim.

Panting heavily, Pacheon Shingun climbed up onto the veranda and lay beside Yoo Joong-hyuk's legs.

A dog stronger than him.

A dog that, having been admitted as a disciple before him, had become his senior.

A dog that had consumed the secret elixir of Hyunhak and the Great Rejuvenation Pill, attaining the strongest internal energy in all of Murim.

"Woof."

Yoo Joong-hyuk sighed lightly and patted the dog's back.

Pacheon Shingun wagged its tail happily.

The sound of water flowing from a nearby millstone filled the air.

Insects chirped between the blades of grass.

Yoo Joong-hyuk exhaled softly.

The swaying leaves of the Baekryeong Grass emitted a cool, refreshing chill from the Millennium Ice.

The heat of the day had given way to a much cooler night.

The night sky of Murim was beautiful.

"Tell me about yourself."

On any other day, he wouldn't have started talking just because his shameless master asked him to.

He was always cautious, rarely opening up about himself.

So why did he speak now?

Perhaps it was because he felt this life was hopeless.

Or maybe it was the soft fur of Pacheon Shingun brushing against his thigh.

It might've been the whimsical way the smoke from Pacheon Geomsung's pipe curled into the sky, or how the sound of water and insects was so loud, or how the icy stars in the Murim sky were so dazzling that he felt no one would hear him tonight.

Whatever the reason, Yoo Joong-hyuk began to speak, sharing his jumbled thoughts.

He told the story of the day he first entered the scenario.

He talked about starting his regressions and the endless cycle of worlds.

A story that no one could understand, Yoo Joong-hyuk rambled on alone.

Whether Pacheon Geomsung was listening or not didn't matter.

He simply wanted to talk for once, and she was there to hear it.

Like an old tree that had lived for countless years, Pacheon Geomsung silently listened to his tale.

Her *Myeonggyeong Eyes*, which could read the emotions of others, glimmered in the serene night air, silently signaling that she was listening.

*Myeonggyeong Eyes.*

Eyes that peered into others' hearts.

Yoo Joong-hyuk felt a strange sense of peace as he met those eyes that neither comforted nor blamed him.

Time passed, and at last, Yoo Joong-hyuk's story came to an end.

Pacheon Geomsung, after thinking for a moment, spoke.

"You seemed like someone who never had parents."

Yoo Joong-hyuk pondered for a moment before asking, "Are you insulting me?"

"You seemed like someone who just dropped from the sky."

Yoo Joong-hyuk silently gazed up at the sky.

Perhaps Pacheon Geomsung wasn't wrong.

In truth, he didn't know his parents' faces.

"When were you born?"

"I don't know."

"No one ever told you?"

Yoo Joong-hyuk nodded.

He had been assigned a national ID number, but he knew that wasn't his true birthday.

"I only know that I was born in the summer."

The sky of Murim was achingly beautiful.

At the end of that dazzling *Star Stream* sky, there was surely a being who created this entire scenario.

"Why do you want to become a Transcendent?"

Yoo Joong-hyuk stared wordlessly at the sky.

Pacheon Geomsung also looked up at Yoo Joong-hyuk's sky.

Sometimes, emotions are conveyed just by looking at the same thing.

Pacheon Geomsung slowly rose to her feet and drew her sword toward the heavens.

It was a beautiful sword technique.

Delicate yet powerful, graceful yet restrained.

Her sword technique stretched toward the heavens, shattering the sky itself.

Was it an illusion?

It seemed as though the stars she had slashed were falling from the sky.

Yoo Joong-hyuk stared blankly at the falling stars.

Even though he knew it was just a vision, he couldn't take his eyes off the spectacle.

How long had he been watching those fireworks explode so beautifully?

At some point, Pacheon Geomsung had returned from somewhere with a small package in her hand.

"Eat this. It's my favorite food."

Steam rose from the shaking bag she held out.

Yoo Joong-hyuk frowned.

"I don't eat food made by others."

"I went out of my way to buy this for you. Eat it."

"I don't want it."

"Let's see… today is…"

Among the twinkling summer starlight, Pacheon Geomsung's sword traced an '8' and a '3'.

"From now on, today is your birthday, my disciple."

\*

It would've been nice if that was the end of the memory about his birthday.

But, as always, *Star Stream* isn't fond of happy endings.

Exactly one year after those fireworks exploded in the summer night.

On a hot, humid, stormy evening.

"Master."

Pacheon Geomsung had been ambushed by both the Heavenly Demon and the Blood Demon.

Thousands of martial artists had died, and Pacheon Geomsung stood alone, defending her Murim from the Returnees' Alliance.

Yoo Joong-hyuk ran through the air, carrying the fallen Pacheon Geomsung on his back.

Both he and Pacheon Geomsung knew these wounds could not be healed.

"Pacheon Geomsung!"

Despite Yoo Joong-hyuk's cry, Pacheon Geomsung did not respond.

After laying her down in a safehouse, Yoo Joong-hyuk poured every elixir he had into her mouth.

These were the medicines he had gathered over time.

*Baekryeong Grass*. *Hyunhak's Elixir*. *The Great Rejuvenation Pill*…

But Pacheon Geomsung's energy only grew weaker.

Her *Seolhwa* was disintegrating.

Yoo Joong-hyuk cursed.

Please, no.

This person who was so immense that she resembled a forest.

She, too, was like a tree.

When a storm strikes and lightning falls, even a tree can be uprooted.

What if he could turn back time?

If he regressed from here. If he could save his master…

But if he turned back time, the Pacheon Geomsung he remembered would be gone.

Slowly, his master opened her eyes and looked at him.

Her large hand cupped Yoo Joong-hyuk's cheek.

"My disciple."

"I haven't learned *Pacheon Swordsmanship* yet."

"You already know it."

Pacheon Geomsung had known about Yoo Joong-hyuk's talent.

His demonic talent, the ability to absorb any martial art he glimpsed, had already allowed him to learn [Pacheon Swordsmanship] through mere observation.

Yoo Joong-hyuk shook his head.

"You promised to make me a Transcendent. You said you'd give me the strength to kill the constellations, to destroy *Star Stream*…"

Without you, I can't become stronger.

I…

"Joong-hyuk."

His master's eyes were looking at him.

"You are already stronger than I am."

Yoo Joong-hyuk's shoulders trembled.

He wanted to say that wasn't true.

"You're the one rejecting your own strength."

Yoo Joong-hyuk's head drooped slowly.

His breathing became ragged, and his fingertips twitched.

This past year had been so peaceful that he had forgotten this feeling.

It was all starting to repeat again.

"Pacheon Geomsung, I…"

"I know."

Her large hand rested on his head.

As if she truly understood his heart, Pacheon Geomsung smiled faintly.

"My handsome disciple. I wish you wouldn't learn *Pacheon Swordsmanship* again."

Her words echoed in his mind.

He shouldn't have sought out Pacheon Geomsung.

He shouldn't have tried to learn *Pacheon Swordsmanship*.

He shouldn't have come to Murim.

"I wish you would live a lazy life, lying on the veranda, eating dumplings made by others."

His master had known what he intended to do.

She knew what kind of sky he intended to shatter with her [Pacheon Swordsmanship].

That's why she never taught him the sword.

She had hoped he would give up somehow.

"But you'll go again to pick *Baekryeong Grass*, won't you? Even though you know why I sent you to do it, you'll still do it."

That's why she had sent him on all those grueling errands

.

"You'll conquer Hyunhak's secret realm, steal *Millennium Ice* and *The Great Rejuvenation Pill*. You'll do it over and over again. You'll turn twenty-nine, and eventually reach your thirties."

Yoo Joong-hyuk's hands trembled.

He wanted to say something, but no voice came out.

Pacheon Geomsung continued speaking.

"And I'll ask you again about your birthday. People will celebrate when you turn twenty-nine, then thirty. Even though they won't understand what that means to you…"

Her gaze seemed to stretch toward the distant future of her disciple, who would repeat the same time endlessly. The light in her eyes was fading.

"Still, don't hate them too much, my disciple."

He was a regressor.

A being who remembered all the time alone as he walked through it.

"They're just happy that you were born."

Yoo Joong-hyuk watched as her hand slowly fell.

He raised his head.

Once again, the sky of *Star Stream* came into view.

Though only one less person was looking at that same sky, the stars seemed different from usual.

Yoo Joong-hyuk slowly rose to his feet.

Like a tree that grows with sunlight and water, *Seolhwa* grows by feeding on tragedy.

Humans in the scenario can only grow stronger by losing something.

The night sky of Murim was no longer beautiful.

Yoo Joong-hyuk gripped his sword, and at last, he was born.

In that moment, he was neither a constellation nor a star.

Yet to the distant constellations of the universe, Yoo Joong-hyuk shone like a bright star.

And so Yoo Joong-hyuk became a Transcendent.

\*

With a bright flash, the video ended.

Sitting on a park bench, watching the video together, [41] muttered.

"Did we have that memory?"

The *Secretive Plotter* slowly shook his head.

Even though it had long been his habit to review the memories of countless Yoo Joong-hyuks, this was the first time he had seen such a memory.

"Is there a memory even you don't know? Aren't you the Yoo Joong-hyuk who remembers every Yoo Joong-hyuk?"

[There are memories even I don't know, 41. Just as you've forgotten much of your own life.]

At those words, [41] fell silent.

The Yoo Joong-hyuk of the 41st regression.

He was the only Yoo Joong-hyuk who had forgotten most of his own life.

As a result, not even the *Secretive Plotter* knew exactly what had happened during his lifetime.

[Perhaps this is a newly observed memory.]

The memories of Yoo Joong-hyuk, who had lived 1,863 regressions, were as vast as the universe itself.

Some memories existed without ever being recorded.

That might sound strange, but this universe had always worked that way.

As if something had suddenly occurred to him, the *Secretive Plotter* pulled a book from his pocket.

It was titled *Kim Dokja's Comment Collection*.

Seeing the book, [41] widened his eyes and asked, "What's that?"

[It's a record of the comments that guy left.]

"I'm asking why you even have something like that."

Without answering, the *Secretive Plotter* flipped through the pages until he stopped at a particular entry.

「Author-nim, but when is Joong-hyuk's birthday?」

The *Secretive Plotter* stared at the comment for a long time.

Did Kim Dokja leave this comment before or after Pacheon Geomsung told him about his birthday?

Just then, the sound of a text message alert broke the silence.

―Captain. You're coming at 8, right? Everyone's waiting.

Attached to the message was a photo.

Lee Ji-hye, her cheeks dusted with flour, was making a V-sign as everyone else appeared to be making dumplings.

Beside her were Kim Nam-woon, scowling, and Lee Hyun-sung, who seemed flustered as he held a burst dumpling. Uriel, meanwhile, was molding a dumpling into the shape of a sheep.

At the edge of the photo, a young boy's hand could be seen, likely belonging to a middle schooler.

The *Secretive Plotter* sent a reply.

―I don't eat food made by others.

The response came immediately.

―Not even this?

Attached was a picture of a giant dumpling, roughly the size of a human head.

No matter how he looked at it, it wasn't a size meant for human consumption. His sensibilities simply couldn't understand such an oversized dumpling.

Written crookedly on top of the dumpling, likely with ketchup, were the words:

**Dumplings Made by Others**.

The *Secretive Plotter* stared at the picture for a long time before he began typing a response.

―That's why I don't eat anything...

Before he could finish typing, he pressed the backspace key and deleted the entire sentence.

Watching him, [41] let out a small laugh.

The faint afterimage of [41] gradually dissolved, merging with the *Secretive Plotter*.

Without a word, the *Secretive Plotter* rose from his seat.

The sun had already begun to set.

When he checked the time, it was just after 7 PM.

Normally, this would be when the paywall for the scenario activated.

But no matter how long he waited, the scenario didn't start.

Next to the blinking clock, the date appeared.

**August 3rd.**

A day in the solar calendar that had no connection to him.

The sun was not his sponsor, and naturally, the solar calendar was not his time.

No one lived in the same time as him, nor could they.

And yet, the people who remembered him called today his birthday.

He no longer found that fact sad.