Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint Chapter 551 (END) - Epilogue 5 – The Eternity and Epilogue (Complete)

....Can’t sync this to the cloud?

Han Su-Yeong frantically checked her Stigma several times, shocked by the sudden notification. However, it showed zero signs of functioning. It was as if the system’s divine favor had simply evaporated. Furthermore, her physical state had undeniably shifted from a brief moment ago. Her body, which had felt light enough to traverse the skies, now grew progressively more sluggish and heavy.

....Is this it? No, wait a minute.

She had anticipated that such a day might arrive eventually, yet it had manifested far sooner than she possessed any readiness for.

[The ‘Bureau’s Fable’ currently in your possession has ceased its narration.]

Han Su-Yeong had not even finished drafting the final episode of her novel yet. Moreover, if the Cloud System was truly defunct, transmitting the manuscript would prove impossible regardless of whether she completed it or not.

“Damn it all....”

Just then, the hospital room door was shoved open with force as someone sprinted inside.

“Han Su-Yeong!”

It appeared her companions had also grasped the gravity of the situation.

*

“There is absolutely no other way? Are you certain?”

“....For the moment, yes.”

Devices fueled by magical energy were grinding to a halt one after another. Because of this, Yi Seol-Hwa’s hospital was currently in a chaotic race to swap the power sources for their essential life-saving equipment.

“What is the status of Kim Dok-Ja?”

“Thankfully, there seem to be no unfavorable developments thus far.”

Even though the system’s power had vanished, the comatose Kim Dok-Ja remained unchanged. He was a boy locked in an eternal slumber, existing in a state neither truly alive nor dead. By all accounts, his other reincarnated selves scattered across various world-lines should still be reading the manuscript she had produced.

“I couldn’t push the final update to the manuscript. At this rate....” Han Su-Yeong muttered, her voice tight.

“The ‘Most Ancient Dreams’ might never get to read the conclusion of the story, then.”

Yu Sang-Ah’s grim observation prompted Yi Ji-Hye and Jang Ha-Yeong to cry out in rapid succession.

“What happens now? Wasn’t the final portion of the manuscript the most pivotal piece?”

“What about my side story?!”

“That is hardly the priority right now, is it?”

They had no clear count of how many world-lines Yu Jung-Hyeok had journeyed through, yet a significant portion of them should have received the novel’s latest chapters by now.

“Argh, the one thing I loathe most in this world is a story that gets abandoned halfway through....”

The finale—the epilogue—was designed to address the ‘unrealized future’ for the ‘Most Ancient Dream’. Obviously, it was impossible for all of them to perfectly reconstruct a narrative that had not yet come to pass.

“What are we to do? You emphasized that the epilogue was the most vital part.”

“There remains one final option.” Han Su-Yeong, gnawing on her fingernails, gazed toward the heavens and spoke. “There is one more individual besides me who possesses the ability to finish the manuscript. And we have no choice but to place our faith in him.”

*

“....The manuscript updates have ceased.”

The manuscript had consistently updated roughly once per day without a single failure. But for the past month, the flow of updates had entirely dried up. Initially, he suspected an error caused by his frequent traversal between world-lines, but closer inspection revealed that the entire login history had been wiped.

[Captain, I fear something has gone terribly astray.]

He entertained two distinct theories. Either Han Su-Yeong found herself in a position where she could no longer compose the story, or the World-Line system itself had finally collapsed.

Regardless of the reality, the predicament was dire.

[Files are being transmitted automatically to the linked world-lines.]

The latest chapter had already been distributed to other realms. In the world where the serialization had debuted, a notice of postponement had already been issued—it seemed the author there had panicked when they suddenly lost the thread of the story and hurriedly announced a delay.

The circumstances were grim. At this rate, authors prone to panic might attempt to fabricate their own versions of the ending that Han Su-Yeong had failed to submit.

[....Captain, time is running out.]

Yu Jung-Hyeok stared down at his own hands. He slowly curled them into fists before relaxing his grip.

It wasn't as if alternative paths did not exist. If Han Su-Yeong could not finish the manuscript, then the individual qualified to do so must step up to complete it.

[Attribute’s effect has been activated!]

[You have gained the ability to edit the manuscript within the Cloud System.]

[Substantial Probability is required for the editing of the manuscript.]

Yu Jung-Hyeok closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

*

Two months passed since the system entered its final dissolution phase.

The system, once crumbling, showed no signs of self-correction. The number of individuals capable of hearing the system’s messages dwindled day by day. Skills and Stigmata withered away until they were gone. Even the whispers of the Fables had faded into silence.

– An airliner powered by magical engines has crashed into the East Sea...

Relics from the forgotten era that hadn't been decommissioned were creating further ruin.

“Argh, I told them repeatedly to replace all of that outdated junk!”

Jeong Hui-Won, monitoring the news feed, finally hit her limit.

Han Su-Yeong asked, “Who was deployed there?”

“Ji-Hye and the others. Despite being quite weak, they can still trigger their Stigmata, so....”

They watched the live broadcast of the salvage efforts. The screen flickered with the images of Yi Ji-Hye, Yi Gil-Yeong, and Shin Yu-Seung, alongside their turtle ship and Chimera Dragon—both appearing significantly smaller than in their prime.

“The swells are overwhelming.”

Survivors were being extracted one by one, yet the incoming waves grew more vicious with every passing second. The Chimera Dragon and the turtle ship rocked violently. The rescue mission persisted despite the harsh weather, but the prospects for success looked grim.

Unable to watch further, Han Su-Yeong rose from her chair. “Call Yu Sang-Ah immediately and prep a helicopter. Those three cannot handle this alone.”

“I already tried, but because of the gale....”

Han Su-Yeong let out a low, frustrated growl, “Damn it,” and began retrieving her gear.

– Breaking news: An unidentified object has breached the East Sea’s atmosphere and entered the.....

On the screen, an object was seen plunging through the dark storm clouds. A deafening roar followed, and a distant patch of the ocean erupted in blinding light. Drones pushed through the tempest to capture the scene, streaming real-time footage from the nearby waters.

Soon, the exterior of the craft manifested amidst the pulsating grey foam. It was a capsule-shaped ark, and a figure was emerging from within.

“....Yu Jung-Hyeok??”

*

Upon verifying the report, Han Su-Yeong and the remaining companions raced toward the East Sea.

– All injured survivors have been safely recovered with the intervention of the extraterrestrial being...

– The alien has been identified as the terror suspect who departed Earth two years ago...

Breaking headlines continued to flood the airwaves.

They waited at the docks for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the rescue vessels appearing on the horizon came into view, with Yi Ji-Hye’s turtle ship positioned in the center. She and the children were waving enthusiastically.

Following close behind was the man, his eyes scanning the dock for his comrades.

“You....!”

He looked like a stranger. Though his features remained largely unchanged, his messy hair was now streaked with white.

“It has been a long time,” Yu Jung-Hyeok stated.

Han Su-Yeong froze, momentarily speechless, before lashing out by reflex. “What about the mission? Why have you returned so abruptly?”

She knew instantly that she shouldn’t have said that. The toll Yu Jung-Hyeok must have endured could not be measured by such trivial words.

Yu Jung-Hyeok replied, “I had no alternative but to return.”

“Oppa!”

Yu Mi-Ah sprinted from behind the group and collided with him in an embrace. He held her securely as she wept uncontrollably.

Han Su-Yeong watched the scene unfold with a somber expression before inquiring, “Who is that girl accompanying you?”

The girl behind Yu Jung-Hyeok peeked out, clearly affronted. “Seriously, you too....? Nobody remembers me.” She let out a dramatic, weary sigh. “Bah-aht.”

*

Yu Sang-Ah personally arrived to collect the group in her limousine. As Yi Seol-Hwa conducted a medical examination, Yu Jung-Hyeok began detailing the events of his odyssey.

He recounted his departure from Earth, his aimless drift between various world-lines, the assistance he received from Outer Gods, his reunion with Biyu in the Dark Stratum, and eventually, the completion of his journey around the world-lines.

“....You were forced to return because your Fable energy reserves ran dry?”

“Exactly.”

It appeared the collapse of the system had impacted Yu Jung-Hyeok even in the vastness of space. In short, it was the worst possible outcome.

“Just how much time have you spent drifting in space?”

“Are you curious?”

A faint, ghost of a smile touched Yu Jung-Hyeok’s lips before it vanished. Since such an expression was so incredibly uncharacteristic of him, Han Su-Yeong found herself scowling.

“....Did you just smile?”

“Rest easy. I have visited every world-line that was accessible to me. With Biyu’s aid, a real-time update link has been established, so the authors of those worlds should be uploading the manuscript in the proper order.”

The companions breathed a collective sigh of relief at this news.

However, a critical question remained.

“Did you transmit everything accurately? What about the final portion? What did you decide to do with the conclusion?” Han Su-Yeong pressed.

“Are you referring to the part you did not relay to me?”

“Exactly! The final part you could have easily mended!” Han Su-Yeong shouted, her impatience boiling over. “You possess a writer’s attribute, don’t you? If you’ve been consuming my novel since the beginning, you should be able to deduce how the climax is intended to unfold. Well? Did you write it? You stepped in and finished it for me, didn’t you??”

Yu Jung-Hyeok observed her in silence. After a long pause, he slowly shifted his gaze toward the window.

Han Su-Yeong’s voice began to quiver. “You... You couldn’t have....”

“Do you believe I should have written it?”

“What kind of absolute nonsense are you spewing, you bastard?! Obviously, you should have!”

“Do you truly believe it is reasonable to write a fantasy where our wishes come true as the conclusion to this story?” He watched as Han Su-Yeong’s expression hardened, then continued. “Han Su-Yeong, no matter how desperately we reach for it, this story is not the same as the lives we genuinely lived.”

“....You think I am unaware of that....”

Of course, she knew. If anything, she felt it more profoundly than anyone else.

She experienced this devastating sense of detachment with every sentence she drafted. Regardless of how precise her word choices were or how painstakingly she crafted each emotion, it was impossible to encapsulate the history they shared or perfectly replicate the Kim Dok-Ja who once existed in this world.

“It is not as if I did not attempt it. I utilized the Fables I still carried and tried to pen the final episode, just as you did. However....”

To recreate Kim Dok-Ja, the Fables of the companions were brought together. One piece, then another... The fragments they remembered were accumulated to build an imaginary version of ‘Kim Dok-Ja’.

⸢....You wish to know what my boy was like when he was young?⸥

⸢The ‘Dok-Ja’ ahjussi I remember was....⸥

⸢I’m telling you, hyung really did that! For real!⸥

One percent of Kim Dok-Ja, then two percent...

Countless people remembered him, and a Kim Dok-Ja assembled in such a way could potentially have reached 99 percent accuracy.

“Even if Kim Dok-Ja returned to us alive through the narrative we constructed, do you truly believe he would be the real Kim Dok-Ja?”

That final one percent... the part of Kim Dok-Ja none of them could recall.

Where would that version of him be left behind in this vast universe?

“Before his soul disbanded, Kim Dok-Ja was the ‘Most Ancient Dream’. Have you never contemplated how illogical that was? Why did that fool never dream of his own happiness?”

Han Su-Yeong snapped back, verging on hysteria. “....Even as the ‘Most Ancient Dream’, you cannot simply reimagine a world at will. Most of the dreaming process occurs purely subconsciously!!”

“In that instance, Kim Dok-Ja’s subconscious must have deemed this conclusion to be the correct one.”

An existence who had never dared to imagine his own joy. The ‘Kim Dok-Ja’ they knew was exactly that sort of man.

“I know that! I knew it better than anyone... Why do you think I started writing this in the first place? Why did I....”

Hot tears splashed onto her feet. She wanted to scream, to grab Yu Jung-Hyeok by the collar and shake him, to force him to provide a different answer. Yet, she found herself incapable.

A voice filled with profound weariness reached her.”

“In order to save someone....”

Han Su-Yeong lifted her chin at Yu Jung-Hyeok’s passing words.

“It was because of your story that I was able to endure until now.”

She glared at him with red, rimmed eyes. “That is not what I wanted to hear from a bastard like you.”

The distant silhouette of the Industrial Complex came into view.

That was their home. The sanctuary where every member of <Kim Dok-Ja Company> once lived. A refuge carved out from a seemingly impossible dream.

Everyone turned their gaze toward it.

Yu Sang-Ah, keeping her hands on the steering wheel, spoke quietly. “....So, that is what transpired. Thank you for sharing the story with us, Jung-Hyeok-ssi.”

No one broke down in tears. No one condemned Yu Jung-Hyeok for his decision. This was not because their grief had lessened, but perhaps because they had grown that much stronger.

It wasn't just Yu Jung-Hyeok’s burden alone.

The companions had found the strength to persist through their remaining days by writing the story, by reading what was already there, and by praying that someone, somewhere, was reading those same lines with them. It was the courage to remain whole even when the miracle they prayed for evaporated before their very eyes.

Now, they could carry on knowing that souls in the distant corners of the universe were reading their story.

Yi Ji-Hye inquired, “....By the way, that novel? Was it well-received?”

“It was adequate.”

“Do you think Dok-Ja ahjussi enjoyed it?”

“Hey, you soot-faced bastard! Did you see the reincarnated Dok-Ja-hyung? How was he?”

As if they were desperate to uncover every secret they had been craving, a barrage of questions descended upon Yu Jung-Hyeok.

He answered calmly. “I have not encountered any reincarnated versions of Kim Dok-Ja. However....” He glanced toward Kim Dok-Ja’s statue as the vehicle accelerated past, then added, “....That fool has definitely read the story. I have a hunch.”

“Dok-Ja ahjussi must be absolutely fuming right now. Not being able to witness the conclusion yet again....”

How would the Kim Dok-Jas of other world-lines perceive this novel’s ending? Han Su-Yeong had no way of knowing. Drafting a perfect conclusion was as daunting as begging an ex-lover to understand why the relationship failed.

“....Wait, the Dok-Ja-ssis from other world-lines won’t decide to invade, will they?”

That query prompted someone to whisper softly.

“That would actually be quite pleasant.”

A profound silence settled over the group. With perfect timing, Yu Sang-Ah activated the music player. Notes cascaded through the air like raindrops. No one looked at another’s face. It was the only courtesy they could manage in such a delicate moment.

Amidst that heavy, tender atmosphere, Han Su-Yeong’s thoughts drifted to the draft of her novel resting inside her notebook PC.

A story without a concluding chapter.

And now, no one would ever know the official ending.

Perhaps, she mused, this world occasionally required a story with such an ending.

“How about we.... start living in the same house again?”

Everyone looked up at the suggestion.

A realization began to wash over Han Su-Yeong.

⸢This was the story that Kim Dok-Ja had bestowed upon them.⸥

The companions had reclaimed their daily lives, and Yu Jung-Hyeok had returned home. This was the conclusion to the journey of <Kim Dok-Ja Company>. The ending that the person they all cherished had wanted to witness was now complete.

Han Su-Yeong abruptly shifted her focus to Yu Jung-Hyeok. “...Okay, fine. Did you ever discover what your ■■ was?”

“Not yet. However, at this juncture, I find it no longer matters whether I ever uncover it or....”

It was exactly at that moment that a strange sensation suddenly assaulted them.