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Chapter 160

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Potato I

1

To be honest, when introducing the last episode, I had a lot of concerns.

Should I call this a conflict between the editor and the original author?

There was sharp disagreement between Oh Dokseo (the editor) and me.

"No matter what, the episode about the [The Admin of All-Play] must be left for the very end of the novel!"

That was Oh Dokseo’s claim.

When I asked why, the response was:

"Are you stupid? That’s the only way to achieve a circular structure! The circular structure, man. How can you resist ending a work with the exact same sentence as the beginning?"

“Hmm.”

There was logic in that aesthetic, but to turn it around, apart from its aesthetic effect, there were only drawbacks.

"Drawbacks? What drawbacks? The circular structure is invincible and divine! It only has strengths, no weaknesses!"

"Dokseo, I’m a regressor. If the beginning and end become the same, the novel could give off the strange impression that [the turn repeats itself] even after it’s over."

"...Ah."

I took a sip of coffee.

"Sure, it would emphasize the idea that this novel is about infinite regression. But when it comes to breaking free from the turn of regression, it would only have negative effects."

There’s another reason too.

I’ve already emphasized this multiple times, but I decided to be as honest with you all as possible.

So, I don’t want to hide why I ended up writing this work—this story, which you could call my "tale"—all the way until the novel\'s ending.

Why bother?

If I were to hide something from you, it would only be for one reason: to hunt down an anomaly. Apart from that, I’m entirely open with you all.

"Indeed... Your goal is to need no longer to regress. So, a circular structure could become a harmful infinite Ouroboros. Wow, you really have to be mindful of every little detail, huh…?"

"Thank you for understanding my concerns."

These worries aren’t the only ones I have.

Every episode has its own set of concerns. Sometimes, they’re about matters that involve someone’s privacy too much.

In such cases, I generally get permission from the person involved before turning it into a story. For example, I sought approval from the Saintess of the 800th turn regarding an event that happened with the Saintess of the 600th turn.

Today\'s episode is no different.

The protagonist of this tale was a Saintess. So, after telling her everything, I politely asked for her permission in advance.

"...Did that really happen?"

"Yes. It may be hard to believe, but it did. So, may I write about what happened to you, Saintess?"

"Well... Hmm, yes. Writing a novel itself acts as a pressing stone to suppress divine anomalies. If I can help, it’s fine."

The Saintess hesitated, which was rare. Then, after a brief silence, she whispered cautiously.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but her voice seemed a bit shaky.

"...Um, Doctor Jang. So, did it really happen?"

2

It really happened.

One day, as usual, I was going about my schedule as a regressor.

Then, I received a familiar telepathic message from the Saintess.

[Doctor Jang, I’m sorry, but could we postpone this week’s study session until tomorrow?]

"Yes? Oh, yes. That’s fine."

For reference, the Saintess and I had a study session every Wednesday.

We usually read philosophy texts. It was a tradition we started from the 63rd turn.

"There’s nothing wrong, is there?"

[No, it’s okay. Thank you for your concern.]

"No problem. As long as everything’s fine."

I said this casually, but inwardly, I was a little surprised.

The Saintess was so serious about our study sessions that she once insisted on keeping the schedule right after defeating a Meteor Shower, saying, "By the way, it’s Wednesday today. Let’s do the study session."

But now she was postponing it? The concept of "postponing time" actually existed for the Saintess?

[Doctor Jang, I’m really sorry, but could we postpone the study session one more day?]

What was even more surprising was that the next day, she postponed it again!

I became very serious. This didn’t make sense. It would be more believable if Sim Aryeon had suddenly stopped using social media.

"Saintess, are you sure nothing is wrong? This is the first time you’ve voluntarily postponed the study session twice in a row."

[…….]

"In my experience, first-time occurrences are almost always related to anomalies. If you don’t give me a satisfactory answer, I’ll have no choice but to assume the worst, that some anomaly has ensnared you."

[No, um. No… Yes. Yes, that’s right. You’re an expert, after all. Maybe I should rely on you.]

"Where are you now? What’s going on?"

[It\'s very, very difficult to explain.]

The Saintess, who used to say, "This is a very easy concept," even when explaining Kant\'s transcendental idealism during our study sessions, was now expressing difficulty.

[Could you please come directly to my house?]

So I went.

The Saintess’s house in Yongsan was always filled with a pleasant scent of water. Inside, tropical fish swam in various aquariums of different sizes.

However, there was a faint layer of algae on the glass walls of the aquariums, which were usually kept spotless.

For someone with an obsession with cleanliness—who used chopsticks even to eat potato chips—to allow algae in her tanks?

‘This is definitely an abnormal situation!’

I clenched my fist.

"Where are you, Saintess?"

[Please come to the kitchen.]

So I went.

The kitchen, befitting someone who lived alone, was simple. A small table, designed with the certainty that it would never have to serve two people.

And in the middle of that table sat an unfamiliar object. A potato.

"……?"

Yes. A single potato sat there.

It seemed out of place, but I ignored it. There were more important matters at hand.

[Doctor Jang, thank you for coming all the way here.]

"Huh? Oh, yes. But where are you? You’re not hiding, are you?"

[I’m right here.]

The Saintess could send telepathic messages either as voice or as text. This time, it was text.

[ → → → ]

[ ← ← ← ]

[ ↓ ↓ ↓ ]

I followed the direction indicated by the Saintess\'s messages. And where my gaze finally landed, yes, there it was.

Another potato.

"……?"

[Yes, I\'m right here.]

I tilted my head. Then, as if equipped with a sensor that detected my gaze, the potato rolled slightly in response.

"……???"

[Here I am.]

I tilted my head the other way. Once again, the potato lightly rolled in the direction of my gaze.

I began to check my sanity.

The dice in my brain rolled, and I passed.

Realization struck me like lightning, whether I wanted it to or not.

"...Saintess?"

[Yes.]

"Please tell me it’s not true."

At that moment, the potato performed an astonishing trick. It rolled a full circle in place and then stopped upright.

It was a “stand.” According to potato behavior studies, the subtle nod it made just now would be considered a “bow.”

What the hell.

[I’m sorry. I’ve... turned into a potato.]

There’s no point in hiding it.

The Saintess had turned into a potato.

3

Even faced with the development of “a companion suddenly turning into a potato,” something that had never appeared in any web novel, I managed to maintain my composure.

It wasn’t easy, even for a regressor who had chosen countless ways to die.

[Thank you for helping me. I tried to handle it independently, but I couldn’t stop worrying about being unable to feed the fish.]

“……”

Do potatoes have feelings? The scholarly urge to ask that question bubbled up within me, but I held it back.

That wasn’t easy either.

I cleaned the aquariums and fed the tropical fish on behalf of the Saintess.

Only after finishing those chores did I calmly engage in a one-on-one conversation with the Saintess... well, that is, I placed a cushion on the table, set the potato on it, and made eye contact with the potato...

Where exactly is the potato’s gaze?

On closer inspection, I noticed that the sprout growing from the potato\'s eye was blue.

To be more precise and avoid the ambiguity of the Korean language, this "blue" was not green but sky blue. Was it reflecting the Saintess\'s hair color?

Unable to hold back any longer, I asked.

"Saintess, I’m not sure if this is the right question... but how did you become a potato?"

[I suspect it’s the work of an anomaly.]

Of course, it would be.

[I think I may have been cursed.]

Naturally, it must have been a curse.

[I want to clarify that my mind and consciousness are still intact. It seems this anomaly only transformed my physical body into a potato.]

“What’s the cause? Did you, by any chance, wander into a forbidden area during a walk or burn hundreds of potatoes in a bonfire and incur the wrath of potato spirits? Did you violate some taboo?”

[No. Except for a bug getting in my eye during a walk a few days ago, nothing unusual happened.]

"A bug in your eye?"

[Yes, just a little flying insect. Other than that small incident, I have no clue what could have caused this.]

This was driving me crazy.

To get straight to the point, even as a seasoned regressor, I couldn’t cure the Saintess’s potato state. Four days of treatment efforts all ended in failure.

Please don’t blame my incompetence. I can assure you that even if you brought in the most experienced regressor from any piece of fiction, they wouldn’t have figured it out either.

[Doctor Jang, it’s okay.]

The person who should have been the most frantic about this situation was, in fact, the calmest.

Though she had no more sanity left to lose or legs to leap with, Saintess Potato remained absurdly composed.

Speaking from inside my shoulder bag, the Saintess potato said:

[I can still perform my duties as a Constellation, watch over the awakened with clairvoyance, and send telepathic messages just fine.]

“With all due respect, Saintess, your current appearance casts a serious doubt on the very concept of ‘normal.’”

[So far, there haven’t been any problems.]

Indeed.

Amazingly, even in this degraded state, the Saintess continued her Constellation duties as usual.

At that moment, I became the first person in human history to feel a sense of respect for a potato.

It wasn’t exactly a hall of fame I wanted to be in.

“…Are you uncomfortable in any way?”

[No, but I would appreciate it if you could occasionally take care of my fish, like now. Oh, and…]

The potato peeked out of the shoulder bag. How? I have no idea.

[My body feels a bit dry.]

“…Well, you are a potato, after all.”

[No, I mean it feels like my body is craving soil, water, and sunlight. It’s hard to describe, but that’s the sensation I’m getting. Could you possibly help with that?]

“Hmm.”

At this point, my brain finally hit its breaking point.

And anyone who has watched me long enough would know that once I reach my limit, I tend to let go of myself.

If you can’t avoid it, enjoy it.

If you can’t enjoy it, pass it on.

“Of course, I’ll help.”

Enjoyment mode, ON.

I immediately took the Saintess potato and kicked open the door to Chief Noh Doha’s office.

“What the hell is this…?”

The expression on Noh Doha’s face after hearing the whole story was truly worth seeing.

It was so priceless that it would be worth creating a webtoon solely to capture that face.

Seeing Noh Doha’s facial muscles twitch relieved some of the weight in my heart. After all, I couldn’t be the only one suffering.

“You’re telling me this potato is really the Saintess? Huh? Doctor Jang, you’re seriously asking me to believe this?”

“The Saintess’s voice echoing in your mind right now is your proof.”

“Why… why is something like this happening…?”

“We don’t know the cause either. But Chief Noh Doha, isn’t your ability [Prosthetic Creation]?”

Noh Doha frowned deeply.

Well, Noh Doha was a former government official. Telling a bureaucrat, “Come to think of it, weren’t you good at making presentations?” is bound to make their eyebrows twitch.

“So what…?”

“The prosthetics you create can move as freely as real limbs. Now, even in this state, the Saintess is still an awakened being. If Chief Noh Doha were to create prosthetics for the potato…”

“Aha. So now you want me to make prosthetics for a potato? Do you want to die…?”

“Why? Are you against it? Chief, are you perhaps a potato-hater?”

“You… you’re talking nonsense… How do you expect me to make prosthetics for a potato…?”

They were made.

After 15 days of production, the Saintess’s custom prosthetics were completed, resembling something like a Goliath from StarCraft.

Or perhaps the Tripods from Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds.

Either way, the design was far too futuristic for modern humanity.

The slender main body was connected to robotic arms and legs, with a potato riding inside.

“Saintess, how does it feel? Do they work like real limbs?”

[One moment.]

Creeeak—

Amazingly, the robotic arms and legs worked perfectly. The "potato robot" was fully capable of bipedal walking.

[Yes, it moves well.]

“Ooooooh!”

I shouted in excitement in the lab.

It was truly moving. What evolutionary biologist could have predicted this? Who would have guessed that the next species to master bipedalism after primates would be… potatoes?

“Chief Noh Doha, we did it! This is a remarkable discovery for humanity!”

[That’s right. Thank you so much, Noh Doha. Thanks to you, I can now live a full life again.]

“……”

Despite our enthusiastic gratitude, Noh Doha remained silent. The light in his eyes had died.

“Seriously, and you still expect me to believe you’re not anomalies but actual human allies…?”

“Oh, of course. Who else cares for people as much as we do?”

“Damn it. You guys just scream anomaly no matter how I look at it…”

Creeeak— Creeeak—

Even while Noh Doha and I were conversing, the Saintess continued testing the movements of her robotic joints.

[Hmm.]

The Saintess potato, seated in the robot, gave a slight nod.

Maybe it was just my imagination (even as a master of physiognomy, I’m still a bit inexperienced in reading the expressions of potatoes).

But the Saintess seemed quite pleased.