Chapter 939

The atmosphere in the teahouse grew cold and heavy.

I had tried to ask as calmly as possible, but judging by the turtle’s expression and his labored breathing, it seemed my words had landed differently than I intended.

A slight tremor ran through his beard.

Though his narrowed eyes weren’t entirely visible, they were unmistakably focused on me, and even the staff he gripped was trembling.

The turtle, who had previously displayed mild irritation, now seemed completely transformed.

Had I made a mistake? While I quietly observed him, he finally spoke, breaking his long-held silence.

“What… what did you just say?”

Was he pretending not to have heard me? Or was he acting as though he hadn’t understood? Either way, I repeated myself.

“I asked if you happen to know a way to travel back to the past or into the future.”

Hearing the same question again, the turtle’s eyebrows twitched violently.

“Why do you ask such a thing?”

His words and reaction gave me pause.

That response…

“Does that mean it’s possible?”

If it weren’t, he could’ve simply said no. His wariness suggested that something did exist.

However, it was clear he was highly reluctant to discuss it.

“I was just curious.”

“Your curiosity is… peculiar.”

“Well, you use such unusual techniques. I was wondering if something like that was possible too. Just a small curiosity.”

I tried to dismiss it lightly as a casual remark, but the turtle’s reaction was anything but casual.

“Then don’t be curious about it.”

“Pardon?”

His voice was unusually solemn and heavy.

“Even if there’s a future you wish to see, don’t seek it. And if there’s a past you regret, leave it as a regret.”

“...”

I adjusted my posture slightly, leaning forward as if to show I was listening carefully.

“Time is what it is. It flows, and it must be left to flow. Once it has passed, it cannot be reclaimed. That’s why it’s called time.”

“…You speak with great authority on this.”

“Even so.”

Tap, tap.

The turtle lightly drummed his fingers on the table, the motion seemingly absentminded.

“If you’re seeking anything related to this, abandon the thought. It’s meaningless.”

“Why is that?”

“Because there is no obsession more futile or cruel than this.”

“...”

An obsession both meaningless and cruel? I had never considered such a perspective before.

I erased the faint smile from my lips and asked, “Why are you so certain of that?”

What makes you so confident? That was the question lingering in my mind.

The faint light in his eyes felt less like someone recounting another’s tale and more like someone speaking from his own experience.

“Do you know what happens to those who obsess over such things?”

The turtle asked me directly.

“I don’t. I’m not one of them. What happens to them?”

I answered his question with another, and he gave me his response.

“They are torn apart—completely.”

“…Excuse me?”

Torn apart? That was an unsettling statement.

“…Physically?”

“No, their souls.”

“Oh, I see.”

Relieved that it wasn’t a physical tearing, I let out a quiet sigh, but the turtle, overhearing it, clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Do you think it’s fortunate that it’s only the soul?”

“Well, it’s not a physical injury, so I thought it might be… less severe.”

“It would be far better to endure it physically. Having your soul torn apart is far more hellish.”

“...”

The notion of a soul being torn apart… It was evident that the turtle regarded it as an incomparably grave matter.

Still, with so little information, it was hard for me to grasp.

“…So what you’re saying is that obsession with this is a bad idea?”

“If you’re eager to be shredded to pieces, go ahead.”

“Sorry, but that’s not really my preference.”

Who would enjoy being torn apart? Well, perhaps there were some out there, but I certainly wasn’t one of them.

“Hm.”

I mentally organized his words. The most important thing to note right now wasn’t anything else but this:

“So, he does know something about it.”

It was clear that the turtle had knowledge of this subject.

“Then, are you saying there hasn’t been a single person who achieved it without their soul being torn apart?”

I took a sip of tea as I posed the question.

“…You’re full of pointless questions.”

“I’ve been curious about this. And since we’re already discussing it, why not share? After all, we do have a connection, don’t we?”

“And what connection would that be?”

“A perfectly balanced, transactional relationship between two unrelated people.”

“...”

“We give and take what’s due. Isn’t that clean and simple?”

“Not even a shred of sentiment in this relationship, is there?”

“You could call it a tidy arrangement instead. So why not just tell me comfortably?”

“Why? Are you thinking of trying it if it’s possible?”

The turtle eyed me warily, and his question made me chuckle.

“No, I have no intention of doing so. I doubt I ever will.”

At this point, I wasn’t interested. Maybe in a past life, I might have been, but not now.

“If I’ve already experienced it, why would I want to do it again?”

If given the chance to turn back time, could it really be called an opportunity? Maybe things could turn out differently. But…

“To go through the same hell again would be unbearable.”

To return to a world where those who knew me now would forget everything, where I’d have to rebuild everything from scratch and work toward a different outcome, exhausting myself in the process.

Once was hell enough. To endure it again? I couldn’t.

Even so, I was curious.

“Even if I have no intention of trying, I can still be curious,” I said.

“Such contradictory words,” the turtle muttered, glaring at me with distaste.

Did he have no intention of sharing? It felt like continuing to press the issue might be a waste of time. Just as I considered shifting the topic, he finally spoke.

“It’s impossible.”

“Impossible?”

“Yes. It’s absolutely impossible to avoid having your soul torn apart, and even if you endure it, no one has ever succeeded.”

“Why is that?”

“Because no being can withstand both the process and the outcome.”

His voice was resolute, carrying an unwavering certainty.

“Even if one were to offer the accumulated karma of their soul, piercing the heavens, their soul would still be torn apart and rejected. To achieve the result while maintaining one’s soul? Such arrogance is absurd.”

His words, tinged with faint sorrow, caused me to frown.

“So, you’re saying it’s possible if someone sacrifices something?”

“…Are you incapable of understanding?”

“No, I understand. From what you’ve said, it seems there’s a way to attempt it, but…”

I paused.

“Even if the method exists, no one can endure it intact, right?”

“...”

“Did I understand you correctly?”

My blunt question was met with silence. As always, silence meant affirmation.

“Hm.”

Crossing his arms, he tilted his head side to side. There was still something I hadn’t asked.

“Elder.”

“…What is it?”

“What if it’s possible?”

“What?”

“No, the thing we were talking about earlier. What if someone succeeded?”

“I told you, it’s impossible.”

“But it’s still possible, isn’t it? You can’t know everything about how the world works.”

“…What exactly are you trying to hear?”

“Exactly what I said. If someone succeeded…”

“That will never happen.”

Bang!

The turtle struck the floor with his staff. The impact rippled through the space, making the surroundings waver as if underwater.

The once-calm teahouse began to distort and melt, as though it were dissolving.

Frowning at the sudden shift in atmosphere, I looked around.

“Leave,” the turtle said.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, leave.”

“But I haven’t finished asking my questions…”

We hadn’t even started talking about the important incantations, and now he wanted me to leave?

“At the very least, I don’t want to continue this conversation with you today.”

“What are you—”

“If you refuse to leave, I will make you. Is that what you want?”

Creak…

The space around us continued to twist and warp. The turtle’s eyes darkened, and in that moment, I felt a profoundly alien sensation emanating from his body.

Buzz.

The five rings coiled around my heart trembled violently.

It was as if they were sending a warning signal.

“…”

Sensing this, I stared at the turtle in silence for a moment before standing up.

“No need. I’ll leave on my own.”

It was clear that staying any longer would only sour the mood further. Somehow, I had touched a nerve.

“…”

The turtle tapped the floor lightly with his staff again.

The rippling space returned to its original state almost instantly, as if nothing had happened.

“I won’t forget the transaction we discussed. Come back later.”

“…When, exactly, would that be?”

“Who knows.”

The turtle turned his gaze toward me and added one last remark.

“You’ll figure it out yourself.”

“…”

That was the last thing he said. Seeing that he had no intention of continuing, I turned and walked out of the building.

“Hm…”

Scratching my head, I sighed.

I’d thought I could get something useful out of him about regression, but apparently not.

‘…Or maybe I did. I didn’t leave completely empty-handed.’

One thing was clear: the turtle knew something. And from what he did reveal, there was a barrier—something that made reversing time an impossibility.

That much, at least, I could take away.

“…It’s not impossible.”

In the end, regression exists. It’s not just some passing rumor.

How could I not know? I had experienced it myself.

The turtle claimed it was absolutely impossible, but standing in front of him was living proof that it wasn’t.

I had regressed.

And that made me even more curious.

‘The turtle said that even if someone sacrifices something tremendous, reversing time is impossible.’

Which meant…

‘If you offer something far greater, doesn’t that mean it is possible?’

I didn’t know what that method might be or what needed to be sacrificed. But if the offering had the right value, wouldn’t regression be achievable?

That’s how I interpreted it.

“…”

Lost in thought, I flexed my fingers idly. Then, mid-step, I suddenly stopped.

Ahead of me, a figure was walking in my direction.

A familiar face with vacant eyes. They glanced around, as if searching for someone.

It was Cheonma.

She walked lightly, scanning her surroundings, and when she spotted me, she waved.

“Oh, there you are.”

“…”

It seemed she had been looking for me. Confirming this, I furrowed my brow.

‘Regression doesn’t come without a price.’

If that’s true…

‘What did you give up?’

What did Cheonma sacrifice to make my regression possible?

And furthermore…

‘Why?’

Why did she regress me? What was she trying to achieve? What was her purpose?

Ever since I realized that Cheonma was the one who orchestrated my regression, I had always wondered.

Even now, as time continues to pass.