I'll translate this text following all the guidelines provided.
Enrique had to work overtime again today. This was because she unexpectedly had to teach four classes, totaling 18 credits per week. Her overtime work was now entering its second month.
This country didn't even have overtime pay, which was a serious violation of human rights. (Vampires are not guaranteed basic rights. Moreover, Krasilov has no labor rights.)
While substitute teaching wasn't difficult for someone with her experience, the course curriculum was the problem. Shouldn't someone who assigns a lecture to another person at least provide a syllabus or materials?
"First, I need to turn him into one of my kind."
This was an issue she couldn't give up on. With this one thing, numerous problems would be solved. If he keeps trying to climb up, one "Elder's Command" would solve it, and since he'd have to move around only at night for a while, there would be a reason to confine him to his quarters during the day.
The resolution of the lifespan issue would be just a minor benefit.
"Maybe I should have done it when he was younger. Oh, that beard, really..."
When one becomes a vampire, most bodily functions stop. This is especially true for areas where body hair grows. If she had taken care of it when his face was still smooth, he wouldn't have thought about growing a beard.
She held back because forcibly grabbing and shaving him now would only give her a fifty-fifty chance of success.
"I can supply blood packs, and he'll be a nightwalker for about two hundred years, so if I train him well from the beginning... *slurp*"
Wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth, Enrique returned to her cold and deadly expression, finishing her class preparation with lighter hand movements.
After some time passed, Enrique stretched her stiff shoulders. With a cracking sound, she shuddered.
"Good. Perfect. Once finals are over, finally... finally it's over..."
If there had been just one more professor as diligent as me, St. Yansk University would have been renowned as the world's best institution, she thought with tears in her eyes. (She has a history of skipping 2/3 of her classes last semester.)
-Knock knock.
"Leave it at the door."
"I can't."
In response to Enrique's words, the professor's office door swung open with a brief reply.
"Eek?!"
"It's been a while."
Enrique turned around, startled by the familiar voice.
The teacup in her hand fell to the floor with a clang. The coffee soaked all the class materials she had been preparing, but she didn't even have time to care.
"Uh... um... eh? How...?"
"What is it?"
"Why...?"
Enrique's pupils dilated. The sudden shock seemed to scramble her thoughts.
Ivan briefly reflected on the sight. Even vampires are vulnerable to the passage of time, he thought. It was quite surprising that even the vampire plague couldn't be a cure for dementia.
Basically, shouldn't long-lived species have strong resistance to aging? Well, since they're based on human brains, they might not be able to withstand more than two hundred years.
"Ivan... you...?"
"Hmm."
"Are you, are you okay...? Eh...? Um...??"
Clear drool trickled down the corner of Enrique's mouth. Ivan frowned and took a step back.
"Your beard...?!"
At her words, Ivan reflexively stroked the place where his beard "had been," then lowered his empty hand.
He silently nodded.
"It was a royal command."
"Finally!!!! I believed in you, Elize!!!"
Side ep. Shaving the Beard, and Then.
It happened when he was lying in the most splendid guest room of the Palace de Royal, receiving dedicated treatment from priests.
Due to extreme fatigue and caloric deficiency, Ivan would faint several times a day. This was beyond a matter of willpower, something even he couldn't anticipate or prepare for.
And each time he opened his eyes, he had the strange experience of finding the nursing staff had been replaced.
"So brother, let me tell you what I did then. Listen to this. 'That's not the count!!' Ha, the status window performance was insane. Right?"
"Hmm."
Yu-jin came to chat enthusiastically before leaving.
"You never once visited me when I was sick, but look at me coming to see you. Now do you see how big-hearted I am?"
"Hmm."
"I'm someone who needs hospital visits too! See this? I almost lost my arm at this time!"
Isabelle, who boasted about her injuries like medals, eventually left without doing anything.
"Uncle, lift your leg. I'll change your bandages."
"I'll do it."
"Tsk, stay still! Do you know how many times I've changed bandages for my uncles!"
Asidis tried to change the bandages, but ended up tearing the wound when removing the splint, then ran away sobbing. (The Droan Kingdom's Huskarls tended to forgive her no matter what she did.)
"Krasilov is cold, isn't it?"
"Hmm."
"Kalion is warm all year round. Winter is just a bit chilly? That's by human standards, of course. For elves, it's just a clear day."
"...?"
Elves are a race that feels the cold intensely. Ivan didn't bother to question it, but he had to deduct points from Elfihera's basic knowledge.
The reason Kalion was warm wasn't due to latitude but magic. It was because of vast ancient magic scattered throughout the archipelago that made the temperature favorable for elves.
"You know you need to stay warm in winter, right? Especially when you're injured. Hmm. Oh, don't look this way."
Strangely, Elfihera was looking only at the floor as she spoke. She said what she wanted to say and then left. It was quite a useless act for nursing or a hospital visit.
It would have been better to train or tend to injuries sustained in battle during that time.
As the visits continued without end, Ivan finally had to call for a servant. A "No Visitors" sign was placed on his room.
And when he fainted again, he could close his eyes with some relief, thinking he would at least wake up in peace.
"..."
He did wake up in peace. The numerous people in the room didn't dare make even a breathing sound as they turned their backs and faced the wall.
"Sob... sniff..."
As the ruler of Krasilov traditionally never showed tears to anyone but God.
Ivan had to understand why the servant hadn't blocked the visitor. How could anyone stop the person who held the most powerful authority in the country at this moment?
"...Your Majesty?"
"Sniff... sob..."
Elizabeta was sitting by his bedside, quietly sobbing. Raising her head at Ivan's words, she quietly swallowed her breath and spoke.
"Are you still in pain...? The priest couldn't find the problem. If anything happens to you, I promise that priest will be a dead man that very day."
"It's not that. I'm fine."
Ivan was more aware of his physical condition than anyone. When injuries exceed a certain level, the human body shuts down unnecessary functions to focus on healing.
This is the same kind of technique he uses to block certain sensory organs to concentrate on battle.
Although his physical state had nearly reached its limit, causing him to occasionally faint beyond his will, this was actually a symptom to be viewed positively. It meant his body still had the strength to attempt healing.
"Is that so? Then... yes. I'll believe you, Vanka. As I always have."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Fortunately, after hearing Ivan's explanation, Elizabeta nodded obediently.
"Of course I always believe, but I'm always betrayed."
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
"Yet I find myself believing your words again. Isn't that strange? Just like a wife with a gambling husband. Hehe. Tomorrow will be different. The day after will be better, believing that and being betrayed every day..."
"...Yes...?"
Elizabeta's face was bowed, fortunately hidden in shadow.
"I brought you in because I felt sorry for you retiring and growing old alone, but you return nearly dead every quarter. You handle tasks no one asked you to do and then make that self-satisfied face like 'I have accomplished this for Krasilov.'"
Her soft whisper gradually became rougher.
"That was cute, but at least do it safely. I don't mind what you do, but you should return with your body intact... Now reports even come in saying you've died..."
"I personally ordered Pavel to reflect on his actions."
For a subordinate who misjudged his commander's life or death to end with just a reprimand was an extremely generous measure. Ivan raised his head confidently.
"The one I want to order to reflect is not him but you!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Ivan bowed his head somewhat dejectedly.
"Ignoring all of my trivial requests! At the very least, at the very least your beard! Just a little... just trim it a little!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"See that! Even when I say this, you boldly refuse! Wait, wait, wait! What...? What did you say?"
"I will follow your royal command."
Ivan spoke calmly.
His life was not limited to reminiscing about past heroes. He wasn't just imitating and following those who had been with him in distant times; the time spent together itself constituted his life.
After losing Gil Ber, he had barely realized this. Ivan decided to no longer be bound by the lingering attachments of those who had passed.
He must move forward. He must excel beyond this. The Hero Party is not yet ready, and the world is not kind to any of us.
Moreover, fundamentally, beards are difficult to maintain and a factor that negatively affects hygiene. If it weren't for his respect for the previous king, he wouldn't have thought of growing one in the first place.
So this was rather fortunate. Especially if it was being requested by the only blood relative of the previous king.
"Is anyone there!! Bring a sharp knife immediately!!"
Elizabeta jumped up with an excited face and shouted. When a startled guard handed her the sword from his waist, she struck him once and obtained a razor.
Ivan closed his eyes bitterly as he watched his beard being cut off with a scraping sound.
With the feeling of graduating from old memories.
The journey to Krasilov was smooth. In fact, it had to be. People in their right minds wouldn't pick a fight with an army led by the (enraged) monarch of Krasilov.
Given that they were traveling by train, one might expect at least one bandit attack, as was normal for academy return trains, but Ivan was able to enjoy a comfortable train journey with somewhat novel feelings.
If there was one thing that was hard to bear, it would be Elizabeta's behavior.
"Now, Vanka. Open your mouth."
"Your Majesty. I also have hands—"
"That's right."
Where did she procure apples at this time of year? And why is it that whenever someone is wrapped in bandages and lying down, people keep trying to feed them sliced apples?
With these questions in mind, Ivan chewed the apple that unexpectedly entered his mouth.
Seeing this, Elizabeta nodded her head vigorously with a pleased expression.
"That's right. You must chew thoroughly. If you just swallow, you might choke."
"Your Majesty, I am not a child."
"Aren't you?"
"...?"
Ivan was momentarily speechless at the words of his sovereign, who was almost eight lifetimes younger than him. But Elizabeta's eyes were extremely serious.
"Doing everything you're told not to do, coming back beaten up from who knows where, constantly getting injured and collapsing, never contacting home no matter what—how is that different from a child? I have used the Krasilov language for many years, but I don't know another word for such a case."
"In my dictionary, that's called a soldier."
"Hehe, jokes too. If you were just a soldier, you'd be court-martialed."
Elizabeta laughed brightly with humorless eyes.
Ivan felt a chill and suddenly tried to get up, but a swift white hand pressed his forehead and made him lie down again.
"Are you uncomfortable somewhere? You can tell me. Was my knee uncomfortable? By the way, if your answer is yes, it constitutes blasphemy."
"No, Your Majesty."
"Hehe, that's right. Good boy."
Ivan was now lying wrapped in bandages and splints all over his body. This was because he had thoroughly shattered his ribs, left shoulder, and both legs.
It would normally be difficult to move, but Ivan is superhuman. And superhumans can easily force their bodies to move as long as their magical power functions.
With sufficient training, one can move as long as their head isn't cut off. So the current treatment was excessive.
It was a situation where one should worry about insurance premium overestimation. (Insurance services do not exist in Krasilov.)
"Now, would you like more water? Or would you like more apple?"
"I'm fine."
Ivan quietly sighed as he lay with his head on the lap of Krasilov's Iron-Blooded Monarch, looking out the train window.
"What is there that I cannot do for you? Tell me anything."
Elizabeta smiled warmly and stroked Ivan's smooth cheek. Unable to dare reject her touch, Ivan just loyally closed his eyes.
The attendant present turned his head away, unable to dare witness the monarch's unseemly behavior. To reconsider once more, blasphemy was better than death. Watching such things made one feel like dying from a twisted stomach.
The train arrived smoothly in Krasilov.
Upon disembarking, Ivan had to be dragged to the palace infirmary and detained. Since Elizabeta was the jailer, he couldn't even attempt to escape.
Being fed daily piles of eels, oysters, various nuts, and strange salads containing celery and garlic.
Finally, after dedicating a full month to treatment, he was officially able to return. Since his official position was professor rather than counterintelligence commander, he headed to the university the next day.