Ivan Petrovich, who had been waiting comfortably for the ending, dreaming of escaping this tiresome other world and enjoying a cold can of beer with dried pollack, finally realized at this point that all his experiences were merely "background setting."
And the genre of this game wasn't a strategic simulation where he had to prevent fierce wars against the Demon King's army.
Nor was it a traditional RPG where he formed a party to overthrow the Demon King's tyranny.
It was, surprisingly, an "Academy Genre."
This was Ivan's 30th year of transmigration.
ep2. The Retired Soldier Wants to Rest.
St. Vasilisha Orphanage is one of the wealthiest orphanages in the kingdom.
For an orphanage to be wealthy, several conditions are usually necessary.
Either it has a good location within the administrative influence of the capital.
Or it has political symbolism as "the first orphanage for war orphans" when a war-torn kingdom begins reconstruction.
If the orphanage director has built connections among influential figures and high nobles in society, along with a few other reasons, one can surprisingly create the paradoxical entity of a "wealthy" orphanage.
For reference, St. Vasilisha Orphanage fulfilled all those conditions.
"Hmm."
Ivan frowned as he rubbed the goosebumps rising on his forearm.
If there was anything he had learned through his long military service, it was that one should never ignore the feeling that something bad was about to happen.
"Children, sprinkle some salt!"
"Yes~!"
Watching the children run out giggling, he let out a deep sigh.
It's been four years since the Demon King died, but the game still hasn't ended. If the epilogue is this long, isn't there a problem?
Are there more conditions? Surely the ending condition isn't something like "the hero dies of old age"? I'd rather go back quickly.
By this point, Ivan was diligently writing down a list of "foods to eat when I return to Earth," desperately rummaging through memories that were gradually fading.
With the mindset of a sergeant waiting for his discharge date, desperately.
Canned beer, dried pollack, honey butter chips, nachos with cheese sauce, tuna mayo, kimchi stew.
Damn, I should underline kimchi stew three more times. It's been 30 years since I last ate kimchi. Can't leave out kimchi jjim or stir-fried kimchi either.
And all kinds of alcohol except vodka and wine. If possible, I'd like to drink Northeast Asian alcohol.
Living among monsters who eat pickled cucumbers or mushrooms as bar snacks makes even puffed rice snacks seem appealing.
"Sigh..."
Ivan stopped mid-step as he was walking wearily.
He sensed someone in his office where no one should be. An adult, and a well-trained soldier at that.
His previously drooping eyes sharpened. Then he carefully took a step forward. This time without muffling his sound, as naturally as possible.
Thud, thud.
As if he hadn't noticed anything, emphasizing his defenseless state, he walked in a straight line to the wooden door with the director's nameplate, while...
'One person.'
His senses were already in the animal realm. Anyone who had spent years in the Annihilation Squad could perform such acrobatics.
The presence beyond the wooden door momentarily froze. Gauging his position, the person slowly put a hand to their waist and bent slightly.
So that even if the other person shot a crossbow as soon as the door opened, it would miss his head position. An old habit.
"It's been a while, senior!"
As soon as he turned the doorknob, the unfamiliar visitor called out brightly. It meant they had no intention to attack. Ivan recognized the identity of the other person as soon as he heard the voice and relaxed his shoulders.
When he opened the door completely, a neatly dressed uniformed soldier was waving at him.
"Have you been well? Oh my, I should have visited you more often!"
"You should have come through the main gate."
"Come on, when have we ever worked that way?"
The soldier laughed briefly, "Ahaha," and stepped back. His gaze briefly swept over Ivan's waist and sleeve.
"State your business."
"Why so urgent! First, let's have some tea and catch up on old stories, shouldn't we?"
While saying this, he pulled out a small letter from his breast pocket.
He placed the letter carefully on the table with his snow-white gloved hand, very cautiously.
High-quality paper and fine wax seal.
A chrysanthemum-shaped stamp pressed firmly on it.
As soon as he confirmed this, Ivan instinctively backed away from the table.
"Oh, is that blasphemy?"
"Why would Colonel Kirillovna want me...?"
"She's the Minister of the Royal Household now. When you retired, she was already a brigadier general, wasn't she?"
"So why is she looking for me? If my memory serves me right, when I retired..."
"Yes. She told you to live quietly without drawing attention. It's amazing that you believed that literally and left. Her Royal Highness couldn't eat for three days."
He chuckled and pushed the letter, which had been pushed to the edge of the table, back toward Ivan.
"Read it. A personal letter from the Princess would fetch whatever price you ask at a memorabilia auction."
"..."
With the feeling of disarming a magical device on the verge of explosion, he carefully reached out and gently peeled off the wax seal, taking care not to smudge it.
With a crisp "pop," the envelope opened smoothly. When the gold-threaded letter paper appeared, his hand stopped abruptly.
"What's wrong? Her Highness might just be asking how you're doing?"
"Hardly."
Elizabeta Kirillovna Krasilov. Or by her more familiar nickname during the height of the frontline, "The Iron-Blooded" Liza. This woman wouldn't send an envoy just to "ask how you're doing" in an ordinary way.
She'd sooner poison the letter paper.
Surely there's no poison on this...
"Oh, just read it."
Ivan gathered the courage to open the letter only after hesitating once more.
A letter written in elegant handwriting, as if typed on a typewriter, appeared.
[Vanka, have you been well?]
Already don't want to read this. Ivan swallowed dryly.
[I've heard news of you occasionally. It seems you're doing well.
For the first few months, I thought it was fortunate, but not since then.
Regrettably, I'm not doing well right now.]
Whoever made this woman "not do well" must be paying the price.
[Do you remember when we were struggling to tend the garden together?
I had hoped we could have tea parties, but you left without even looking back.]
The time when we burned down demon residential areas, established a military government, and exploited the "pacified" demons?
Of course I remember.
[Afterwards, I briefly thought:
Well, fine. Vanka, even without you, the garden we've worked so hard to cultivate won't be ruined.
Winter has passed, and when the snow melts, the flowering season will come.
Then perhaps someday, you might come to see the garden you created.]
Ivan unconsciously muttered.
Me? To the palace? Why...?
[But the seasons have turned, and winter is coming again, Vanka.
The servants, grown fat and lazy, no longer care for the garden.
And wildflowers no longer grow among the weeds and wild beasts that flourish in the garden.
A colder and quieter winter than last is coming.
I saw mistletoe covering dying shrubs.]
Now he realized the purpose of this letter.
Ivan instinctively let out a long sigh before reading the final paragraph.
[Vanka, my most trusted woodsman.
If you have any wishes, I will repay them threefold.
If the compensation is insufficient, I'll pay with our friendship.
If even that doesn't settle the account, I'll pay with our memories.
The kingdom still needs your dedication.
As it always has, and will continue to.
With affection, Kirillovna.]
Only after reading the not-so-long letter several more times carefully did he turn his head, pressing his stiff eyes.
-Tap, tap, tap.
For a moment, he fell into thought while tapping the table with his fingertips.
"Your answer?"
"The situation first."
"It's very difficult. The military government begs to withdraw every day, and Crown Prince Alexandr is plotting to divide and sell the country into five parts. Our 'Great King' still sits saying nothing."
The man continued, sneering.
"But tada! Remember St. Yansk University? The international university established during the war?"
"What about it?"
"I got an advance look at this year's new students and faculty list. Want to see this?"
The man took out a notebook and handed it to Ivan, saying:
"The Saintess has taken a faculty position. As a full professor of theology. And after going through all this... the students, ah. Familiar names appear one after another, right?"
-Daughter of Hero Maximillian. Isabelle.
-Son of Knight Gil Ber. Oskar.
-Daughter of Mage Beolgrin. Elfihera.
-Daughter of Berserker Einar. Asidis.
-Disciple of Thief Enrique. Lucia.
And on top of that, Saintess Patricia, who was appointed as a professor this year.
It's like a picture-perfect "Hero Party" lineup.
"Of all things, our great late king abolished the age restriction for admission to Yansk University! As long as you pass the entrance exam, they accept you regardless of whether you're young or old, and this is the result!"
St. Yansk University is one of the top prestigious institutions in the entire United Kingdom,
And this damn otherworldly "prestigious university" doesn't look at the age of its students.
Whether very young or very old.
Regardless of age, it fairly opens its doors to anyone who passes the incredibly difficult entrance exams, interviews, and conditions like having recommendation guarantors.
This is where the problem arises.
After killing the Demon King, the Hero Party each headed toward their respective hometowns.
Some became nobles, some went into seclusion. But they have one thing in common.
Anyone from that party is considered a legendary hero in their respective homeland.
This means that each of their actions could cause international conflict situations. Especially if it involves their children studying abroad.
"Our prince is trying to sell the country, and oh my goodness, such a thing happens right in the middle of the capital? What will happen then?"
If anyone among them dies or gets hurt, this country is finished.
"What do you want me to do?"
"We've created a staff position for you. Not a professor or assistant position. A gardener. Well, universities have street trees too, right?"
"..."
The man continued, pointing at the list in his notebook.
"Until these kids return to their countries without a scratch. Just 3 years. It could be shorter if they drop out."
Ivan finished his calculations at this point.
Colonel Kirillovna... that is, our Princess, urgently needs an agent who is no longer on the military register.
Using an active agent would leave traces that the prince's faction might detect, but using just any retired agent means not knowing who might have sided with the prince's faction.
But tada, there was one suitable person embedded near the capital.
Someone whose loyalty need not be questioned, whose abilities have already been proven, and who has quietly secluded himself after retirement without any political involvement, yet whose location is clearly known for immediate contact.
That miraculous person was Ivan.
Ivan, who had been quietly waiting for the ending and preparing to cross over to Earth to chew, tear, taste, and enjoy the beautiful food of modern civilization, realized an astonishing fact at this moment.
The Demon King died, but instead of the Hero Party saying "and they lived happily ever after~" and reaching the ending.
Against the backdrop of chaotic international politics and ominous domestic political landscape, this situation where suddenly a "international university" appears and notables from around the world rush to enroll their children...
After 30 long years, a genre familiar to any South Korean citizen came to mind...
"Shit."
"Pardon?"
Kim Seon-woo, who had been dormant for a long time, suddenly awoke.
"Shit. This was an Academy Genre?"
"Senior...?"
The man looked at Ivan, sweating coldly.
This was a rare sight even during his active duty days. That appearance of violently venting anger.
And, naturally.
As someone who knew him during his active duty, the man froze at the killing intent that was oozing out steadily.
While sweating coldly and wondering what those words meant.
Ivan closed his eyes tightly, trying to suppress and control Kim Seon-woo's boiling anger, and said:
"Ivan Petrovich... I accept Her Highness's command."
'Let me just go home now.'
Three years.
After waiting 30 years, what's three more years?
If I wait just three more years, I might see the ending.
This was how the gardener came to be at the Academy.