# Enhanced Translation
In the orphanage director's office, the suspiciously wealthy foreign benefactor caused quite a commotion upon learning that Ivan had no bedroom, before finally getting to the main point.
The Saintess calmly listened to Ivan's story (mostly told by Enrique) and then took a sip of tea.
At least one Transmigrator at the university, possibly as many as three.
"How strange."
"Huh?"
"Enrique. Haven't you heard? Those who are brought here typically appear only two or three times per century."
"Oh, right?"
"How many are there now?"
The Saintess put down her tea and folded her hands.
Her eyes had deepened now, like those of a high priestess.
"Maximillian, the Demon King, and Ivan. That makes three. I don't know if there are more elsewhere, but even if there are, it would be at most one or two people I don't know about."
"...Huh?"
"And that's just in the past twenty years."
The time when the Demon King appeared, when Maximillian appeared, and when Ivan appeared.
That period spans just twenty years. Not even a century—not even a single generation has passed.
"The stories of the Demon King and Maximillian have ended. Whatever story the Kirilts brother is part of, its conclusion can't be far off. But what if others appear here again?"
"Huh? Is that a problem?"
"It's not normal. I served Maximillian, who was one of 'those who were brought here.' Therefore, I know all the church's ancient records about 'those who were brought here.'"
Two or three per century.
When they appear, they inevitably make their mark somewhere.
Each one passionately creates their own narrative, as if crafting their own story.
After concluding the story of their era and disappearing, time passes before others are brought in to turn a new page.
So, in this period after the Demon King's death when all nations have calmed down.
What reason could there possibly be for new Transmigrators to appear?
Even if there are a few countries that have maintained their military strength after the war with the Demon King, and even if there are peripheral conflicts arising from colonial expansion that might be harbingers of danger.
It's still too early. The world is too devastated to face another war. No country currently has the resources to dare launch a full-scale war.
Even if the Demon King were to appear again, would it really be a problem? Most of the Hero Party is still intact, and each country has already completed preparations to check "powerful individuals."
Additionally, the demon race has been scattered, enslaved, or driven from the world. Only remnants remain in distant lands. They no longer have the strength to continue the war.
"How many did you say you suspect?"
"Three."
"Their nationalities?"
"Two from Krasilov. One from Kalion."
"One elf and two humans, then."
The Saintess crossed her arms and fell into thought for a moment.
"Are all three students?"
"Yes."
"And they haven't been verified yet?"
"Hmm."
"Then we should verify them."
The Saintess nodded more readily than expected. Since instances where the word "verification" came from the mouth of a religious person had never been without incident, Ivan wondered if she was planning some kind of inquisition.
"Sort out which of your suspects are truly 'those who were brought here.' And also find out what kind of story they've been brought into. After that, won't we know what stories remain in our era?"
After the stories of the Demon King and Maximillian had ended, what stories could Transmigrators accomplish in this world? What stories had led them here?
Piecing together those fragments to prepare for the future. That was the Saintess's plan.
Of course, this world isn't a plot from a game or novel. Whatever stories they might have experienced in "another world," fictional creations cannot influence the flow of this world.
But people are different. Those influenced by "the story" are different. Whatever mental image a Transmigrator holds, whatever actions they plan to take—these will definitely impact this world.
Just as the Demon King, the Hero, and countless Transmigrators before them did. Transmigrators will inevitably create events, conflicts, and history.
The Saintess nodded and sank into the sofa. After taking another sip of tea, she suddenly asked:
"So, Brother Kirilts. What was your story?"
"I don't know."
"...What? But no matter how long ago it was... didn't you have some kind of intense sense of purpose, or feeling of destiny, or... a story...?"
You must have had at least one...? Since that's how most Transmigrators typically are.
After hesitating at the Saintess's question, Ivan spoke heavily.
"There were too many."
"What...?"
Kim Seon-woo had left malicious comments on 8 games, 11 webtoons, and over 30 web novels during his lifetime.
In various genres, on anything he liked, regardless of what it was.
Ivan carefully explained this. Starting with how in our world, there's a superstition that "you can transmigrate if you criticize authors."
The immature Kim Seon-woo, wanting to transmigrate, followed this superstition and left sharp critiques—or rather, "5,700-character punches of gratitude"—on all sorts of works.
After hearing his calm recollection, Enrique averted her gaze and the Saintess was momentarily speechless.
"Let us repent, brother."
The Saintess firmly held Ivan's hand and infused him with holy power. It felt warm. Warm enough to make a corner of his heart sting.
March, the season when flowers bloom and spring breezes tickle the heart.
Yevgeny, Yu-jin, was reading the Bible while brushing back his flowing black hair. The damned Bible reading time was approaching.
In the theology department's main hall, modeled after a cathedral. Sitting on a bench under verdant trees reading a book—the scene itself was picturesque.
Yu-jin, who had been igniting sparks of corruption in the hearts of many novice nuns, suddenly paused when he noticed a flashing alert in the corner of his vision.
"Huh?"
[Warning!]
"What, what, what is it! What is it this time!! Stop messing around!"
He reflexively hunched his shoulders and looked around. There was no one there.
Again. Again, this cursed Status Window was muttering things only it understood without giving any explanation!
As he was thinking this, the warning message suddenly burst open. This time, surprisingly, it began to provide a "situation explanation."
"What the...?"
[Warning!]
[Survival Instinct lv.3]
[Get up from your seat and walk forward right now.]
[Do not look back.]
[Act naturally.]
[Even if someone calls you...]
Whatever it was, he needed to get away from there. Although the Status Window was so unhelpful it was practically useless, at least it didn't lie.
This concept must be like a Neapolitan ghost story. He covered his forehead with his hand, stood up, and began walking naturally.
The work he had transmigrated into was supposedly "The Northern Duke's Swordsmanship Genius Scoundrel," but this felt more like a title from the Holy Roman Empire...
He wasn't from the Northern Duke's family. He wasn't a swordsmanship genius. And he couldn't even act like a scoundrel!
He bit his lip hard. This was more like SCP... or some cosmic horror setting.
At least this damn Status Window... no, Shit Status Window. From now on, that's your name.
Yu-jin gritted his teeth and struggled to maintain his expression. With a normal, calm face, hiding his trembling hands naturally in his sleeves. Step by step forward.
"Yu-jin."
"Yes?"
Naturally, naturally.
While muttering this to himself, Yu-jin instinctively turned his head when he heard his name called from behind.
He had to at least act like he was in an academy genre story. With a warm and devout smile.
"I was right. Yevgeny is Yu-jin. China, Japan, Korea. Where are you from?"
"!!!!"
A murderous Santa Claus was staring at him from behind a tree.
Yu-jin glanced at the frantically flashing warning window and slowly, very carefully turned his head back.
"Mmm~ yes. Ah, the weather is so nice."
As if he hadn't turned because someone called him, but just to stretch... All while constantly glancing to see if there were any other warnings, or if the damn Status Window was attempting another narrative trick.
-Thud.
A strong hand landed on Yu-jin's shoulder.
Ivan looked into his eyes and thought. His eye movements are awkward. This isn't simply the behavior of someone who is surprised or terrified.
It's clearly the gaze of someone who is conscious of something. Of course, there's nothing in the direction this kid is looking.
Then the most reasonable inference is that 'there's something only he can see.'
"What do you see?"
He didn't know if Transmigrators had any special privileges. At least he had never received any himself.
Had Maximillian been born with some special talent? That was unknown.
But if that were the case.
If "Transmigrators" had something special, based on Kim Seon-woo's "common sense," he could make a few reasonable inferences.
A Status Window, Attribute Window, or something similar.
The thing that commonly appears in early game transmigration stories. A blue display augmented reality screen visible only to oneself, a convenience-oriented feature.
What he had so desperately wanted might possibly be visible to this kid's eyes.
Meanwhile, upon hearing Ivan's words, Yu-jin reflexively thought:
The strange person before him was definitely another "Transmigrator." Probably of Korean origin.
Damn it. A double protagonist...? That's the quickest way to ruin. Isn't that too old-school?
Yu-jin pretended to be as normal as possible. If this other Transmigrator had lived in this world longer than me, would they be more likely to be friendly or hostile?
At the very least, this man had a history of throwing a stone full of killing intent as soon as he recognized him. That means he qualifies as an aggro monster.
Yu-jin's head was spinning. He recalled his first quest.
Kill Ivan Petrovich, or conceal information, or persuade him.
Failure means death.
"Um, wh-who are you...? Do you kn-know me...?"
"I intend to get to know you from now on."
"If you do this, the department head won't, won't stay quiet..."
"This has been authorized by Saintess Patricia."
With the sound of what little devoutness he had shattering, Yu-jin was led away by Ivan's hand.
[Warning -Canceled-]
[Survival Instinct lv.3]
[Get up from your seat and walk forward right now. -Canceled-]
[Do not look back. -Canceled-]
[Act naturally. -Canceled-]
[Even if someone calls you, do not answer. He is not your ally. -Canceled-]
[Leave with the gardener. Do not resist. He is your ally.]
Doesn't one usually die when such messages appear in Neapolitan ghost stories?
Yu-jin stared blankly at the Status Window as he thought.
It was March, with pleasant spring breezes.
Looking down at the peaceful campus scenery, the Saintess quietly made the sign of the cross.
A Transmigrator.
A Transmigrator who had suffered alone for 30 years.
Not knowing his own story, having lost his purpose. A Transmigrator who disappeared after remaining as someone else's supporting character.
She prayed as she watched Ivan's departing figure.
That the taciturn Woodsman would now find a purpose in life.
And that at the end, a handful of happiness would remain in his hands.
"The student you mentioned needed for the 'special class' arrangement... Magic Department, first year, Oswald. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that was the name. Is there a problem?"
"Well... I wouldn't call it a problem. The child himself is an extremely diligent and talented student, but..."
The Magic Department head made a strange expression as he gauged the Saintess's reaction.
He was an elf from the Kalion Archipelago. Until just before the semester began, he had been a renowned magician active in Kalion.
Elves have a small population. Compared to humans, they are vastly fewer in number. Therefore, most descendants of noble families know each other in great detail.
He was no exception. Since students who would come all the way to study abroad would certainly be from powerful families within the Kalion Archipelago, he could easily recall the personal information of the student the Saintess mentioned.
Oswald Eastvelpen. The legitimate son of a prestigious Kalion magic family and the son of a current Privy Councilor. A diligent, intelligent, thoughtful, and talented young nobleman.
A young man with a few minor issues, but promising nonetheless.
Here, the minor issues are:
"He's somewhat... troubled."
"Troubled?"
"He was engaged from birth to the daughter of the Head Privy Councilor, but they broke off the engagement recently. And... well."
How to explain this?
Magic Department Head Ernbert wiped his sweat and sighed.
Elves are, in most cases, nearly perfect beings, but the god who envied such flawlessness left them with one flaw:
Their flaw is "obsession."
(Not pride. For elves, that's simply natural.)
Obsession with success, obsession with honor, obsession with knowledge. The types are diverse, but in this case...
The Head Privy Councilor's daughter, Evelyn Rustfitz, was obsessively fixated on Oswald to an unusual degree.
"The Villain Lady Who Obsesses Over the Genius Magician" was the worst novel of my life.
Damn it. Seriously. It was kindling. I even dropped it after 30 chapters and didn't leave any malicious comments or criticism.
I cleanly departed. The author wouldn't even know me as a reader. So why?
Oswald ignored the sharp gaze he felt on the back of his head and looked up at the sky.
"Life is shit."