Ivan was desperate. He kept talking to prove his usefulness.
"What about that guy?"
"Lily Downer. Second-year in the Knight Department! Level 32. Just average, brother!"
"Then what about that one?"
"Who? Oh, the one with black hair? Mari Philipson, also second-year in the Knight Department! Level 29. Seems she's not very good at studying!"
Ivan looked at Yu-jin with fresh eyes.
To find the transmigrator, Ivan had once skimmed through the profiles of all St. Yansk University undergraduates. While he couldn't remember everything, his long experience in the Annihilation Squad had made him skilled at memorizing personal information.
Ivan realized that this guy's accuracy was nearly 100%.
'A walking profile page...?'
Ivan and Yu-jin were now walking through the campus. The university grounds were bustling with numerous students as the semester was in full swing.
With plenty of test subjects available, Ivan could learn more details about Yu-jin's status window capabilities.
'It organizes what he can perceive.'
This guy is like a database with access restrictions.
He shows information that he can access at this point in time. Things like the other person's level, name, and position.
To know more detailed content, he needs to "understand" the target. The more intimate he becomes with someone, the more detailed profile he can obtain.
In other words, this guy...
'This one was born for espionage...?'
His background is excellent. A cleric from a duke's family. He's someone who wouldn't raise issues in any country within the United Kingdom.
And if the condition needed to know someone's advanced information is merely "intimacy," it becomes even easier. It means he can obtain information without attempting intelligence operations, simply by entering social circles.
Plus, there's one more way to utilize this "information access restriction" status window.
This guy's status window doesn't recognize information he can't access.
In other words, flipping this around...
Information this guy can't recognize means it's a target that can't be identified at the student level. How many people would there be that a duke's son couldn't identify at Yansk University?
So, this guy...
'He's specialized in spy detection, limited to the school.'
After figuring this out, Ivan searched the entire university with Yu-jin in tow. As a result, he discovered about seven individuals who had names different from their enrollment documents.
"Their levels are either too high or not visible, their names are different, and their positions don't even show up."
"Good."
Ivan thought as he walked. Fewer than expected.
There are mainly three types of people who would plant personnel at Yansk University.
The Crown Prince's faction, spies from allied nations of the United Kingdom, or demons.
Since these three groups would have infiltrated with their own purposes, the seven revealed is certainly not a large number. Just the United Kingdom alone consists of 10 countries.
'They've planted agents among ordinary students too.'
Either trained as agents from childhood, or embedded without even being aware they're government agents.
Looking at it that way, excluding several countries...
'Those with excessively high levels are likely demon collaborators.'
The "strong" individuals among the Crown Prince's faction's core members are already under surveillance by the counterintelligence command.
Considering Princess Elizabeta's competence, the Crown Prince's faction could never secretly cultivate strong individuals.
"Um... well, brother. But that one's real name is actually Yuri? It's definitely Yuri Franck."
"That's not a problem. My name shows up as Ivan too, doesn't it?"
"Ah, that's true. Then how do we find out?"
"Persuasion."
Ivan nodded and walked toward the campus courtyard.
Three female students were eating sandwiches on a bench under the trees.
"Oh, mister!"
"Eek!!"
Two contrasting reactions from the students. Ivan's suspicions deepened.
There's a high possibility she's not a transmigrator. It would be an overreaction to suspect someone based on just a name.
However, that student's reaction is clearly suspicious.
Ivan was a thoroughly trained agent, so he was very skilled at disguising himself with an ordinary appearance.
In other words, it's suspicious to fear someone who looks harmless and ordinary to anyone—like a gardener.
"Isabelle, have you been well?"
"Haha, has it been that long since we talked? Our first class was just yesterday!"
"Hmm."
"Have you eaten, mister? Does anyone take care of you? Our cafeteria food is really terrible, would you like some of this?"
"Ah, ahh..."
As Isabelle took out a sandwich and handed it to Ivan, Asidis sighed.
Taking the sandwich from Isabelle's hand and taking a bite, Ivan stood in front of them.
"Ah, you know her, right? Yuri Franck. A student in the Knight Department. And this is Asidis. She's a music student."
"Hmm."
"Haha, right. Mister. Wait... um."
Isabelle narrowed her eyes at Yu-jin standing next to Ivan.
Who is this guy I've never seen before? Is he also a government agent?
"Shall we talk privately?"
"Eek?! Be-Bella! Wait!"
Brushing aside Yuri's strange gestures trying to stop her, Isabelle walked with Ivan.
Only after they had moved some distance from the group did she speak.
"I wanted to talk to you after class, but you suddenly disappeared. Are you in your right mind?"
"Hmm?"
"I mean, you're a government agent. Weren't we supposed to keep this a secret between us?"
Isabelle whispered with a serious expression, looking around.
"I don't know who else Tilles sent besides Lord August. But they must have sent at least one more. How can you expose yourself so openly in this situation?"
"Expose?"
"Your skills! You're a secret agent!"
Ivan tilted his head sideways as he looked down at Isabelle.
This small girl, who barely reached his chest even standing straight, spoke with a tense voice while quickly scanning her surroundings with her head slightly bowed.
"I don't know what the Krasilov government is hiding here, but since I owe you... well. How about I help you look into it?"
"Into what?"
"Oh come on, the spies sent from Tilles! I don't know if they're among the freshmen, but let's try to find them!"
Isabelle nodded firmly with eyes full of trust.
Ivan shook his head watching her.
Betraying her homeland so easily. Does she have no patriotism?
Then thinking about it for a moment, he realized that he had never acted out of patriotism either.
He had never been loyal to the Krasilov monarchy. He had merely personally respected the late king.
"That won't be necessary."
"Huh? This is a really valuable opportunity. You'll regret missing it. When I graduate from here, I'll rise to a very high position in Tilles, you know? Don't you manage human resources? Are you really a government agent?"
What exactly does this child think the word "agent" means?
He knew she had been raised pampered in the palace, but isn't this too far from the first impression?
Ivan nodded expressionlessly.
"Do as you wish, then."
"...That's a really bad attitude."
Isabelle shook her head and suddenly asked.
"By the way, what exactly are they hiding here that makes the elves still hang around like that?"
She gestured with her chin toward the sky.
More than a week after the new semester started—almost a month since the entrance ceremony.
The Kalion warship was still docked in the airspace above St. Yansk University.
At first, people were confused, but now most students dismissed it with reactions like "Elves being elves."
However, it was somewhat puzzling to Ivan. That ship is still a foreign warship. St. Yansk University is even in the middle of the capital.
The Crown Prince might have other intentions, but Elizabeta would never tolerate such actions. The palace and capital region are under Elizabeta's influence, aren't they?
"Who knows. Who can understand what goes on in an elf's mind?"
"So, Lord Veilchest. How is today's report?"
"We failed, Your Excellency."
"I see. Failed again today."
Onest nodded with a subtle smile.
"What did the Krasilov monarchy say?"
"They threatened to shoot us down if we don't withdraw within three days."
"Those guys said the exact same thing three days ago. Don't worry about it and continue with your duties."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
After dismissing the technical officer, Onest, now alone, took out a handkerchief and wiped away his cold sweat.
"Why on earth...?"
All warships undergo thorough technical inspections before departure. His ship, the "Glory of Boyle," was no exception.
Of course, this wasn't wartime, and they weren't heading to the front lines—it was just a simple show of force, not even enough to ignite diplomatic disputes, so the technical inspection was limited to peacetime maintenance standards.
But still, this is a Kalion airship.
It was the ruler of the skies, the terror of demons during the last war. It might have minor functional issues, but it had never had problems with navigation.
Just then, there was a knock from beyond the captain's quarters' bulkhead.
"Your Excellency, someone from the Krasilov palace is here."
"Tell them I'll visit separately in the evening. Didn't I say I have appointments in the afternoon?"
"Well, I explained that, but..."
Noisy commotion could be heard from beyond the bulkhead. The officer's urgent voice: "This is difficult!" "This is a diplomatic discourtesy!"
Elves are naturally sensitive to sound, especially in indoor spaces.
A metallic click, followed by footsteps. Sharp heel sounds echoing through the ship's interior.
Sensing who had arrived, Onest sighed deeply.
"Come in."
"I was about to."
Without any courtesy, the bulkhead swung open, and a woman appeared with beautiful silver hair flowing.
Elizabeta. The leader of this country's monkeys.
Onest cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure.
"How rude. Do you perhaps know that a warship is foreign territory?"
"Of course I know. That's why we haven't shot you down despite you floating in our airspace."
Elizabeta walked confidently and plopped down across from Onest. The splendid uniform of a Krasilov general gleamed under the indoor lighting.
As she flicked her gloved hand, a man standing behind her walked over and opened a black case.
He took out a cigarette, placed it in her hand, and stepped back a couple of paces with a respectful posture.
Before Onest could protest the rudeness of smoking in the captain's quarters, Elizabeta's sharp eyes flashed.
"So tell me. How should we... no. How should I treat you?"
"What...?"
"Our government's official position has already been conveyed. 'We'll give you three days.' But that's not my position. Elf. You must choose one of two options."
Elizabeta waved her fingertips. With a hiss, magic reacted and lit the end of the cigarette.
Inhale, exhale.
With a deep breath, white smoke seeped out. For an instant, purple eyes gleamed like a predator's through the thick rising smoke.
"One, explain what you're plotting right now and seek cooperation."
"And if I refuse?"
"I'll send the Woodsman."
As the cigarette smoke dispersed, what appeared was the beautiful face of a royal member with a gentle smile.
As if the previous intensity had been a lie. Elizabeta smiled and said:
"Fortunately, your country's warships are made of wood."
"Such insult...!!"
A woodsman to an elf...? Within the range of diplomatic rhetoric, there could be no worse insult.
As Onest became enraged, Elizabeta shrugged and stood up.
"An insult, you say. I seem to have my answer."
"You alone cannot represent the monarchy's will. Do you think you'll be safe after this?"
The conflict between the Crown Prince and the Princess was already internationally famous. It went beyond simple power struggles, to the point where civil war seemed imminent.
In such circumstances, is it right to completely antagonize one of the United Kingdom's powerful nations? If Kalion sides with the Crown Prince, the Princess's position would inevitably be greatly shaken.
Conveying this meaning with a growl, the Princess smiled faintly.
"Daring to threaten the Minister of Palace Affairs in Pritzenkaya. An amusing joke, Captain."
"Eek...!"
"And, Captain. Remember this."
Elizabeta turned back slightly as she opened the compartment door.
Purple eyes resembling those of a bird of prey flashed.
"I am the will of the royal family."
"Your Excellency, the Foreign Minister is urgently returning to the palace."
"That royal blood fellow is too hasty."
Elizabeta walked across the deck and smirked.
She was never wrong in her predictions. That brother of hers.
"Proceed as planned. Call Vanka."
"Will you meet him directly?"
"Lord Cherkatov. Haven't I already told you? We should reunite at a more appropriate time, in a more appropriate place."
How unromantic.
Elizabeta glanced at Dmitri once and moved on.