Ep2 - 30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

Ivan, who had been simply waiting for the ending, eager to leave behind this tedious alternate world and indulge in a refreshing canned beer and dried squid, finally came to a realization. At this moment, he realized that all his experiences had merely been a 'background setting.' Moreover, the genre of this game was not a strategic simulation requiring him to fend off fierce battles against the Demon King's army. Nor was it a traditional RPG where heroes band together to overthrow the tyrannical Demon King. It was, shockingly, an 'Academy story.' This marked Ivan's 30th year of being stuck in this world. --- Ep 2. A Retired Soldier Wants to Rest. --- St. Vasilisa Orphanage is one of the wealthiest orphanages in the kingdom. For an orphanage to be wealthy, it generally needed to meet a few conditions. It had to either be ideally located within the administrative influence of the capital. Or, bearing the political symbolism of being the 'first orphanage for war orphans' when the war-torn kingdom began rebuilding. Or, if the head of the orphanage had established connections among influential individuals and high-ranking nobles, along with various other reasons, such paradoxically wealthy orphanages could be created. Incidentally, St. Vasilisa Orphanage met all those conditions. --- "Hmm." Ivan rubbed his arm as goosebumps rose and furrowed his brows. If there was anything he had learned from his lengthy military career, it was that premonitions of something bad should never be ignored. "Kids, sprinkle salt." "Yessir!" Watching the children giggle and run off, he sighed heavily. Four years had passed since the Demon King's death, and still, the game wasn't over. How can an epilogue be this prolonged? Is there some condition still unmet? Is the ending condition 'die of old age as a hero'? Surely not, but I want to go back sooner. Around this time, Ivan was desperately trying to recall his fading memories, diligently writing a list of things to eat when he returned to Earth. With the mindset of a sergeant awaiting discharge day, fighting desperately. Canned beer, dried squid, honey butter chips, nachos with cheese sauce, tuna mayo, kimchi stew. Oh damn, kimchi stew should have three underlines. It's been 30 years since I last had kimchi. Kimchi jjim and fried kimchi can't be left out either. And any kind of alcohol except vodka and wine. Ideally, he wanted to drink Northeast Asian alcohol. Living among those who snack on pickled cucumbers or mushrooms, even puffed rice becomes a craving. --- "Whoo…." Ivan was trudging along wearily when he suddenly halted. He perceived the presence of someone, a well-trained soldier, in his supposedly empty office. His previously drooping eyes sharpened. Taking careful steps forward, this time without suppressing his movement, trying to keep it as natural as possible. Thud, thud. As if nothing was amiss, he emphasized his defenselessness, walking straight to the wooden door with the director's office nameplate on it. --- 'One person.' His senses had already crossed into the realm of the beast. After spending years in the annihilation unit, anyone could perform such acrobatics. The presence beyond the wooden door stilled momentarily. Gauging Ivan's position, they slowly slipped a hand to their side, slightly bending their waist. Even if the door opened and the opponent shot a crossbow, Ivan was prepared to dodge. A habit long acquired. --- "It's been a while, Senior!" As soon as he turned the doorknob, the unfamiliar guest greeted him brightly, indicating no intention to attack. Recognizing the voice, Ivan relaxed his tense shoulders. Upon fully opening the door, a smartly dressed soldier in uniform waved at him. --- "How have you been? I should have visited more frequently!" "You should have come through the main entrance." "Haha, when have we ever done things that way?" The soldier chuckled briefly before stepping back. His gaze flicked quickly to Ivan's waist and sleeve. --- "What's the matter?" "How urgent you are! First, we should have a chat over tea and catch up." While saying this, he retrieved a small piece of stationery from his inside pocket. Carefully, with hands gloved in pristine white, he placed the stationery on the table. High-quality paper and a fine wax seal. Stamped with the chrysanthemum emblem. Seeing it, Ivan instinctively backed away from the table. --- "Isn't that lèse-majesté?" "Why would Colonel Kirilovna want with me…?" "She's the Chamberlain now. When you retired, she was already a Brigadier General, remember?" "So why are you looking for me? If I remember correctly, when I retired..." "Yes, you were told to live quietly and not draw attention. It's impressive you actually believed that and left. The Princess didn't eat for three days because of it." He chuckled, pushing the letter that had drifted to the edge of the table back toward Ivan. "Give it a read. A personal letter from the Princess herself would fetch a high price at memorabilia auctions." "...." With the care you'd use to dismantle a near-exploding magical artifact, Ivan cautiously reached out to the letter, meticulously peeling off the wax seal to avoid damaging it. With a crisp crack, the envelope opened smoothly. As his hand paused at the sight of the letter-paper woven with gold thread, he halted. "What's wrong? The Princess could just be asking if you’re doing well, couldn't she?" "Not likely." Elizaveta Kirilovna Krasilov. Back during their heyday at the front lines, her nickname was the 'Iron-Blooded' Lisa. This woman wouldn't send an envoy just to inquire about someone’s well-being. If anything, she'd be the type to poison the letter-paper instead. Surely, there's no poison here... "Just read it." Ivan finally mustered the courage to open the letter after hesitating another moment. The neat, beautiful handwriting looked like it was typed by a machine. [Banka, how have you been?] Already, he didn't want to continue reading. Ivan swallowed dryly. [I occasionally heard news about you. It seems you've been doing well. For the first few months, I was relieved to hear that, but since then, not so much. Unfortunately, I haven't been doing well.] Whoever caused this woman to 'not do well' is probably paying the price for it. [Do you remember when we were painstakingly tending to the garden? I hoped we could have a tea party together, but you really left without looking back.] The time when they burned demon settlements and established military governments to exploit the now 'peaceful' demons? Of course, he remembered. [After that, I thought for a while. Well, alright. Even without you, Banka, the garden we've so diligently tended wouldn't collapse. Winter will pass soon, and when the snow melts, the season of blooming will come. Then maybe, you might visit to see the garden you've nurtured.] Ivan muttered absent-mindedly. Me? To the court? Why would I...? [But now winter is coming again, Banka. The fat and lazy attendants no longer care for the garden. Wild growths and animals thrive, and there are no longer wildflowers between them. A colder and quieter winter looms than the last. I saw mistletoe once cover a dying shrub.] Now he understood the letter’s purpose. Ivan reflexively let out a deep sigh before reading the last paragraph. [Banka, the woodsman I trust most. If you have a desire, it will be rewarded threefold. If the price is insufficient, I'll settle it with our friendship. If that won't suffice, I'll pay with our memories. The kingdom still needs your dedication. As it always has, and will continue to do. With fondness, Kirilovna.] After reading the not-so-lengthy letter several times over, he pressed his stiff eyes firmly and turned his head. -Tap, tap, tap. Drumming his finger on the table in contemplation for a moment. "What’s your answer?" "The situation first." "It's quite rough. The military government is begging daily to be withdrawn, and Crown Prince Alexander is itching to split the country into five and sell it off. Our 'Great King' still sits in silence." The man continued with a smirk. "And tada! Remember Saint Jansc University? That international university established during the war." "Why does that matter?" "I got an early look at this year's freshmen and faculty list, care to see?" The man handed Ivan a notebook, speaking as he did. "The Saint has taken a teaching position. As a full-time theology professor. Now skip ahead... the students, ah. Familiar names pop up, don't they?" -The daughter of Hero Maximilian. Isabel. -The son of Knight Jil Ber. Oscar. -The daughter of Wizard Beolgreen. Elphera. -The daughter of Berserker Einar. Esidis. -The apprentice of Thief Enrique. Lucia. And this year, newly appointed professor, Saint Patricia. A 'Hero Party' member drawn like a picture. "Wouldn't you know it, our great former king abolished the age restriction for admission to Yansk University? Now, anyone can apply as long as they pass the entrance exam, regardless of whether they're young or old!" Saint Jansc University is one of the most prestigious schools in the entire United Kingdom, and this wretched isekai-style 'prestigious university' does not discriminate by age. Whether they're very young or very old. As long as an individual can pass the staggeringly difficult entrance exam, interview, and meet conditions such as having recommendation guarantees, the doors are open to anyone. Herein lies the problem. After the Demon King was slain, the hero party each returned to their homelands. Some became nobles, others went into seclusion. The single commonality was this: Each member of the party is a legendary hero in their home country. This means their every action could potentially spark international conflicts. Especially if the children they sent as exchange students are involved. "Our Prince wants to sell off the country, but, oh dear, something like this is happening right in the middle of the capital? What do you think will happen then?" If any one of these individuals were to die or be injured, this country would be done for. "What do you need me to do?" "We've created a position for you among the staff. It's not a role like professor or assistant. It's as a gardener. Well, universities have trees lined up, don't they?" "..." The man continued, pointing at the list in his notebook. "Ensure these kids remain unharmed and can return to their countries. Just watch over them for three years. If any drop out, it might be shorter." By now, Ivan had completed his calculations. Colonel Kirilovna—or rather, our Princess—needs a non-active service agent urgently. Using active service personnel leaves traces, posing the risk of exposure to the Prince's faction. And selecting any retired agent arbitrarily risks them being in league with the Prince's side. But, voila, there was one precisely suitable individual residing near the capital. An individual whose loyalty was unquestionable, capability proven, and who, after retirement, had kept quietly out of politics, secluded enough to be contacted precisely when needed. That miraculous person was Ivan. Ivan, who had prepared to sit quietly waiting for the ending, longing to return to Earth where he could savor the delights of modern civilization, had a startling realization at that moment. Instead of the Demon King dying and the hero party living 'happily ever after' as an ending, The backdrop of chaotic international tensions and domestic unrest saw an 'international university' suddenly emerge, with the world's dignitaries racing to enroll their children... After a waiting period of 30 long years, a genre anyone from South Korea would recognize came to mind... "Shit." "Pardon?" Kim Sun Woo, long dormant, suddenly awakened. "Shit. This was an Academy story?" "Senior...?" The man looked at Ivan with a nervous sweat building. Even during his active duty years, such an expression was rare. Ivan was seething with intensifying rage. And, naturally, From the perspective of someone who knew him from those active duty days, the palpable killing intent had them frozen in place. As he sweated and wondered what on earth those words meant, Ivan closed his eyes tightly, deliberately swallowing and suppressing Kim Sun Woo's boiling anger as he spoke. "Ivan Petrovich... I accept the command of the crown." 'Let's just go home after this.' Three years. After waiting for 30 years, what's another 3? If he waits just 3 more years, he might finally see the ending. This is how a gardener came to be part of the Academy. --- Author's Note (Afterword) In Russia, pickled mushrooms and cucumber pickles are eaten as a snack with vodka... Truly a dreadful culture...!