Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 26
>Chapter Title: The Saintess and the Woodcutter (4)
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*
The suspiciously wealthy foreign benefactor who had come to the orphanage director’s office first raised a fuss upon hearing that Ivan had no bedroom, only getting to the main point after the commotion died down.
The Saintess calmly listened to Ivan’s story (mostly recounted by Enrique) and then took a sip of her tea.
At least one transmigrator within the university, possibly as many as three.
“How strange.”
“Hm?”
“Enrique. Have you ever heard the saying? That only a couple of ‘dragged-in souls’ appear each century.”
“Uh, yeah, right?”
“How many are there now?”
The Saintess set down her tea and gently folded her hands.
Her eyes had now deepened, like those of a high priestess.
“Maximilian, the Demon King, and Ivan. That makes three. There might be more elsewhere, but at most, it would be one or two that I don’t know of.”
“…Huh?”
“And that was twenty-some years ago.”
The time the Demon King appeared, the time Maximilian appeared, and the time Ivan appeared.
That was all over twenty years ago. Not even a single generation had passed, let alone a century.
“The stories of the Demon King and Maximilian are over. I don’t know what Brother Kirillts’s story might be, but its conclusion can’t be far off. But what if others were to appear here and now?”
“Huh? What’s the problem with that?”
“It’s not normal. I once served Maximilian, who was a ‘dragged-in soul.’ Therefore, I am familiar with all the old church records concerning them.”
A couple per century.
When they appear, they invariably make their mark somewhere.
As if each were zealously crafting their own narrative.
After finishing the story of their era and disappearing, time would pass, and others would be dragged in to turn a new page.
So, in this era, when the Demon King is dead and all nations are quiet…
What reason could there possibly be for a new transmigrator to appear?
Even if the few nations that still had their military strength intact after the war with the Demon King, or the regional conflicts entangled in colonial expansion, were signs of danger…
It was still too early. The world was too devastated to face another war. No nation currently had the spare capacity to dare wage an all-out war.
Even if the Demon King were to reappear, would it be a problem? Most of the Hero’s Party was still alive and well, and each country had already prepared to counter ‘powerful individuals.’
Moreover, the demons had been scattered as a race, either enslaved or driven out of the civilized world. Only remnants were left in distant lands. They no longer had the strength to continue a war.
“How many do you suspect?”
“Three.”
“Their nationalities?”
“Two are from Krasilov. The other is from Kalion.”
“One elf and two humans.”
The Saintess crossed her arms and fell into thought for a moment.
“You said all three are students?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s not yet verified?”
“Mm.”
“Then we must verify it.”
The Saintess nodded with more readiness than expected. Since the word ‘verification’ coming from the mouth of a person of faith had rarely led to anything good, Ivan wondered if she was planning some kind of inquisition.
“Try to single out the real ‘dragged-in soul’ from among the suspects. And let’s find out what kind of story they were dragged into. After that, won’t we be able to know what story remains in our era?”
After the stories of the Demon King and Maximilian had ended, what kind of tale could transmigrators achieve in this world? What story had drawn them here?
To piece together those fragments and prepare for the future. That was the Saintess’s plan.
Of course, this world wasn't some plot from a game or a novel. Whatever story they might have experienced in their ‘other world,’ a fictional creation could not influence the flow of this one.
But people were different. A person influenced by that ‘story’ was different. What kind of image the transmigrator held, what actions they planned to take—that much would certainly affect this world.
Just as the Demon King, the Hero, and the countless transmigrators before them had done. The transmigrator would inevitably create incidents, conflicts, and history.
The Saintess nodded and sank into the sofa. After taking another sip of tea, she suddenly posed a question.
“So, Brother Kirillts. What was your story?”
“I don’t know.”
“…Pardon? No, no matter how long ago it was… you know, a strong sense of purpose, a feeling of destiny, that kind of… story…?”
You must have had at least one…? Most transmigrators usually did.
Hesitating at the Saintess’s question, Ivan opened his mouth with a heavy heart.
“There were too many.”
“Pardon…?”
In his past life, Kim Seon-woo had left malicious comments on a total of eight games, eleven webtoons, and over thirty webnovels.
Across various genres, it didn't matter what it was as long as he felt like it.
Ivan carefully explained this, starting with the superstition in his world that ‘one could get transmigrated by criticizing an author.’
The naive Kim Seon-woo, who had wanted to be transmigrated, had followed that superstition and unleashed scathing critiques—that is, a [5,700-Character Punch of Gratitude]—on all sorts of works.
Upon hearing his calm recollection, Enrique averted his gaze, and the Saintess was momentarily at a loss for words.
“Let us repent, brother.”
The Saintess clasped Ivan’s hand tightly and infused it with holy power. It was warm. So warm it made a corner of his heart sting.
*
March, a season when flowers bloomed and the spring breeze tickled the heart.
Yevgeny, or Yujin, swept back his shimmering black hair as he read the Bible. His damn Bible Exegesis class was fast approaching.
He sat on a bench under a lush green tree in the main courtyard of the Theology Department, which was built as a replica of a cathedral. The sight of him reading was a picturesque scene in itself.
Yujin, who had been planting the seeds of corruption in the hearts of many aspiring nuns, suddenly paused when he saw a flashing notification in the corner of his vision.
“Huh?”
[Warning!]
>[Warning!]
>[Warning!]
“What, what, what is it! What now!! Stop messing with me!”
He instinctively flinched and looked around. No one was there.
Again. It was happening again. This damn status window was muttering things only it understood without providing any explanation!
Just as he was thinking this, the warning message popped. This time, to his surprise, it began to ‘explain the situation.’
“What the…?”
[Warning!]
>[Survival Instinct Lv. 3]
>[Get up from your seat right now and walk forward.]
>[Do not look back.]
>[Act naturally.]
>[Even if someone calls you….]
Whatever it was, he had to get out of there. Although the status window was so unhelpful it was practically useless, at least it didn't lie.
This time, the theme seemed to be a Neapolitan horror story. He clutched his forehead, stood up, and began to walk naturally.
The work he had been transmigrated into was supposed to be [The Northern Grand Duke’s Sword Genius Scion], but the title felt more like the Holy Roman Empire…
Because he wasn't from a Northern Grand Duke’s family, wasn't a sword genius, and couldn't even act like a scoundrel!
He bit his lip hard. This was closer to an SCP… or some kind of cosmic horror setting.
At least this damn status window… no, this *shit-us window*. From now on, your name is the shit-us window.
Yujin ground his teeth, struggling to keep his expression neutral. A normal, calm face, his trembling hands hidden naturally in his sleeves. He trudged forward.
“Yujin.”
“Huh?”
Naturally, naturally.
Muttering this to himself, Yujin instinctively turned his head at the sound of his name being called from behind.
He had to at least maintain his reputation at the academy. He put on a warm, devout smile.
“Just as I thought. Yevgeny is Yujin. China, Japan, Korea. Where are you from?”
“!!!!!”
A murderous Santa Claus was glaring at him from behind a tree.
Yujin glanced at the frantically flashing warning window and slowly, very carefully, turned his head with a creak.
“Mmm~ hmm. Ah, what lovely weather.”
As if he hadn't turned because he was called, but just to stretch… He kept glancing to see if there were any other warnings, if the damn status window was trying another narrative trick.
*Thud.*
A strong hand landed on Yujin’s shoulder.
Ivan looked into his eyes and thought. *His gaze is awkward. This isn't just surprise or fear.*
It was clearly the gaze of someone conscious of something else. Of course, there was nothing in the direction the kid was looking.
The most logical conclusion, then, was that there was ‘something only this kid could see.’
“What do you see?”
He didn't know if transmigrators received some kind of special perk. At least, he had never received one.
Did Maximilian have some special talent? He couldn't know.
But if that were the case.
If there was something special about a ‘transmigrator,’ he could make a few reasonable deductions based on Kim Seon-woo’s ‘common sense.’
A status window, a trait window, or something similar.
The kind of thing that often appeared in early game transmigration stories. A user-friendly, blue augmented reality display visible only to oneself.
The very thing he had longed for might be visible to this kid’s eyes.
Meanwhile, the moment Yujin heard Ivan’s words, he thought reflexively.
*The monster before me is definitely another ‘transmigrator.’ Probably Korean.*
*Damn it. A dual protagonist…? That’s a shortcut to failure. Isn’t that style way too old-school?*
Yujin did his best to act normal. If this was another transmigrator who had lived in this world longer than him, was it more likely they were friendly or hostile?
This man had a history of throwing a rock at him with murderous intent the moment he recognized him. That meant he was an aggro mob.
Yujin’s mind spun. He remembered his first quest.
*Assassinate Ivan Petrovich, conceal the information, or persuade him.*
>*Failure means death.*
“Wh-who are you…? Do… you know me…?”
“I plan to get to know you from now on.”
“If you do this, the department head won’t, won’t just stand by…”
“This has been authorized by Saintess Patricia.”
With a loud crack, what little faith he had shattered, and Yujin was led away by Ivan’s hand.
[Warning -Canceled-]
>[Survival Instinct Lv. 3]
>[Get up from your seat right now and walk forward. -Canceled-]
>[Do not look back. -Canceled-]
>[Act naturally. -Canceled-]
>[Even if someone calls you, do not answer. He is not an ally. -Canceled-]
[Leave with the gardener. Do not resist. He is your ally.]
In Neapolitan horror stories, doesn’t a message like this usually mean you’re about to die?
Yujin stared blankly at the status window, a thought crossing his mind.
It was March, and the warm spring breeze felt pleasant.
*
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 thirty years.
One who didn't know his own story, who had lost his purpose, and remained a supporting character in someone else’s tale before fading away.
She prayed as she watched Ivan depart.
May that gruff woodcutter now find a purpose in his life.
And may a handful of happiness remain in his hands at the end of it all.
“The student you said was needed for the ‘special class’… First-year from the Magic Department, Oswald. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that was the name. Is there a problem?”
“Well… it’s not exactly a problem. The boy himself is a very diligent and talented student, but…”
The head of the Magic Department wore a peculiar expression as he glanced at the Saintess.
He was an elf from the Kalion Archipelago. Until just before the semester began, he had been a renowned mage in Kalion.
Elves have a small population, far smaller than humans. Therefore, most scions of noble houses know each other well, very well indeed.
He was no exception. Since any student who would come all this way to study abroad had to be from a prominent family within the Kalion Archipelago, he easily recalled the student the Saintess mentioned.
Oswald Eastvelpen. The legitimate heir of a renowned Kalion magus family and son of a current Privy Councilor. A diligent, intelligent, considerate, and talented young nobleman.
He was a promising young man, despite a few minor issues.
And by minor issues, he meant…
“He’s a rather… tragic fellow.”
“Tragic?”
“He was betrothed in the womb to the daughter of the Privy Council Chairman, but the engagement was recently broken off. However… well.”
How to explain this.
The head of the Magic Department, Ernbert, wiped away his sweat and sighed.
Elves were, for the most part, a near-perfect race, but the gods, jealous of their flawlessness, had left them with a single defect.
Their flaw was ‘obsession.’ (Not arrogance; for elves, that was only natural.)
>Obsession with success, obsession with honor, obsession with knowledge. The types were many and varied, but in this case…
The Chairman’s daughter, Evelyn Rustfizz, was bizarrely obsessed with Oswald.
*
[The Genius Mage Obsessed Over by the Villainess] was the worst novel of my life.
Damn it. I’m serious. It was utter trash. I even dropped it after thirty chapters and didn't leave a single malicious or critical comment.
I dropped it cleanly. The author probably doesn't even know a reader like me exists. So why?
Oswald stared up at the sky, trying his best to ignore the sharp gaze he felt on the back of his head.
"Fuck my life."
Ep. 7. The Saintess and the Woodcutter