Searching Three Thousand Miles for the Academy
A world of swords and magic. Dragons soared through the clear blue skies, and giants dwelled in mountains so grand they pierced the clouds. Someone might call it a fantasy world. It was the kind of place that let overworked office drones, drained of imagination and freedom by endless overtime, dream again.
And I—possessed into that world, right into the game Triam Academy—was currently...
"Hey, James. You cheating again?"
"What're you talking about? I'm playing fair here."
"Then how'd that card pop up right from the top of the draw pile?"
"Lerven, I've told you a million times. It's just your luck sucking."
...playing a card game.
Why was I, a possessor stuck in the body of some guy named Lerven in this game world, wasting time on card games instead of hunting hidden pieces or fateful encounters? The reason was simple enough.
"Whatever. Just play or don't."
"Huh? What'd you say?"
"Nothing. Your turn—hurry up and draw."
I had zero info on Triam Academy. I'd only played it for the card game mini-game and ignored everything else. All I knew were the basics from the tutorial. Once I realized that after possessing this body, I tried gathering intel on the world anyway.
"Hey, James. Any word on the front lines with the Holy Kingdom?"
"How'm I supposed to know about stuff across the ocean from this backwater? Even news from the next village over takes days."
But the village I woke up in—Arnil Village—was so remote, I couldn't even figure out the timeline. Moving to another village felt too rash, so I hunkered down here.
The result? Over six months later, I still hadn't left. I helped with village chores, then killed time playing cards with James—the only guy my age and the son of Village Chief Bruce, the man I owed my keep to.
"This village has no future. ...Man, nothing to do."
"Only you and me are young here. Not just this place, though. My turn?"
Not exactly ideal.
From the tutorial and prologue in Triam Academy, this world followed a classic RPG plot: hero versus demon king. Sit on my hands, and the world ends. I didn't plan on dying that pathetically, but...
"No answers anywhere..."
"What, your field?"
"Nah, your face."
"Ha! Think you're the only one the elders tell to stay out of sight so they don't keel over?"
The problem? No excuse to leave. Heading to the capital's academy without knowing the timeline would just waste time. And the biggest issue: no money. Scraping by day-to-day in this rural spot left no savings. No funds for the trip or to survive in the capital.
"Hey, if I win this one, you remember that deal—your 100th loss means you buy lunch, right?"
"...You really gotta squeeze a guy who already crashes at your place?"
"Squeeze? Call it legitimate repayment."
James grinned, oblivious to the shadow looming behind him.
Thwack!
"Gah!"
"You punk—talking smack to a guest who eats and sleeps under our roof."
Bruce, the village chief, whacked him with a sturdy wooden staff. I waved at Bruce, who eyed our card game with clear disapproval.
"Nice hit, Chief. Still got that old adventurer swing."
"Lerven, quit goofing with my boy and handle that warehouse cleanup I mentioned."
He wasn't swayed by my silver tongue—he was determined to put his key laborers, me and James, to work.
"Did that the day before yesterday."
"...Right. Then the letters from yesterday—"
"Mailed 'em at dawn to the next village. Just got back and was resting."
But who am I? A fully discharged sergeant from the Republic of Korea Army, battle-hardened by warehouse duty and marches. Village chores? Six months, and I'd mastered them.
"Uh... w-well... good job. As expected."
"No biggie. You feed and house me—this is the least."
Bruce couldn't pile on more after I'd blitzed through days of tasks. He turned awkwardly to poor James.
"James, learn from Lerven—even half his hustle. Quit tempting hard workers into card games!"
"Dad... how's anyone that slick after two years of nothing but chores? He's the weird one!"
James protested his scolding, but it fell on deaf ears.
"Tch... never expected much anyway. I'll take these cards—you go help your mom at home."
"Yessir..."
Bruce confiscated the cards and shooed James home. His slumped shuffle was hilarious, but with Bruce right there, I held back the laugh.
"Guess I'll head out too."
No more card buddy, so I packed my cards to leave—but...
"Hold up. Got something to say."
Bruce's tone turned dead serious, stopping me cold. I racked my brain—what serious talk could he have? Nothing came to mind.
I pulled my chair back in and sat as he settled across from me. His face screamed words stuck in his throat.
I waited silently, letting him speak.
The quiet stretched eternally until he finally opened his mouth.
"Heard Triam Academy's holding entrance exams soon."
"...You still remember that question from before."
His words hit: the academy exams. I'd casually asked before to pin down the timeline. He'd said he didn't know then, but he'd remembered—and now delivered the intel.
"Seemed important to you."
Understatement. Academy stuff was life-or-death for me. He'd clocked that, held onto it for half a year, and now shared. Gratitude swelled—beyond words.
"Thank you. Never thought you'd go this far..."
"After all you've done for the village? This is nothing. Save the thanks for this too."
Jingle. As I bowed deeply, he handed over a pouch heavy with coins.
"...This is—"
"Take it. Need travel money to the capital, right?"
Gold and silver coins—the local currency. He'd anticipated I'd bolt for the academy and prepped it. Was he that perceptive, or was I that obvious?
"...I can't accept—"
Not a fortune, but burdensome for a remote village. Too much for just me. I tried returning it, but...
"Pay it back double—later."
His firm refusal shut me down. He trusted I'd pass the academy and return to repay—with interest. That faith weighed heavy.
I pocketed the pouch and bowed again.
"Thanks for everything up to now."
"Village'll get quiet. I'll miss it. James will too."
"I'll miss Arnil Village too."
"Music to a chief's ears. Safe travels, Lerven."
No tearful send-off or crowd farewell. I'd arrived out of nowhere; now I left the same way.
With that goodbye, I departed my heartfelt home—A rn il Village.
Toward the only path to this game's ending.
*
Clatter.
Of the many ways to Triam Academy, I picked the classic fantasy ride: a carriage.
Clatter.
"Urk."
I'd packed quick in the village and hit the next town over, spotting a merchant caravan heading to the capital. A bit of coin and labor got me aboard their wagon hold.
Bumping into cargo piles every jolt wasn't fun, but cheapest way there. Finally fed up, I crawled forward to the front.
"Friden, how far to the capital? Thought you said the academy city was just ahead..."
I peeked through the canvas dividing hold from driver's seat. There was Friden's profile—the driver who'd clicked with me best during the trip.
He glanced sideways, flashing a playful grin.
"What's the rush? Academy won't run off if you're late."
"Not the academy—my shot at getting in."
"Hm. Maybe suggest to the caravan boss we slow down. His son's taking the Triam exams too—say it'll cut competition, he'll love it."
Friden's chills-inducing joke boomed into laughter.
"...I'd curse you forever."
"Kidding. Look—city walls ahead."
If that was funny, the Joker could've been a top comedian.
I shot him a queasy glare; he waved one reins-hand, pointing to the caravan's lead wagons.
Following his finger...
"Whoa..."
Towering higher than anything around: massive, sturdy walls. Beyond them, roofs of vibrant buildings packed tight. Dominating it all—a gigantic academy edifice, and not far, the opulent imperial palace.
No game graphic could capture this vivid reality flooding my view. No way.