The Scamp's "Granted" Retirement
In my past life, there was a well-known saying:
'If money can't buy happiness, ask yourself if you just don't have enough money.'
Some would argue against that, insisting that true happiness can never be bought with coin. To be fair, I partially agree. Having money alone doesn't guarantee unconditional bliss.
However.
Having a massive pile of money drastically increases your odds of being happy. By a truly ridiculous margin.
Driven by that very conviction, I worked myself to the bone in my previous life—only to collapse from sheer exhaustion. In the end, I died without ever getting the chance to spend the fortune I had hoarded.
Perhaps God felt a twinge of pity for my pathetic demise, because when I finally came to my senses, I had reincarnated into a fantasy world.
Back when I was penny-pinching every scrap of income, the only luxury I ever allowed myself was binge-reading web novels. I used to catch myself daydreaming all the time: Ah, if only I could be reborn into a fantasy world as the coddled young master of some filthy rich noble house... I'd lounge around doing absolutely nothing, living off the family fortune forever...
And now, that dream was finally within my grasp! The paradise I had fantasized about for so long!
...Or so I naively believed once upon a time.
Noble young master, my ass. I opened my eyes as a dirt-poor orphan.
My so-called parents had abandoned me simply because they lacked the coin to feed another mouth. If I hadn't retained the memories and adult mental faculties of my past life, I would have perished in the gutter before I even learned to walk.
Somehow, I scraped by in the slums. But then a war broke out, and the authorities ordered me to march off to the front lines. At the ripe old age of nine!
The reason? Money, of course.
Wealthy commoners and noble scions bought their exemptions with fat purses of gold, while the penniless were herded straight into the meat grinder. Lacking parents and deemed utterly useless to the state, a nine-year-old like me was tossed onto the battlefield as nothing more than a disposable meat shield.
I spent the next ten years rolling through the bloody mud of the front lines.
By some miraculous stroke of luck—or perhaps a terrifying natural aptitude for slaughter—I survived with all four limbs intact. Along the way, I wiped out an entire enemy knight order single-handedly, rescued a kidnapped imperial princess, and ripped off the head of a hostile king. Having stacked up a towering mountain of military achievements, I was eventually scouted into the Emperor's direct-command black-ops unit: Apocalypse.
When the war finally ended, they tried showering me with medals and noble titles. I told them to keep their shiny trinkets and pay me in cold, hard cash instead. Thanks to that pragmatic choice, I now possessed enough wealth to live lavishly for the rest of my days.
The money was secured, and the war was over. Thoroughly sick of military life, I marched straight into my commander's office with a resignation letter in hand.
"Commander."
"Hm? What is it, Kyle?"
"Nothing major, sir. I'm retiring."
I slapped the resignation letter onto his desk with supreme confidence.
"Hmm... Your retirement is denied."
Just like that, my retirement was graciously dismissed.
"Wait, what?! Why?! The war is over! I've done everything you asked of me!"
"Did you bother to read your contract properly?"
"Contract?"
"Indeed."
"Nope."
A real man doesn't read the fine print.
"I figured as much."
The commander sighed knowingly and pulled out the parchment, tapping a specific clause with his finger.
"Can you see this right here, Kyle?"
"What is it?"
I squinted at the text.
"According to this clause, your mandatory service period is eight years. If I recall correctly, you transferred here roughly four years ago, didn't you? Congratulations. You still have four whole years left."
"......"
A heavy silence fell over the room. A sudden, violent tightness gripped the back of my neck.
"Guh... My blood pressure..."
Clutching the nape of my neck, I collapsed flat onto the floor.
And in that agonizing moment, I realized an immutable truth: manly man or not, you always, always read the damn contract.
Four years had passed since my resignation was flatly rejected. Four years since the war officially ended.
During that time, I was run ragged hunting down enemy remnants, suppressing terrorist plots, and handling all sorts of filthy covert operations. Yet out of all those grueling duties, by far the most exhausting was...
"Kyle!! Hurry up, would you?!"
"Your Highness, please slow down... If you trip and scrape yourself, my head will be physically separated from my shoulders..."
Serving as the imperial princess's personal bodyguard.
Third Princess Iris Ramila Dragonia of the Dragonia Empire.
A direct descendant of the legendary hero who felled the Demon King and the noble bloodline of the Silver Dragon. As the only daughter and youngest child among three older brothers, she held the entire imperial court wrapped around her little finger, thoroughly cherished by the Emperor and her brothers alike. The absolute jewel of the empire.
She was also the very princess I had rescued when she was abducted during the war—and the primary reason a commoner like me had been scouted into the Emperor's private special forces.
And if this precious imperial treasure were to trip and hurt herself while strolling down the street...
"What kind of weird delusions are you having in front of a lady?"
"It's not a delusion, Your Highness. It's a high-probability tactical forecast of my imminent demise! So please, stop running!"
They would literally take my head off. Those sister-complex maniacs—especially the imperial princes—would execute me without a second thought.
Now, you might wonder why such an esteemed imperial daughter was wandering the bustling capital streets with only a single guard in tow.
First of all, she threw a massive tantrum.
Iris was turning twenty this year, officially reaching adulthood. In the Dragonia Empire, imperial royalty were obligated to enroll in the Imperial Academy upon coming of age. Naturally, she needed to purchase supplies before entering. Normally, an army of attendants would handle such mundane errands, but this was our tomboy princess we were talking about.
Insisting that she wanted to play outside under the pretext of shopping, she threw such a fit that I bore witness to a grown woman rolling across the floor like a spoiled five-year-old right in front of the Emperor and Empress.
I honestly wonder if our problem child of a princess will ever manage to get married...
Well, putting that aside.
The second reason was simple: I was the strongest individual in the entire empire.
To be blunt, even if the entire roster of Apocalypse—the empire's deadliest, most vicious direct-command special forces unit—ganged up on me at once, they couldn't beat me.
How could I be so sure?
Doesn't the old adage say that even a master falls before an overwhelming mob?
Trust me, I didn't want to find out either.
But after my bastard of a superior worked me for two straight years without a single day off hunting enemy remnants, any sane man would lose his mind. The second I returned to headquarters, I snapped, challenged the whole unit in a mutual-destruction frenzy, and wiped the floor with every last one of them.
That incident threw the imperial palace into an uproar, and I nearly faced the executioner's block for insubordination. Fortunately, thanks to my towering military merits and my impassioned, tearful rant about workplace abuse, the magistrate presiding over the tribunal winced and went, "Ah... okay, yeah, that is pretty rough..." They took extenuating circumstances into account and let me off with a fifty-percent pay cut.
'Come to think of it, that still pisses me off. Should I go back and smash his face in again?'
Whatever. The point was, as long as I was standing guard, the chances of the princess getting kidnapped or injured were virtually ze—
"Whoa!"
Let me correct myself.
If I let my guard down for even a microsecond, disaster could strike—mostly due to her own sheer clumsiness.
I darted forward, catching her by the waist just before her face met the cobblestones.
"Are you all right, Your Highness?"
Her cheeks flushed bright crimson in embarrassment.
"Y-yeah... I'm fine..."
She hastily averted her golden eyes.
At least she had enough dignity as a twenty-year-old adult to feel embarrassed about tripping over thin air. That was a relief.
"I am glad to hear it. Now, please, stop skipping around like an overcaffeinated squirrel. I am genuinely worried you will hurt yourself."
"Wait, what? Kyle, were you... worried about me?"
She suddenly flashed a bashful, delighted grin, tilting her head up at me.
"No. As I mentioned earlier, if Your Highness gets hurt, my head will fly off. I was worrying about my own neck."
I gave her the unvarnished truth.
"Ugh! Kyle, you jerk!!"
Her face instantly twisted in outrage.
Thwack!
She punched my arm with all her might.
"Don't follow me! I'm going alone!"
Huffing and puffing, she stomped ahead.
Hmm... Is this puberty? A delayed rebellious phase?
Musing silently, I leisurely trailed after her.
To soothe our pouting princess's foul mood, I ushered her into the most renowned dessert parlor in the capital and bought her cake...
"Your Highness, just how many slices are you planning to devour?"
"Huh? I've only had fifty so far. Isn't this just a light snack?"
"What kind of madness is that?! You're going to blow up like a balloon at this rate!"
"It's totally fine! My body literally doesn't store fat!!"
Watching her shovel pastries into her mouth, you'd think she would gain enough weight to disrupt basic daily functioning. Yet in reality, Iris boasted an immaculate, sculpted figure—blessed with curves in all the right places and a slender waist to match.
How was that biologically possible? Naturally, it was thanks to her royal bloodline.
In a world where dragons had long vanished into myth, the Dragonia imperial family remained living proof of their ancient existence. Blessed with dragon blood, their bodies perpetually maintained peak physical condition regardless of how much they gorged themselves or whether they lifted a finger to exercise.
Furthermore, even though centuries had diluted the bloodline, their average lifespan still reached around two hundred years, preserving their youth for nearly their entire lives. On top of the dragon's legacy, they carried the blood of the founding hero who had vanquished the Demon King, granting them absurd innate physical prowess and monstrous magical talent.
Much like a certain comic about a yellow-haired ninja from Japan, it was an absolute triumph of genetic privilege.
At any rate, with sugar coursing through her veins, her sulking had subsided. Now, I needed to drag this gluttonous princess out of here before she emptied my life savings.
"Your Highness, we should really go buy your academy supplies now. At this pace, we won't finish before we're forced to return to the Imperial Palace."
"Hm? Is it really that late?"
"It is already three in the afternoon. We must be back at the palace by six. Even if we leave right this second, time will be tight."
"Ah! Already?! We have to go buy my stuff right now! What are you doing, Kyle? Stop dawdling and get up!"
...She was completely blaming me for the delay that she herself had caused.
How could someone be so shamelessly brazen?
Of course, if I voiced that thought aloud, her barely appeased temper would freeze over into a blizzard again. I wisely kept my mouth shut and moved toward the counter.
"Oh, and Kyle! You promised to treat me, so pay the bill and hurry outside!!"
"......Understood."
Since I had offered to pay, I couldn't even complain... But man, why did our dear princess make my knuckles itch so badly?
Not that I could actually hit royalty. Swallowing my irritation, I approached the clerk to settle the tab.
"How much?"
"That will be seventy-five gold in total! ^^"
One gold coin was roughly equivalent to a million Korean won.
...
Holy shit. Seventy-five million won?! For cake?!!
"......"
Ah... should I just close my eyes and sock her one good time?
"......Here you go."
Weeping tears of pure blood on the inside, I handed over the coins and walked out...
Ah... my precious, hard-earned money...
After sweeping through the market and procuring all the necessary academy supplies, we boarded the imperial carriage back to the Imperial Palace.
As the carriage rattled along, I casually dropped the news.
"Oh, by the way, Your Highness. Starting tomorrow, I won't be at the Imperial Palace anymore. I'm retiring."
In my mind, I hurled my resignation letter square into her face and screamed, 'Kyle is a free elf!!'
"Huh? What did you just say?"
Princess Iris blinked, her golden eyes widening as if she had literally been struck by that imaginary resignation letter.
"My contract officially expires today. As of tomorrow, I am leaving the palace for good."
"Wait, hold on a second, Kyle! What in the world are you talking about?!"
Blindsided by my sudden retirement announcement, Iris sprang up from her seat and lunged toward me, raising her voice in disbelief.
Seeing her react so frantically, it seemed our troublesome princess had grown quite fond of me over the years.
Watching her squirm like that made me feel a bit guilty for being so cold to her all this time. Perhaps I should have treated her more gently. Well, the least I could do was offer a warm, comforting farewell so we could part on good terms.
Summoning every ounce of MBTI 'Feeling' empathy my cynical soul possessed, I offered my kindest parting words.
"I apologize for not informing you sooner, Your Highness. But don't be too heartbroken; I will write to you from time to time. And I can always drop by for a visit, so there is no need to look so devastated."
I delivered the warmest consolation my F-type persona could muster.
Yet, Iris merely stared back at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated dumbfoundedness.
Tsk... What now? I was pretty sure that was textbook emotional validation...
While I racked my brain trying to figure out what had gone wrong, Iris posed a question that completely threw me off.
"Kyle... what nonsense are you spewing? You're coming to the Academy with me."
...Not retirement, but Academy enrollment?
Thinking my ears had surely deceived me, I stared at her in utter disbelief.
"You're enrolling in the Academy right alongside me. As my personal bodyguard."
She delivered the confirmation with absolute certainty, driving a fatal spike through my retirement dreams.
"......"
My vision blurred.
Thud!
My knees buckled, and I collapsed sideways onto the carriage floor.
"Huh? Kyle?! Pull yourself together! Kyle!!"
Iris's panicked, frantic face was the very last thing I saw before consciousness faded completely into black.