Too Much Money to Refuse

The moment I heard that my hard-earned retirement had been arbitrarily converted into an academy enrollment, my soul left my body. I collapsed on the spot and had to be dragged back to the Imperial Palace in a daze.

Still reeling from the sheer ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠psychological devastation, I dropped Princess Iris off at the Lily Palace—the ancestral residence reserved for imperial princesses—and trudged numbly toward my own quarters.

A ten-minute walk into the dense woods sprawling behind the palace brought me to a fairly sizable log cabin. Building that place with my own two hands had been a royal pain in the ass. Technically, my military merits entitled me to a lavish mansion in the heart of the imperial capital, but I had requested the cash equivalent instead. Every last copper was currently sitting in high-interest savings accounts or diversified across blue-chip stocks, all earmarked for my sweet, blissful retirement.

I pushed the cabin door open and walked into the bedroom. Mounted along the entire far wall was an expansive, gleaming arsenal: standard military issue like spears, swords, and bows, alongside exotic slaughtering implements like chakrams, neatly organized and weapon-oiled to perfection.

I walked straight to the weapon racks and began strapping gear onto my body.

Starting with my personal favorite, a combat spear, I slung a longsword over my shoulder, hooked a one-handed hatchet and a heavy mace to my belt, and strapped a composite bow to my back. Anyone watching would have assumed I was a one-man army marching out to lay siege to an enemy fortress.

Armed to the teeth, I pivoted on my heel and stomped back toward the palace's rear gate.

As dusk began to settle over the capital, the palace grounds grew quiet. No matter how rigorously trained the imperial guards were, anyone assigned to the secluded rear gate—a post devoid of foot traffic—was bound to yawn and fight off agonizing boredom.

"Haaaaah... I'm bored out of my damn skull..."

Just like this rookie right here.

Watching a fresh-faced boot have the sheer audacity to yawn and whine about boredom right in front of a senior officer, the veteran guard felt his inner drill sergeant awaken with violent indignation. He immediately laid into the kid.

"Hey, who the hell gave a scrub of your rank permission to be bored? What is wrong with recruits these days? Who is your direct squad leader? Huh? Haah... damn it, here I was trying to turn over a new leaf and be a gentle soul, and you just have to go and boil my blood."

Faced with a furious superior, a sensible junior would usually reflect on his reckless behavior and tremble in fear of the impending retribution...

"Come on, Senior, what century are you living in?" the junior retorted blithely. "Haven't you heard? The Grand Knight Commander is running a massive campaign for barracks modernization. Anyone caught hazing or pulling rank gets hit with immediate disciplinary action. It's a whole thing."

Rather than quivering, the rookie was actually offering unsolicited life advice out of concern that his senior might get court-martialed somewhere down the line.

The veteran guard's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief.

"Wow... The Knighthood has officially gone straight to the dogs. If we can't discipline you boots, how are we supposed to maintain unit cohesion?"

"Beats me."

After a brief moment of mutual grumbling about the state of the military, the junior spoke up again.

"Say, Senior, got any juicy gossip lately?"

"Where on earth would I hear anything exciting? I've been stuck on this brutal alternating shift rotation for days. I'm exhausted enough to drop dead."

"Haah... It's so dull. Think Sir Kyle will go on a rampage today or something?"

The senior guard paused and stared at the rookie as if looking at a certified lunatic. Sensing the judgment, the junior protested indignantly.

"What? Why are you looking at me like I've lost my mind? It's basically a quarterly festival around here anyway, isn't it?"

Upon hearing that protest, the senior's face contorted into an expression far more horrified than before. He was no longer looking at a fellow human being, but an irredeemable madman.

"You suicidal bastard, do you really want half the palace demolished just to cure your boredom?! Did you completely erase two years ago from your memory? Sir Kyle lost his temper, leveled half the palace grounds, and sent half the knight orders flying into orbit! We're lucky he was feeling merciful that day, otherwise I shudder to think how many body bags the crown ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would've had to order!"

A visible shiver ran down the veteran's spine as the lingering terror from two years ago washed over him.

Watching his senior tremble, the junior tilted his head skeptically.

"Wait... Wasn't that whole thing just an exaggerated rumor?"

It was only then that the senior remembered this idiot had enlisted long after that catastrophic incident had been swept under the rug. Massaging his throbbing temples, the veteran groaned.

"And that exact attitude is why everyone calls you a clueless boot. Exaggerated rumor, my ass! You should've seen Sir Kyle back then! I swear to the gods, he looked like some three-headed, six-armed demon crawled straight out of the deepest pits of hell! And get this—!"

As the veteran launched into an impassioned lecture on the sheer horror that was Kyle, the rookie's ears twitched.

Thud. Thud.

He turned his gaze toward the approaching rhythm of heavy footsteps.

"—The way he was brandishing multiple weapons all at once with deadly precision—!"

"Uh, Senior."

Thud. Thud.

"Man, just thinking back on it gives me goosebumps—"

"Senior!!"

Thud. Thud.

"What?! Can't you see I'm in the middle of explaining?!"

Despite the scolding, the junior kept his eyes locked straight ahead, his finger trembling as he pointed toward the approaching shadow.

"Um... Is what you're talking about... by any chance that?..."

Thud! Thud!

The footsteps grew louder, and a solitary figure emerged into view.

The senior slowly tracked the rookie's finger, turning his head—

"............"

Walking toward them was a young man practically bristling with an absurd assortment of weaponry, his suffocating aura casting the distinct visual illusion of a three-headed, six-armed war demon descending upon the mortal realm.

The senior guard's soul instantly detached from his body.

"We're so fucked...."

Today, at least several dozen guards were going to wake up in the intensive care ward, and he was undoubtedly getting slapped with disciplinary duty.

Contrary to the apocalyptic aura radiating from my frame, I walked toward the inner palace at a surprisingly leisurely pace.

The reason was simple.

If I wreck the palace again, the Emperor will drain my life savings to pay for repairs. Keep it targeted. Beat the commander within an inch of his life and leave the masonry alone.

If I went wild like I did two years ago, my precious retirement nest egg would be liquidated on the spot to fund imperial reconstruction. Self-restraint was purely a matter of financial survival.

Strangely enough, despite the murderously heavy atmosphere I dragged behind me and the small armory strapped to my back, not a single soul moved to block my path. Everyone seemed to assume I was just on my regular scheduled commute to throw a temper tantrum at my boss.

Passing maids, butlers, and even the heavily armored royal guards tasked with palace security merely spared me weary side-glances that practically screamed: Ah, he's at it again.

Even the head butler, an old acquaintance, casually strolled past me and paused only to offer a polite piece of advice.

"Sir Kyle, please try to refrain from damaging the load-bearing walls if possible."

With that, he went right back to inspecting the corridor drapes.

I know I had no right to talk, considering I was on my way to assault a superior officer, but still...

Is the Imperial Palace's security really okay being this lax?

I found myself genuinely concerned for the crown's national defense.

Lost in such idle thoughts, I arrived before the commander's office. He was, after all, my commanding officer, so out of basic military courtesy, I raised my hand to knock politely—

BAAAANG!!!!

"You motherfucking bastard of a commander!!! Give me back my retirement!!!!"

Politeness could go choke on a ditch. I kicked the solid oak double doors completely off their iron hinges with a full-throated lion's roar.

Loose paperwork fluttered like confetti through the air as thick clouds of pulverized wood and dust obscured the room.

As the haze gradually settled, a lone middle-aged man was revealed, seated stoically behind a mahogany desk with his fingers steepled beneath his nose. He struck an uncanny resemblance to that dignified-looking bastard from an anime I watched in my past life—the deadbeat father who ordered his son to climb inside a giant robot made out of his dead mother and sacrifice his life to save the earth.

That man was Gerard Bloodrain. He was the younger brother of the current head of the Bloodrain Marquisate—one of the few prestigious marquis houses in the empire—and the direct commander of my unit, Apocalypse.

In other words, he was my superior officer.

However, at this precise moment, he was nothing more than an obstacle standing between me and my peaceful retirement.

The instant that thought crystallized, I hurled the one-handed axe in my grip.

Whoosh!

"Ah, welco—"

THUNK!!

"...Don't you think hurling a handaxe the very second you see my face is a bit harsh, Kyle?"

The iron blade was buried four inches deep into the wall a millimeter away from his ear, yet Gerard didn't even flinch. Instead, he looked genuinely hurt that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his warm greeting had been rejected. Clicking my tongue, I cut straight to the chase.

"Spare me the pleasantries, old man. Explain to me right now why my retirement papers turned into an academy acceptance letter."

"I figured as much."

Seeing his calm, nonchalant nod made my blood pressure spike. I reached into my coat to draw a second throwing axe.

"Calm down, boy. Put the axe away."

"I'll decide that after hearing what comes out of your mouth."

"Let us clear up the misunderstanding first."

"What misunderstanding could there possibly be?"

What misunderstanding? Was this geezer messing with me? Had his brain cells finally degraded with age? When a machine malfunctioned, a good smack was usually the best remedy. My knuckles popped as I clenched my fists.

Catching sight of my tightening grip, Gerard hurriedly blurted out his defense.

"First of all, I had absolutely nothing to do with this decision! This entire directive was handed down directly from His Imperial Majesty the Emperor himself! An imperial decree! Even with your notorious temperament, it is impossible to defy!"

His excuse was utterly preposterous. It hadn't even come from the Grand Commander overseeing the combined imperial armed forces; the Emperor had personally dropped the hammer.

"Hey, Commander, does that make any lick of sense to you? Why on earth is the ruler of an entire continent sticking his nose into the retirement of a lowly grunt?!"

What did the almighty Emperor have to gain by micromanaging the discharge of a glorified butcher who did nothing but harvest enemy heads?

"Has your conscience completely evaporated?!" Gerard shouted, exasperated. "Do you honestly believe someone who could slaughter every single combatant residing within this palace combined qualifies as a 'lowly grunt'?!"

Seeing the sheer indignation on my face, Gerard looked so utterly dumbfounded that his expression shifted into an internal battle: Can I hit this bastard just once? His fists trembled with the desperate urge to throw a punch.

"Well, is it my fault they're all so weak?"

If you're salty about it, train harder and beat me. Besides, none of the continent's genuine, pinnacle monsters were even present when I threw that tantrum back then. So yeah, they were weak.

"It is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not that our knights are weak, it's that you—! Haah... Forget it. Continuing this debate will only give me high blood pressure."

Gerard's face turned beet-red from having the 'you're just bad at fighting' card thrown in his face, but he quickly realized the futility of arguing and steered the conversation back on track.

"Haaah... Enough of that. The reason your discharge was cancelled primarily stems from Her Highness, Princess Iris. She vehemently opposed your departure, rolling on the floor and throwing an unprecedented tantrum demanding to be sent to the academy alongside you."

The vivid mental image of Iris flailing on the royal carpet while the sovereign of the mighty Dragonia Empire sweated profusely in sheer helplessness immediately sprang to mind. It was a tragic scene, certainly, but it only strengthened my conviction that I needed to flee the borders of this empire by any means necessary.

Be that as it may...

Next time I see that little brat, I'm giving her a hundred knuckle-sandwiches straight to the forehead.

I silently swore vengeance against Iris.

"Haah... Fine. But that can't be all of it. If a spoiled brat's tantrum is really the sole reason, screw retirement—I'm going AWOL right this second."

"Of course that isn't all. What kind of circus do you take our empire for?"

Gerard puffed his chest out with imperial pride. I gave him my brutally honest assessment.

"A bunch of useless scumbags who tossed a scrawny nine-year-old kid with barely any peach fuzz onto an active warzone without a shred of logistical support, and then strutted around boasting about their glory the moment the war ended?"

"............"

Gerard was struck entirely speechless, looking genuinely wounded by the truth.

"What, act shocked all of a sudden? Drop the sensitive routine and spit out the rest of the reasons."

"...Ahem. Very well."

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Gerard continued.

"To proceed... the roster of students matriculating into the Imperial Academy this semester is far from ordinary."

"Who the hell is enrolling to make you sweat like this?"

"Take a look at this list for yourself."

Gerard slid a crisp piece of parchment across the desk.

I picked it up and scanned the contents.

Looking at the lineup of names scrawled across the paper, only a single thought crossed my mind.

"We're completely screwed, aren't we?"

I voiced my unvarnished conclusion.

"Indeed. We are thoroughly screwed..."

At my blunt agreement, Gerard's face visibly aged by ten years under the sheer weight of acute stress.

"Haah... God, I want to retire too."

It brought a warm flutter to my heart to see that my commander finally understood the beauty of retirement.

After short-circuiting from stress for about five minutes, Gerard rebooted his cognitive functions. I leaned forward over the desk.

"Alright, Gerard, old man. Why on earth are these VIPs suddenly flocking to our academy, and what the hell does their arrival have to do with me going there?"

"To be frank, the imperial court doesn't fully understand their motives either," Gerard sighed, rubbing his temples. "The Blade Kingdom and Haniporif Kingdom, who fought bitterly against us in the previous war, claim this is a diplomatic gesture of reconciliation. But there is almost certainly a hidden agenda beneath the surface. And the other foreign dignitaries surely have their own clandestine reasons for enrolling."

"So, in short, you want me to figure out what they're plotting?"

"Precisely. Furthermore, given their exalted bloodlines, should any 'unfortunate accident' befall them on imperial soil, the empire's diplomatic standing would be utterly catastrophic. You are being deployed to preemptively neutralize any such crisis."

"Let me get this straight. You want me to enroll as a student, play babysitter to a flock of royal brats, and spy on foreign intelligence?"

"Well... put crudely, yes. That is the gist of it."

Mulling over Gerard's explanation, only one realization echoed in my mind.

This sounds like an absolute nightmare.

No matter how I looked at it, it was pure agony. Sure, in my previous life on Earth, I had read plenty of academy web novels, so I possessed a baseline romantic curiosity about magical school life. But between twelve years of elementary, middle, and high school in South Korea, followed by four brutal years of university, I had already spent sixteen years enduring the hell of academic academia. Just thinking about midterms, finals, and group projects made bile rise in my throat.

On top of academic coursework, they wanted me to act as Princess Iris's bodyguard while simultaneously surveilling and protecting half a dozen foreign royals? Are these bureaucrats trying to work me to death?

"I refuse."

Who in their right mind volunteers for death by overwork?

Rule number one of survival: never get tangled in the personal affairs of national leaders, whether foreign or domestic. My plan remained absolute—retire immediately, build a quaint cabin in a scenic countryside with crisp mountain air, and spend my days reading fantasy novels.

"Besides, aren't there plenty of operatives in our unit who offer much better cost efficiency than me?"

Hearing that, Gerard grumbled defensively, looking equally reluctant.

"Haaaaah... To be perfectly honest, I didn't want to deploy you either. Who knows what kind of international incident you'll trigger the moment you step foot on campus?"

"Then why force me to go?!"

Gerard made a pained face, clearly reluctant to state the obvious, but finally muttered the truth.

"...Because the rest of us are too old to pass for students."

"Ah..."

Well, that made sense.

In our black-ops unit, Apocalypse, the youngest operative aside from myself was twenty-eight years old. Considering the Imperial Academy strictly capped admission at twenty-five, I was quite literally the only person in the entire organization eligible for enrollment.

Good grief, you bunch of geriatric fossils.

While the administrative logic was sound, the task itself remained a massive hassle. Honestly, who would willingly jump into a snake pit crawling with entitled high-born brats?

As my profound reluctance painted itself clearly across my face, Gerard's demeanor suddenly shifted. His expression turned deadly serious. He held up a single finger and spoke a single phrase.

"One billion gold."

I froze, doubting my own auditory senses.

"...Come again?"

Without a flicker of hesitation, Gerard repeated the exact same words.

"I said, one billion gold."

Had this old man finally lost his marbles? What kind of hallucination was this? It sounded as absurd as claiming the Heavenly Demon had reincarnated as a rabid dog to bite the throat out of the Martial Alliance Leader.

"If you accept this assignment, one billion gold will be wired directly into your private account every single year. Furthermore, upon your graduation, your permanent military discharge will be unconditionally guaranteed, alongside a luxury villa built on prime imperial estate land of your choosing. And naturally, your base operational salary and veteran stipends will continue to be paid in full."

Faced with a package of terms so absurdly lucrative that it defied the laws of economics, my mind went completely blank.

"............"

"So," Gerard asked, a smug grin creeping onto his lips. "What is your answer?"

"Where would you like me to begin, Commander?"

It was simply too much money for a mad dog to refuse.