Eighty Years Too Early
Can't be helped. "That was close."
Arwen slowly rose from her seat and lightly rang the silver bell on her desk.
Ever since she'd taken over as Grand Duke, this silver bell had been sitting in the office at some point.
Ding-a-ling.
The clear chime echoed through the office, and from the shadows, the Grand Ducal intelligence agent appeared silently.
Even Arwen herself knew little about him.
Only that he accomplished any ordered task by any means necessary.
"……."
Arwen gazed at the agent, who bowed his head as if listening, and opened her mouth.
"Keep the 3rd Legion commander under close surveillance. Don't miss a single letter he exchanges with the count's mansion or any abnormal movement of supplies from the military warehouse."
A glint flashed in Arwen's eyes—not her usual green, but blue.
The agent vanished as silently as he'd appeared.
Alone once more in the office, Arwen drummed her fingers on the oak desk, lost in thought.
Tap, tap.
Only that steady rhythm broke the heavy silence of the room.
For about an hour, I nodded along to Alric's stories, forcing myself to chime in.
This uncle-looking guy sure didn't look the type, but man, he could talk forever.
"When I was on the eastern front…."
Again with the damn eastern front.
The one upside? I learned a bit about this world's history I hadn't known before.
Still, any more and my ears would've grown calluses, so I cut him off.
"Didn't you say you had business at the Magic Tower?"
"Ah. Has it gotten this late already?"
Alric glanced at the sun past its zenith and trailed off regretfully as he stood.
"Guess I should head out. Ruen, if you ever need company, drop by the guards anytime."
"Yeah, yeah. When I have time. Go on already."
Heading back to the tower, I hurried my steps to dodge Alric's lingering glances over his shoulder.
Hiding in the gap between buildings, I watched him enter the Magic Tower's entrance before finally exhaling the breath I'd held.
"Phew…."
That was a close one.
I knew I hadn't left a trace, but facing an investigator still had my nerves on edge. No helping it.
"Haa…."
Once the tension faded, injustice bubbled up inside me.
"Tch…."
I'd stopped a magic beast attack that nearly caused massive casualties and even warned the count behind it.
Sure, a bit of self-interest was mixed in.
Anyway.
"This pisses me off."
Why was I putting up with this humiliation?
Pondering it, I reached one conclusion.
Stepping into the wrong damn path.
"Tsk…."
I'd tried to hold back on using magic as much as possible, but things had come to this. No choice.
It was the third "unavoidable" time since arriving in the capital two days ago, but hey, unavoidable.
Peeking around the building corner to check for presences—no one nearby but me.
I steadied my breath short and sharp, then cast the spell.
—Whumm.
Levitation magic. Plus, I scattered a lattice of mana around me.
Light lost its straight path around my rising body, bending into smooth curves.
The background shimmered like heat haze, then mirrored the scenery behind me, cloaking my form.
Gliding invisibly through the air, I sought my original goal: the Academy.
Scanning with my eyes, a massive campus soon filled my view.
"Kinda far."
What a bizarre situation.
I'd clearly followed the map, yet the presumed Academy campus was way off—dozens of kilometers distant, at least.
"…Yriel must've drawn it wrong."
No other explanation.
If she'd just sketched it like the magic beast drawing I sent Arwen, I'd have found it easy.
Tsk, smacking my lips, I raced across the sky toward the Academy.
As the distance closed, its massive shape sharpened.
The novel described it as rundown, but every brick gleamed without a speck of moss—gave me chills of déjà vu.
Moments later, right before my nose: the Academy.
Navigation solved. Next problem: how to find the heroine here.
I remembered her name and description.
Valentina. A pretty, plain country girl with brown hair and pink eyes.
I scanned the outdoor campus first.
"Hmm…."
Lots of people, but no matches.
Saw plenty of brown-haired heads, but none screamed "Her!"
"Guess no choice but that method."
Time to do what I do best.
Sensing mana flows, I pinpointed the Academy administrative office.
Campus center, end of the straight path from the main gate: a proud stone main building.
"There."
First floor, busiest student traffic near the entrance, magic lanterns crammed aglow through the windows.
Lowering altitude slowly, I slipped invisibly into nearby bushes by the building wall.
Sensing ambient mana like an extension of my body, I probed inside the main building.
A hallway sign read "Administrative Office" in gold letters.
"Hmm…."
Inside: desks, stacks of papers, bookshelves crammed full.
I skimmed every document's contents.
Vast enough to take ages reading one by one, but no issue for me.
Just imprint dozens, hundreds of pages into my mind at once.
This space was basically my body now.
Scanning from 60-year-old freshman lists to the latest.
Not missing a single name, I combed meticulously.
Millions of letters cascaded like waterfalls in my head.
Lots of Valentinas.
But no "true" one matching the description.
Wondering if she hadn't enrolled yet, I checked "Prospective Enrollees" and "Applicants" too.
Nada.
"Did her gender or looks change too…?"
Suspicious, I rescanned every document.
Targeting all files this time, in case I missed something.
"…Hold up."
A weird dissonance hit.
One list flashed by with a too familiar name.
[Academy Faculty List]
[Name: Kasian del Mark]
My heart dropped.
Kasian del Mark. In the original novel, he teaches heroine Valentina and later aids the protagonists in seizing the throne in part 2's finale.
Problem: he appeared as a 110-year-old geezer.
But the photo in my mind showed a vigorous young man, barely thirty, beard still dark.
"…Nah, no way."
Just a namesake, probably.
Forcing denial, I found a memo for the Academy founding anniversary and current date.
[Imperial Year 422]
Seeing the numbers, my mind blanked white.
The novel I read started in Imperial Year 500.
Meaning: 80 years before the original timeline.
422. Calendars, memos—all matched.
Undeniable.
"…Am I screwed? How did I not notice till now?"
Shock and emptiness spread, latching onto one blame target.
Lupiento Count.
The novel kept his smuggling and crimes as canon.
So I'd assumed it was that era.
"What kind of family business is smuggling…."
The North's poverty, chaotic imperial succession—identical to the novel.
History repeats, huh? In this way?
Dazed in futility, I stared blankly at the sky.
"What now…."
Why was I even hunting protagonists again?
My blank mind drew no memories.
Only two names surfaced.
"Arwen and Yriel…."
Explained their different looks.
Arwen was long dead by novel time; Yriel, then….
"160 years old back then?"
Nah, couldn't be.
Canon: Tower Master Yriel younger than Kasian.
Kasian dissed Yriel as rootless; Yriel fired back "old fart."
"What the hell…!"
The more I thought, the more chaotic.
Calming down, deep breaths, sorting thoughts.
First: novel protagonists don't exist yet.
Thus, no novel events; my actions will massively impact future plot….
"…So what?"
p>
Whatever.
My priorities: 1) my safety, 2) North's safety.
Novel plot fit neither.
"If anything, it'd just get in the way."
I'd started this out of curiosity anyway.
"Haa… fine then…."
Standing, I brushed dirt off my butt.
Plenty to do while alive; protagonists can handle their story later.
Even better—no more bound to novel plot.
Rationalizing didn't erase shame over not checking the year. Heat rose to my face.
"…On the way back, time to fleece the count again."
The culprit behind my delusion. Three-generation drug-smuggling dynasty.
Alric's face flashed, but….
"Won't get caught. Easy."
Maintaining invisibility, I lifted into the air again.
I got lost often, but the count's mansion? I could find it blindfolded. Crystal clear.