Chapter 18: On the First Day of Enrollment, a Status Window Opened (2)
Something most students never even consider is that a university’s staff category in fact includes countless workers besides professors and teaching assistants.
Security guards, for instance, handle campus security and safety.
Or clerical assistants, who manage administrative work across the board.
Just as the worker cleaning a dining hall goes largely unseen while people are eating, there are people who appear at the edge of one’s vision and vanish again unless one consciously notices them.
A gardener is the same. Which is precisely why Elizaveta slotted Ivan into the gardener’s post.
Not a conspicuous occupational category like professor or teaching assistant, a sinecure that would look out of place nowhere at all—
—and at the same time, a post with no fixed duties. A gardener is needed only where there is a garden to begin with, and Yansk University has no garden.
“Hm.”
Only natural. A university built in the middle of the capital would hardly squander its grounds on something like a garden or flower park.
Accordingly, even with the Princess creating a position, no one would suspect a thing.
Because they’d assume that for a truly important figure, or if Elizaveta meant to run some operation inside the university, she would have placed her agent in a more significant occupational category.
The Prince’s faction had probably concluded that one of Elizaveta’s subordinates had quietly gotten an acquaintance hired.
Because something on this scale amounts to no more than the petty circumvention rampant throughout the kingdom of “plant a crony in a cushy post and siphon off the pension.” (It isn’t illegal. Even in the House of Lords, corruption on this scale is perceived as rather clean.)
“So it was here after all.”
Accordingly, Yansk University’s gardener has a great deal of time.
Enough to pursue ample leisure activity.
At this moment, the leisure activity of Yansk University’s gardener was explosives removal.
They accounted for the security guards’ patrol routes, the movement radius of the campus population, and the sight lines from every building.
These fellows were “professionals.”
Ivan narrowed his eyes as he removed the third explosive. It was a crude improvised magic power bomb, which was exactly why the culprit pool couldn’t be narrowed.
Ivan’s reasons for identifying and hunting down explosives were as follows.
One, because it is “common sense” for an assault to occur at an academy entrance ceremony.
One, because at this moment, with a bomber hanging in the sky and the Counterintelligence Command’s vigilance at its absolute peak, any organization capable of assaulting the academy must necessarily be “professional.”
Reason it out on that basis, reverse-engineer the opponent’s movement, and one can pinpoint where bombs would be planted.
A place unseen by the guards.
And at the same time, a shadowed spot not exposed to any possible civilian.
On top of that, a blind angle no one could catch from any building’s windows.
Comb the intersection of those conditions and out come the bombs. At this point it’s no different from harvesting new potatoes.
Roughly determine the location, stroll on over, and pluck it up. That’s all.
“Now it’s only a question of whose doing this is.”
And there lay the problem.
There were far too many candidates that came to mind.
The demonfolk. Lowest in probability, which is exactly why they’re suspicious.
These fellows had ample motive to attack Yansk University. But at the same time, unless they were morons, there was no way they’d commit the same act again right after their last failure.
The Elves. Suspicious, if anything. But the motive was faint.
With the warship itself still hanging over Yansk University even now, they were best positioned to pull something like this.
But even if the Elves did this and damaged Krasilov’s prestige, what they’d gain was far too little.
The Crown Prince’s faction. Presumably the closest to being the culprit.
These fellows possessed both the means and the motive to attack Yansk University. But today would have been difficult. Because the Counterintelligence Command, having taken the direct brunt of Elizaveta’s fury, was guarding this vicinity with murder in its eyes.
So: far too many candidates come to mind.
Which meant a secret organization whose identity could not be pinned down had planted a highly capable operative inside the academy right now.
An ordinary academy story.
At this point, Ivan actually felt reassured.
Right. An assault at the academy entrance ceremony, and secret operatives planted inside the academy—that’s what makes it an academy story.
He’d been uneasy precisely because among this year’s new students there was no one doing quick-draw swordsmanship, introducing himself as a Heavenly Demon, chewing a blade of grass while blasting away with a pump action as a cowboy, or being a young girl tanker who swears strangely well.
Ivan shook his head with a wry smile and headed for the next projected explosives zone.
And then, a strange remark reached him.
Very faintly.
“What’s that supposed to be. Santa Claus?”
Ivan’s eyes opened sharply. He bent at the waist as though he’d noticed nothing at all.
There was a pebble of just the right size.
Gripping the pebble as naturally as if tying a shoelace, he hurled it straight toward the direction the voice had come from.
Clang!
The sound of something deflecting it, and simultaneously Ivan’s body shot out like lightning. Straight toward the direction of the sound.
Tap, tap-tap! The sound of swift footsteps came, and Ivan ended up halting.
Vanished without a trace. Outside Yansk University, into the vast crowds waiting for the entrance ceremony to end.
“Santa Claus.”
Ivan let out a dry laugh and turned back. Retracing his path, after a moment he spotted the pebble, cleanly split in two.
He broke the information down and reassembled it piece by piece.
Swordsmanship. A young male, or a female. If male, at least young enough to be pre-voice-change. Too indistinct to pin down the voice; I’d need to hear it another 2 or 3 times to gauge it. Height, unconfirmed. Swift movement. Rapid reflexes. This is probably Line-of-Fire Detection. An ability difficult to possess at a student’s level, yet the probability of being a student is extremely high.
He changed direction and walked on. This time toward the campus interior.
Toward the most dangerous place in Yansk University. Toward the grand auditorium where Elizaveta would be observing the entrance ceremony.
And toward the Counterintelligence Command’s field control room, which would certainly be nearby.
“Santa……Claus.”
There is no folk legend called Santa Claus in this world.
Naturally there is no Christmas either. No righteous old man in red, a thief who fills stockings with sweets and toys, exists here.
That was the reason he reacted so acutely to that trivial bit of muttering.
Which meant.
“A possessor.”
Had this fellow written a “5,700-character critique of gratitude” too? Or was it some product of coincidence? Hit by a truck? Diving into the Han River is too dated a style, so let’s rule that out. Of course, they could be the original author. There are plenty of cases like that.
By what trigger, in what manner, had they fallen into this world?
But one thing he could be certain of:
That they know this game is an academy story. Because there’s no other reason a possessor would go out of their way to enroll at or take employment with the university.
Which meant this fellow—
—knows the “original.”
Knows what unfolds hereafter.
Knows the ending.
“Ah, hold on. Halt there! This is a restricted zone!”
“Summon Dmitri.”
“What? Whatever you’ve heard, and from where……”
Crrrunch!
Ivan bent back the arm of the uniformed soldier blocking him. The instant the soldier reacted and drew a revolver from his sleeve, Ivan twisted the latch and disassembled it as smoothly as flowing water.
The soldier whose arm was seized stared blankly at the revolver in his hand, now nothing but a grip.
The next moment, click, click. Muzzles sprang out in an instant.
Five. Good state of training. Well disguised, too.
The 5 soldiers surrounding him were each dressed differently. Like ordinary citizens one might see anywhere.
Ivan swept his gaze over the soldiers around him once, drew a deep breath, and exhaled short again.
Anger surged. Impatience was eating away at his forbearance with a crackle.
“Summon Dmitri.”
“Are you an acquaintance of the Lieutenant Colonel? Rather than causing a disturbance here, somewhere quieter……”
“Ivan.”
“……Sir?”
“My name is Ivan Petrovich. Formerly of the Annihilation Corps. Is there anyone here?”
“I was in the final cohort, senior. Forgive me, but might I confirm your face……?”
The soldier Ivan had seized and forced to his knees carefully raised his head. Slowly setting down the revolver grip he’d still been holding, and spreading his hand wide.
He examined Ivan’s face with a bewildered expression for a good while, then raised one hand and gently covered the area beneath Ivan’s nose.
“Good heavens. Really……’little’ Ivan……?”
Cold sweat dripped from the face of the soldier as he examined the eyes, the bridge of the nose, the forehead.
He hurriedly signaled with his eyes and waved the surrounding soldiers back. Then he bowed his head with a respectful expression.
“Lieutenant Colonel Petrovich. It is an honor to meet you.”
“Your name?”
“Osip Sorenov. You likely won’t know me. I was of the 3rd Strike Team, and I only ever saw you in person once, from very far off.”
“I’ve remembered you now. Osip.”
Ivan released the soldier’s arm and stepped back. Osip brushed off his knees a couple of times, rose, and respectfully extended a hand. Ivan took it and they shook.
“Do not mourn those who departed before us.”
“For I too stand in the same rank as they.”
“I heard you had fallen, Lieutenant Colonel. I distinctly saw your nameplate at the National Cemetery……”
“And I never thought there was a survivor from the 3rd Strike Team.”
“I survived in place of the finest men of this age.”
“That is true of all of us.”
The final mission every strike team of the Annihilation Corps received was “assassinate a Seven Dragon General.”
Therefore, including Ivan’s strike team, the only one to return alive—if there happened to be any other survivor at all—
—they were merely the remainder, indebted with their lives to the finest men there were.
Ivan clapped Osip’s shoulder a couple of times and spoke again.
“Summon Dmitri. And tell him I need the roster of all incoming students—no. Of every undergraduate, and the register of every staff member. Tell him I need the list of everyone who can currently approach Yansk University: observers who attended the entrance ceremony, VIPs, their families, acquaintances, relatives.”
“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. Hey, inform Lieutenant Colonel Cherkatov! Tell him an emergency has arisen!”
The agents, wearing bewildered expressions at having failed to keep up with events, hurriedly left their posts.
Looking toward the grand auditorium where the entrance ceremony was in full swing, Ivan slowly steadied his breathing.
A possessor.
Korean, perhaps. No, it doesn’t matter what they are. It means they’re an Earthling.
A compatriot from home. Sadly, that was so.
That was so. A bitter feeling rose. In Kim Seon-woo, and in Ivan alike.
Because they would have to be killed.
He needed information about the ending—
—he had to eliminate the variable standing in the way of the ending—
—and most importantly of all.
“I am no NPC.”
Ivan closed his eyes.
I am no NPC. My memories, my experience, my career are not a prologue. I am no NPC.
My life is not merely a background story passing by. I—I—
I have to survive and go home.
So there are more reasons to kill you than to let you live.
Before I hear that I, “Ivan Petrovich,” am in that damned “original” of yours.
Before it’s too late. Without fail.
***
“Hah, haah…… hah…… what the hell was that madman……! An aggressive monster? No, fuck, nobody told me there was anything like that! Damn it, damn it, where did this go off the rails!”
As he wiped away cold sweat and panted for a good while, a familiar voice suddenly reached him.
It was “Father.”
“So you’ve come. Where were you and what were you doing…… never mind. Pathetic thing.”
“Father……”
“Sit. All this commotion over a single trip to the lavatory. As worthless as ever.”
This damned “good-for-nothing youngest son.”
If it’s a “good-for-nothing,” isn’t it normally a classic fantasy where you get head-patted from the moment of possession onward?
He was supposed to have splendidly blocked this “academy assault” and started turning the mood around from here, and then the quest suddenly got cancelled!
[“D-Rank Quest” Interdict the Academy Assault -CANCELLED-] [The academy is under attack by an unidentified group! Interdict the assault on the grand auditorium and faculty facilities at the entrance ceremony!] [Objective: Remove campus explosives 3/3 (REMOVED)] [Optional Objective: Eliminate intruder -CANCELLED-] [Optional Objective: Protect new students 0/322 -CANCELLED-] [Reward: -CANCELLED-]
“Damn it.”
He’d lost an important early quest. Isn’t an academy assault originally the protagonist’s debut stage?
It was the perfect opportunity to make a solid impression on the heroines and future companions and win the instructors’ regard……!
The quest had cancelled itself out of nowhere, so he’d run over in shock, only to run into a freak who looked like Santa Claus!
And on top of that, what is this?
[“???-Rank Quest” The Gardener of St. Yansk University.] [You have caught his eye. We wish you fortune in war.] [Objective: Slay St. Yansk University’s gardener, Ivan Petrovich] [Optional Objective: Win over Ivan Petrovich] [Optional Objective: Conceal information] [Additional Objective: Survive] [Failure Penalty: Death]
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