Chapter 26: The Saintess and the Woodcutter (4)
The suspiciously wealthy foreign donor who had come to the orphanage director’s office was only able to move on to the main subject after hearing that Ivan had no bedroom and raising a full commotion about it.
The Saintess listened calmly to Ivan’s story (in most cases told by Enrique) and then took a mouthful of tea.
At least one possessor within the university, at most about 3.
“That’s a strange thing.”
“Hm?”
“Enrique. Have you not heard? That the dragged-in appear only one or two per century.”
“Uh, yes, right?”
“How many are there now?”
The Saintess set down her tea and quietly folded her hands.
Her eyes had now deepened into those of a high priest.
“Maximilien and the Demon King, and Ivan. That’s 3. I don’t know whether there are more elsewhere, but even so it would be one person I don’t know of, at most 2.”
“……Hmm?”
“And that’s within the past 20-odd years.”
The period when the Demon King appeared, the period when Maximilien appeared, and the period when Ivan appeared.
That period is some 20 years. Not a century; not even a single generation has passed yet.
“The Demon King’s story and Maximilien’s story have ended. Whatever Brother Kirilts’s story may be, its ending will not be far off. But what if other people appear here again?”
“Hm? Is that a problem?”
“It isn’t normal. I attended Maximilien, who was one of the dragged-in. Accordingly, I know all of the cathedral’s old records concerning the dragged-in.”
One or two per century.
When they appear they invariably distinguish themselves somewhere.
Zealously, as though each were constructing a narrative of their own.
After they conclude the story of their era and vanish, time passes again and others are dragged in to turn a new page.
Which is to say, in this period when the Demon King is dead and every nation has fallen quiet—
—what reason could there possibly be for new possessors to appear?
Even granting that the few nations whose military strength remains intact since the war with the Demon King, and the localized disputes tangled up with colonial expansion, amount to something like a portent of danger.
It is still far too early. The world is far too devastated to face another war. At present no nation has the remaining capacity to dare an all-out war.
Even supposing the Demon King reappeared, would that pose a problem. Most of the Hero’s Party remains sound, and every nation had already completed preparations for checking “powerful individuals.”
On top of that the demonfolk have been scattered by race, driven into slavery or expelled beyond the world. Only stragglers remain in distant lands. They no longer have the strength to sustain a war.
“You said several are suspected?”
“Three.”
“Nationalities?”
“Two Krasilov. The other Kalion.”
“One Elf and 2 humans.”
The Saintess folded her arms and sank into thought for a moment.
“You said all 3 are students?”
“Yes.”
“And it hasn’t been verified yet?”
“Hm.”
“Then verification is in order.”
The Saintess nodded far more readily than expected. Since from time immemorial nothing had ever ended peacefully when the word verification left a believer’s mouth, Ivan wondered whether she meant to conduct an inquisition.
“Sift out the ones among your suspects who truly are the dragged-in. And find out what sort of story those children were dragged into as well. After that, shall we not be able to learn what story remains for our era?”
After the Demon King’s story and Maximilien’s story ended, what story it is that possessors might accomplish in this world. What story led them here.
Stitch those fragments together and prepare for the future. That was the Saintess’s plan.
Of course, this world is no mere plot inside a game or novel. Whatever story they experienced in “another world,” a fictitious creation cannot influence this world’s currents.
But a person is different. A figure influenced by that “story” is different. What imagery a possessor harbors, what actions that possessor plans to carry out. That much, at least, certainly does affect this world.
Just as the Demon King, the Hero, and the countless possessors before them did. A possessor will certainly go on creating incidents, strife, and history.
The Saintess nodded and sank into the sofa. Only after another mouthful of tea did she suddenly pose this question:
“So then, Brother Kirilts. What was your story?”
“I don’t know.”
“……Pardon? No, however long ago it was…… surely a fierce sense of purpose arose, or you felt a destiny, or such…… a story……?”
Surely you had one……? Because most possessors generally do.
Hesitating at the Saintess’s question, Ivan opened his mouth heavily.
“There were far too many.”
“Pardon……?”
Over the course of his life Kim Seon-woo posted hate comments on a total of 8 games, 11 webtoons, and some 30 web novels.
Each of a different genre; whatever he happened to like, it made no difference what.
Ivan explained this carefully. Beginning with the fact that in our world there is a superstition that if you attack an author, you can achieve possession.
That the immature Kim Seon-woo, wanting to be possessed, had followed that superstition and hurled razor-edged critiques, that is, a “5,700-character punch of gratitude,” at every sort of work.
Immediately after hearing his composed recollection, Enrique averted her gaze and the Saintess was momentarily lost for words.
“Let us repent, Brother.”
The Saintess gripped Ivan’s hand tightly and poured divine power into him. It was warm. Warm enough to sting one corner of his heart.
***
March, the season when flowers bloom and the spring breeze tickles the chest.
Yevgeny, Yujin, was reading scripture while sweeping back his glossy black hair. Because the damned scripture reading period was approaching.
The theology department’s main chapel, built as an exact replica of a cathedral. Sitting on a bench beneath green roadside trees reading a book was in itself a picture-perfect scene.
Yujin, who was casting sparks of corruption into the hearts of many aspiring nuns, suddenly stopped his hand at the sight of a notification glittering in one corner of his vision.
“Hm?”
[Warning!] [Warning!] [Warning!]
“What, what, what is it! What now, out of nowhere!! Stop screwing around!”
He reflexively hunched his body and looked around. There was no one.
Again. Again. This damned status window was once more muttering things only it understood and offering no explanation whatsoever!
As he was thinking so, the warning text soon burst with a pop. This time, astonishingly, this thing began to provide a “situation briefing.”
“What……?”
[Warning!] [Survival Instinct Lv.3] [Rise from your seat immediately and walk forward.] [Do not look behind you.] [Behave naturally.] [Even if someone calls you……]
Whatever it was, he had to get away from the spot. The status window was so unhelpful that not a shred of use could be found in it, but at least it never lied.
This time the concept seems to be a Napolitan-style horror story. He clutched his forehead, rose, and began walking naturally.
The work he had been possessed into was definitely The Northern Grand Duke Family’s Sword-Genius Good-for-Nothing, but this was like a Holy Roman Empire of a title……
Because it wasn’t a Northern Grand Duke Family. And he wasn’t a sword genius. And he wasn’t even managing to be a good-for-nothing!
He bit his lip with a grind. This is closer to S○P…… or to some cosmic horror setting or other.
At least this damned status window…… no, shatus window. From now on your name is shatus window.
Yujin ground his teeth and forced his expression under control. Ordinarily, with a serene face, hiding his trembling hands naturally inside his sleeves. Tromp tromp, forward.
“Yujin.”
“Hm?”
Naturally, naturally.
Muttering so, Yujin suddenly turned his head at his own name being called from behind him.
Because he at least had to build a reputation at the academy. Wearing a warm, devout smile.
“So I was right. Yevgeny is Yujin. China, Japan, Korea. Where did you come from?”
“!!!!!”
The murder Santa Claus was glaring at him from behind a tree.
Yujin glanced at the madly blinking warning window and slowly, very carefully, turned his head back with a crick.
“Mmm~ mm. Ahh, the weather really is fine.”
As if he hadn’t turned because he’d been called but had simply meant to loosen up……. Glancing repeatedly to see whether there was another warning, whether the damned status window was attempting another narrative trick.
Thunk.
A powerful hand settled on Yujin’s shoulder.
Ivan gazed steadily into his eyes and thought. His gaze management is unnatural. It isn’t merely the behavior of someone flustered or terrified.
It is plainly a gaze conscious of something. Of course, there is nothing in the direction this kid is looking.
In that case, the most reasonable inference is that there is “something only this fellow can see.”
“What do you see?”
Whether possessors have some kind of privilege, he doesn’t know. Because he at least had never received such a thing.
Had Maximilien also been born with some special talent? That’s unknowable.
But if that were so.
If “possessors” have something special about them, then by Kim Seon-woo’s “common sense” a few reasonable inferences can be made.
A status window, a traits window, or something similar to those.
That thing which commonly appears in early game-possession stories. A convenient blue-display augmented-reality screen visible only to oneself.
The thing he had so longed for might, perhaps, be visible to this kid’s eyes.
Meanwhile, the instant he heard Ivan’s words, Yujin reflexively thought:
The freak before me is definitely another “possessor.” Presumably of Korean origin.
Damn it. Double protagonists……? That’s the express lane to failure. Isn’t that far too old-school a style?
Yujin feigned ordinariness as hard as he could. If he’s another possessor who has lived in this world longer than me, is the probability of him being friendly or hostile higher?
At the very least, this man has a track record of hurling a stone dripping with killing intent the moment he registered him. Which is to say, he corresponds to an aggressive monster.
Yujin’s head spun round and round. He recalled the first quest.
Kill Ivan Petrovich, or conceal information, or persuade.
Death upon failure.
“Uh, um, wh-who are you……? Do you kn-know me……?”
“I intend to come to know you from now on.”
“If you do this, the department head won’t stay, stay quiet……”
“It is a matter authorized by the Saintess Patricia.”
Along with the sound of what little devoutness there had been shattering to pieces, Yujin was led away by Ivan’s hand.
[Warning -CANCELLED-] [Survival Instinct Lv.3] [Rise from your seat immediately and walk forward. -CANCELLED-] [Do not look behind you. -CANCELLED-] [Behave naturally. -CANCELLED-] [Even if someone calls you, do not answer. He is not an ally. -CANCELLED-] [Depart together with the gardener. Do not resist. He is your ally.]
Doesn’t a line like this in a Napolitan-style horror story usually mean you die?
Yujin stared blankly at the status window and thought.
It was a March in which the warm spring breeze felt pleasant.
***
Looking down at the peaceful campus scenery, the Saintess quietly made the sign of the cross.
A possessor.
A possessor who had suffered alone for 30 years.
Not knowing his own story, having lost his own purpose. A possessor who had been vanishing as someone’s supporting cast.
She watched Ivan’s departing figure and prayed.
That this blunt woodcutter would now find a purpose in life.
And that at the end of it, even a handful of happiness might remain in his hands.
“The student’s name you said was needed for the ‘special class’ assignment was…… Magic Faculty first-year, Oswald. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that was the name. Is there a problem?”
“That…… there’s nothing that could be called a problem. The child himself is an extremely diligent and gifted student, but……”
The Magic Faculty department head wore a peculiar expression as he watched the Saintess’s face.
He was an Elf from the Kalion Archipelago. Until just before the term began, he was a figure active in Kalion as a mage of high repute.
Elves have a small population. Vastly fewer than humans. Accordingly, most of the descendants of great Families know one another in detail, in very great detail.
He was no exception. Since students who would come all the way overseas to study must certainly be from influential Families even within the Kalion Archipelago, he could easily recall the personal particulars of the student the Saintess named.
Oswald Eastbelphen. Legitimate heir of a renowned Kalion magic Family and son of a serving Privy Councillor. A diligent, clever, considerate, gifted young noble.
A child with a few trivial problems, but a promising young man.
By trivial problems, that is to say:
“He’s a somewhat…… ill-fated fellow.”
“Ill-fated?”
“He’s a youth who was betrothed in the womb to the Privy Chairman’s daughter, and they broke it off recently. But…… mm.”
How does one explain this?
The Magic Faculty department head, Ernbert, wiped away sweat and sighed.
Elves are in most respects a near-perfect species, but a god envious of that flawlessness left behind one defect.
Their defect is precisely “obsession.” (Not arrogance. For an Elf that is a matter of course.)
Obsession with success, obsession with honor, obsession with knowledge. Its varieties are manifold, but in this case……
The Privy Chairman’s daughter, Evelyn Rustfitz, was obsessed with Oswald to a bizarre degree.
***
The Genius Mage the Villainess Obsesses Over was the worst novel of my life.
Damn it. I mean it. It was kindling. And I even dropped it at chapter 30 and never posted a hate comment or attacked it.
I got off cleanly. The author wouldn’t even know a reader like me existed. So why.
Oswald forced himself to ignore the sharp gaze he felt on the back of his head and looked up at the sky.
“Life’s fucked.”
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