Chapter 26 - The Saint and the Woodsman (4)

The suspiciously wealthy foreign benefactor visiting the orphanage director's office could only get down to business after making a tremendous fuss upon learning that Ivan had no bedroom.

The Saint calmly listened to Ivan's story (most of which Enrique told), then took a sip of tea. At least one Possessor at the university, possibly as many as three.

"How strange."

"Hm?"

"Enrique. Haven't you heard? They say only two or so people are pulled into this world each century."

"Uh, right?"

"How many does that make now?"

The Saint set down her tea and quietly folded her hands. Her eyes now held the depth of a high-ranking priest's.

"Maximilien, the Demon King, and Ivan. That makes three. There may be more elsewhere, but even then, only one or two at most whom I don't know about."

"... Huh?"

"That was some twenty years ago."

The Demon King's arrival, Maximilien's arrival, and Ivan's arrival. All some twenty years ago. Not even a generation had passed, let alone a century.

"The Demon King's and Maximilien's stories are over. Whatever Brother Cyril's story may be, its ending must be close at hand. But what would it mean if others appeared now?"

"Hm? Is that a problem?"

"It isn't normal. I served Maximilien, who was one of those pulled into this world. As such, I know all the Church's old records concerning them."

Two or so each century. Whenever they appeared, they invariably distinguished themselves somewhere, throwing themselves into it as though each were crafting a narrative of their own.

Once they brought their era's story to a close and disappeared, time would pass before others were pulled in to turn a new page.

So now, with the Demon King dead and every nation quiet, what possible reason was there for new Possessors to appear?

Even if the few nations whose military strength remained intact after the war against the Demon King, and the localized conflicts over colonial expansion, could be taken as portents of danger...

It was still too soon. The world was too devastated to face another war. No nation had the resources to dare launch an all-out offensive.

Would even the Demon King's return pose a problem? Most of the Hero's Party were still alive and well, and every nation had already completed its preparations to keep "powerful individuals" in check.

Moreover, the demons had been scattered by race, enslaved or driven out of the world. Only remnants remained in distant lands. They no longer had the strength to continue the war.

"How many suspects did you say you had?"

"Three."

"Their nationalities?"

"Two from Krasilof. The other from Kallion."

"One elf and two humans, then."

The Saint folded her arms and thought for a moment.

"You said all three were students?"

"Yes."

"And none have been confirmed yet?"

"Mm."

"Then we'll have to verify it."

She nodded far more readily than expected. Nothing good ever came of the word "verify" on a believer's lips, so Ivan wondered whether she meant to hold an inquisition.

"Find out which of your suspects were truly pulled into this world. And learn what stories those children were pulled into. Then won't we know what story remains for our era?"

What stories could Possessors accomplish in this world now that the Demon King's and Maximilien's stories were over? What stories had drawn them here? She intended to piece those fragments together and prepare for the future. That was the Saint's plan.

Of course, this world was no plot in a game or novel. Whatever stories they had experienced in their "other world," imaginary works of fiction could not influence the course of this one.

But people were different. People influenced by those "stories" were different. What ideas a Possessor harbored, what actions they intended to take—those would inevitably affect this world.

Just as the Demon King, the hero, and countless Possessors before them had done, Possessors would inevitably create incidents, strife, and history.

The Saint nodded and sank into the sofa. Only after another sip of tea did a question suddenly occur to her.

"Then, Brother Cyril. What was your story?"

"I don't know."

"... Pardon? But however long it's been... Surely there was some story that gave you an intense sense of purpose, or a feeling of destiny...?"

Surely he'd had at least one...? Most Possessors did.

Ivan hesitated at her question, then spoke heavily.

"There were too many."

"Pardon...?"

In his former life, Kim Seonwoo had left hate comments on a total of eight games, eleven webtoons, and thirty-odd web novels. All in different genres. Whatever it was, so long as he liked it.

Ivan carefully explained, starting with the superstition in his world that "criticizing an author can get you transported into their work."

The immature Kim Seonwoo had wanted to become a Possessor, so he had followed that superstition and hammered all sorts of works with scathing critical reviews... In other words, "5,700-character punches of gratitude."

As soon as they heard his matter-of-fact recollection, Enrique averted her gaze and the Saint fell briefly speechless.

"Let us repent, Brother."

The Saint clasped Ivan's hand tightly and poured divine power into him. It was warm. Warm enough to make a corner of his conscience sting.

* * *

March. The season when flowers bloomed and the spring breeze tickled the heart.

Yevgeny—Eugene—was reading the Bible, sweeping back his silky black hair. His damned Bible reading class was coming up.

The Theology Department's main hall had been built as a replica of a cathedral. Sitting on a bench beneath the green roadside trees, reading a book, he made a picture-perfect sight.

Busy casting sparks of corruption into the hearts of many aspiring nuns, Eugene suddenly paused at a notification flashing in the corner of his vision.

"Huh?"

[Warning!] [Warning!] [Warning!]

"What, what, what is it?! What now?! Cut the bullshit!"

He instinctively shrank back and looked around. No one was there.

Again. Again. This damned Status window was mumbling things only it understood, without explaining a thing!

Just as he thought that, the warning popped open. Amazingly, this time the thing began "explaining the situation."

"What...?"

[Warning!] [Survival Instinct Lv.3] [Stand up immediately and walk forward.] [Do not look back.] [Act naturally.] [Even if someone calls you...]

Whatever was going on, he needed to get out of there first. The Status window might be so unhelpful it was practically useless, but at least it didn't lie.

Apparently, this time it was going for a rules-horror story. He pressed a hand to his forehead, stood up, and began walking naturally.

The work he'd entered was definitely <The Swordsmanship Genius and Scoundrel of the Northern Grand Duke's Family>, but the title was like the Holy Roman Empire...

It wasn't a northern grand duke's family. He wasn't a swordsmanship genius. And he couldn't even act like a scoundrel!

He bit hard into his lip. This was more like S○P... or some other cosmic-horror setting.

At least this goddamn Status window... No, Fuck-you window. From now on, your name is Fuck-you window.

Grinding his teeth, Eugene struggled to keep his expression under control. Ordinary. Peaceful. Hide his trembling hands naturally inside his sleeves. Keep walking forward.

"Eugene."

"Hm?"

Naturally, naturally. Muttering that to himself, Eugene turned his head when his name was suddenly called from behind. He had to build his reputation at the academy, at least. He wore a warm, devout smile.

"I was right. Yevgeny is Eugene. China, Japan, Korea. Where are you from?"

"!!!!!"

Murder Santa Claus was glaring at him from behind a tree.

Glancing at the warning window flashing madly, Eugene slowly, very carefully turned his head back with a crack of his neck.

"Mmm~ Mm. Ahh, lovely weather."

As though he hadn't turned because someone called him, but merely to stretch... He kept stealing glances to see whether there were any other warnings, whether the damned Status window was trying another narrative trick.

THUMP

A powerful hand landed on Eugene's shoulder.

Ivan studied his eyes and considered. His gaze was awkward. This wasn't simply the behavior of someone flustered or terrified.

His eyes were clearly tracking something. Of course, there was nothing in the direction the boy was looking. The most reasonable inference, then, was that there was "something only he could see."

"What do you see?"

He didn't know whether Possessors received any special perks. He, at least, had never received one. Had Maximilien been born with some special talent too? There was no way to know.

But if that were the case—if there were something special about Possessors—Kim Seonwoo's "common sense" allowed for a few reasonable inferences.

A Status window, a traits window, or something similar. That staple of early game-possession stories: a conveniently helpful blue augmented-reality display visible only to its owner.

Perhaps this boy could see the very thing he had longed for so desperately.

Meanwhile, the moment Eugene heard Ivan's words, a thought came reflexively to him. The strange man before him was definitely another Possessor. Probably Korean.

Damn it. Dual protagonists...? That was a shortcut to failure. Wasn't that way too old-school?

Eugene acted as normal as he possibly could. Another Possessor who'd lived in this world longer than he had—was he more likely to be friendly or hostile?

At the very least, this man had a history of throwing a rock brimming with murderous intent the moment he'd noticed him. In other words, he was a monster that aggroed on sight.

Eugene's mind spun. He recalled the initial Quest. Kill Ivan Petrovich, conceal information, or persuade him. Failure meant death.

"U-um, wh-who are you...? Do you knooow me...?"

"I intend to get to know you."

"The department head won't, won't stand for this..."

"Saint Patricia authorized it."

With the sound of his faith—which had been scant to begin with—shattering, Eugene was led away by Ivan's hand.

[Warning -Canceled-] [Survival Instinct Lv.3] [Stand up immediately and walk forward. -Canceled-] [Do not look back. -Canceled-] [Act naturally. -Canceled-] [Even if someone calls you, do not answer. He is not an ally. -Canceled-] [Leave with the gardener. Do not resist. He is your ally.]

Didn't people usually die when a message like that appeared in a rules-horror story? Eugene stared blankly at the Status window and wondered.

It was March, with its pleasant, warm spring breeze.

* * *

Looking down over the peaceful campus, the Saint quietly made the sign of the cross.

A Possessor. One who had suffered alone for thirty years. One who didn't know his own story, who had lost his purpose, who had faded away as a supporting character in someone else's tale.

She prayed as she watched Ivan leave. May that taciturn woodsman finally find a purpose in life. And may at least a handful of happiness remain in his hands at the end.

"The student you said you needed for the 'special class'... Oswald, a first-year in the Magic Department. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that was his name. Is there a problem?"

"Well... Nothing one could really call a problem. The boy himself is a very diligent and talented student, but..."

The head of the Magic Department watched the Saint's reaction with an odd expression.

He was an elf from the Kallion archipelago. Until just before the semester began, he had been a highly respected mage in Kallion.

Elves had a small population, vastly smaller than that of humans. As a result, most scions of prominent families knew one another well. Very well.

He was no exception. Any student who could come this far from home to study abroad had to belong to an influential family in the Kallion archipelago, so he could readily recall the particulars of the student she meant.

Oswald Eastvelfen. A legitimate son of a renowned Kallion mage family, and the son of a serving privy councilor. A diligent, intelligent, considerate, and talented young noble.

A boy with a few minor problems, but a promising young man nonetheless. As for those minor problems...

"He's had a somewhat... unfortunate life."

"Unfortunate?"

"He was betrothed to the privy council chairman's daughter before they were born, but the engagement was broken off recently. However... Hmm."

How was he to explain this? Ernbert, the head of the Magic Department, wiped away his sweat and sighed.

Elves were a nearly perfect species in most respects, but a god jealous of their flawlessness had left them one defect. That defect was "obsession." (Not arrogance. That was only natural for elves.)

Obsession with success, obsession with honor, obsession with knowledge. It came in many forms, but in this case...

Evelyn Rust Peiz, the privy council chairman's daughter, was bizarrely obsessed with Oswald.

* * *

<The Genius Mage the Villainess Is Obsessed With> was the worst novel I'd ever read.

Goddamn it. I mean it. It was kindling. I'd even dropped it after just thirty chapters, without leaving a single hate comment or criticism.

I'd made a clean exit. The author wouldn't even know I existed as a reader. So why?

Oswald gazed up at the sky, doing his best to ignore the piercing stare boring into the back of his head.

"Fuck my life."