Chapter 27 - A Night of Counting Stars (1)

There was a saying: whenever something strange happened in world history, blame Britain and you would probably be right.

Kim Seonwoo had studied internet memes more diligently than world history, so while he did not know the exact reasons behind it, he knew the meme itself.

As Ivan, he knew that a similar meme was widespread in this premodern world.

Whenever something strange happened in world history, blame the elves and you would probably be right.

Those elven bastards were fundamentally a people brimming with a sense of superiority: arrogant, proud, and convinced that racism was common sense.

The only reason the elves had been able to join the United Kingdoms was that they found demons even more repulsive than humans. (Dwarves, unfortunately, were a people without prejudice, so they had sided with the demons.)

["There is an academic theory that humans might be evolved monkeys. In most cases, there is little difference, but humans do at least show a glimmer of intelligence. Don't take it so negatively. That was a compliment."]

["What? A human talking back? Good heavens, what is the world coming to..."]

["Magic...? That is rather a grand name for playing in the dirt with mana. Human, isn't your race a little too young to practice magic?"]

These were all things Veolgrin, reputed to have the finest character of any elf, had said to Ivan personally. Ivan still remembered those moments vividly.

Every member of the Hero's Party was a lunatic, but Veolgrin was a particularly high-quality specimen.

More remarkably, Veolgrin had actually meant no particular harm. From his perspective, he was simply expressing perfectly natural views.

Even now, with their already small population slashed by the war against the demons, when they had reached the point of having to open their borders to preserve their state...

Elves were fundamentally assholes.

"A 'Volunteer Club'?"

"Yes."

"Me?"

"Mm."

"Why?"

The Saint and the thief of the Hero's Party—in other words, the head of the Theology Department and a full professor in the Knight Department—had authorized it, as had the head of the Magic Department. He could have explained that participation was not compulsory, but asked the elf to spare a little time out of respect for them, at least.

Instead, Ivan stroked his axe handle and considered his options. After all, even the Demon King had acknowledged the historical truth that killing an elf was faster than persuading one.

"Boss, let me handle this!"

At that moment, a young man sprang resolutely to his feet beside Ivan and shouted.

This is the story of how he suddenly acquired a little brother.

* * *

"I'm Korean. Man, I sure hope you're Korean too, sir. Always good to meet someone from home, right? Now, sir? Is there any reason for us to get angry with each other? Did you know? Even the Bible says there's no problem in this world that can't be solved by talking."

The Possessor he had abducted from the Theology Department grounds started spouting this nonsense the moment he came to his senses.

Ivan was somewhat taken aback. Not only had the boy revealed his identity far too easily, he was considerably more shamelessly affable than expected.

"Your name is Ivan Petrovich, right, sir? Man, even your name is stylish. Yevgeny. What do you think of that? For a Korean, it's hard to pronounce and a pain to remember. I mean, seriously, Stalin is about the only thing I know about Russia, so why did I suddenly end up in a world like this? Oh, you are from after Stalin's time, right? The Soviet Union actually collapsed."

He rattled off a torrent of things Ivan had never asked about.

Ivan stroked his chin as he listened to Eugene's rambling, then suddenly stopped.

"How did you know I was Korean?"

"Well, you were guessing I had a status window, weren't you? See, status windows are really a Northeast Asian concept. Character sheets appearing in a novel's narration? That's pretty much just Korean web novels and Japanese light novels! It was still a pretty unfamiliar concept elsewhere, you know? Though it was starting to crop up more recently..."

"And?"

"Korea and the English-speaking world are about the only places that pronounce the name Eugene exactly that way! Korea was the overlap, so I took a guess! Hehe."

All three Northeast Asian countries belonged to the Chinese-character cultural sphere, but they read those characters differently. In other words, the same characters could be pronounced differently.

Japanese had long vowels; Chinese had tones. Pronouncing Yu-jin crisply, with short vowels, made it a Korean name.

That meant he had worked all this out while being dragged here. Was it survival instinct, or had his status window helped him?

Even taking those things into account...

'This kid is more capable than I expected...?'

Ivan nodded.

"Right. So you can see a status window?"

"Yes, of course! Can you see one too, sir? Man, when it first popped up right in front of me, I thought I was set for life! But it doesn't give me anything, I don't get anything out of it, and it suddenly hands out quests all on its own, then cancels them. It's not a status window, it's a fucking shit window. Is yours like that too, sir?"

"I don't have one."

"Good heavens, I envy you, sir! I don't know if you'll believe this, but in the four years I've been here, the status window hasn't helped me even once! Man, whenever I try to do anything, it's just 'Warning! Warning!'"

Eugene's talkativeness exceeded even his competence.

"Oh, right, how many years have you lived here, sir?"

"Thirty."

"Oh..."

Eugene sucked in a breath and shut his mouth at Ivan's answer.

Thirty years without a status window...? Wait, that would put him here before the demon war even started...?

"What year was it when you left Korea?"

"2021."

"Oh! It was '22 for me! Good heavens, does a year's difference back home mean thirty years here? Then since I've been here four years... not even a few months would have passed!"

"We can't assume that."

The Saint's stories of Possessors from the distant past had included things that could only be products of modern civilization.

There was no reason to assume time in this world necessarily ran in proportion to time on Earth. Someone from further in the future might have arrived further in the past than he had.

What criteria were there? What conditions governed possession?

"Oh, right, sir, what did you do before coming here? I thought we might have something in common. The two of us."

"I was a university student."

"Oh, I had a job. Well, well, that makes me the older guy! Want to call me big bro?"

"...??"

Ivan stared silently at the lunatic before him.

Eugene, who had been chattering away so energetically, flinched under his gaze. He hurried on.

"Buuut age doesn't really matter, does it? If we count the years you've actually lived, you must be at least over fifty now, sir...? Twenty years on Earth and thirty here... right?"

"...?"

Ivan considered that for a moment. For one thing, he had never thought particularly deeply about his own age.

But somehow that felt like a dig.

"Sooo... what I mean is! Um! Would you mind if I called you Boss?"

He was fucked.

Eugene cursed his own mouth and inwardly groaned at the awkward silence. Why the hell had he said that? Had he lost his mind?

Watching him, Ivan thought:

This one was rather entertaining, wasn't he?

Talented enough with a sword to use Line of Fire Detection, taking a formal theology course, equipped with a status window, and a smooth talker...?

He could be useful. More useful than Dmitry, at least.

"Whew... well, if that's a no, it's a no! How about I stick with 'sir' instead of 'Boss'? If that makes you more comfortable..."

"I don't mind."

"... Yes, Boss!"

Ivan nodded at Eugene's sycophantic little grin.

"I have a job for you."

When he had analyzed the profiles of every student at St. Jansk University, he had identified three suspected Possessors: Eugene, Yuri, and an elf named Oswald.

This boy might be the only Possessor, and the others ordinary inhabitants of this other world unlucky enough to fall under suspicion.

But it was better to be certain about everything. With the Saint's authorization, there was no risk of trouble, either.

If he gathered as many potential Possessors as possible, determined which ones really were, and analyzed their commonalities...

'What my story is. What stories remain in this world.'

There might at least be some common ground from which he could draw conclusions. The conditions for becoming a Possessor, the shared circumstances of their possession, and whether an 'ending' existed.

After all, a sufficiently broad control group was what guaranteed meaningful experimental results.

"Yes, Boss! Just leave it to me!!"

* * *

Isabelle, Yuri, and Esidisi had been eating together every day since the semester began. This was the result of several overlapping interests.

First, Isabelle. She was instinctively conscious of how the people around her looked at her, a skill acquired through long years of court life. She could recognize other people's insincerity.

Her identity as the hero's daughter was so well known that everyone who approached her was inevitably aware of her background. That was one of the things Isabelle hated most, so she had become an outcast by choice.

Esidisi's case, on the other hand, was a little different. As she had recalled before, she was attending university with her uncle.

Arts students were far too delicate and sensitive to readily befriend Esidisi with her muscular uncle shadowing her every move, so she had become an outcast against her will.

Yuri's case hardly needed explaining. She was an orphan, and however much times had improved, most people who could afford university entrance fees were, naturally, nobles.

A war orphan, with skills that far outstripped those of the nobility. Her very existence grated on their pride. And so she, too, had become an outcast.

While these three loners were soothing one another's wounds and writing their own teen drama together...

"Oh! Mister!"

Isabelle put down her sandwich and waved cheerfully at someone.

Yuri, who had been munching on her own sandwich alongside her, turned her head—and promptly dropped it.

The gardener was walking straight toward her, a towel draped around his neck.

'They've added a blond, tanned creep—?!'

Accompanying him was a young nobleman, grinning like a sycophant.