Chapter 45 - Academy Field Trips Always Come Under Attack (9)

Demons had carried out a terrorist attack on the Jansk University Knight Department's field exercise. When that sentence reached Counterintelligence Command, Dmitry gave a hearty laugh and said,

"Dock that bastard's pay."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel."

Counterintelligence Command had been keeping a close eye on the university's events. Naturally, the security measures for the field exercise had been prepared to near perfection.

The Crown Prince's Faction? Well, they had been quiet since the last incident.

Foreign anti-government organizations? What could those cripples do with all their limbs cut off?

And demons, of all things? As if they still had the resources to deploy an operational force here, on the outskirts of Prizhenkaya.

Thus, after considering objective evidence and drawing rational inferences, Dmitry had concluded that Jansk University faced no threats.

What kind of moron would plant a terrorist organization in the capital just to ruin a university event?

They might as well blow up the royal palace instead.

And an exercise Enrique was personally conducting with her disciples, at that? Hah, imbeciles. Were they seriously getting paid regularly to spew this shit?

As a result, when the third informant told him the same thing, Dmitry rubbed his hands over his face and let out a hearty laugh.

"... Dock my pay."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel."

This was driving him insane.

He grabbed his coat and left headquarters. He needed to see his old superior. Apparently Ivan had been at the scene himself, so surely he would know something.

* * *

"You know, Eshi."

"Yes, you're right."

"I haven't even started yet."

"This is the fourth time you've told me."

Esidisi was watching Isabelle with a grave expression.

When news of the terrorist attack on the recent field exercise had spread throughout the university, she had rushed to see her longtime—and practically only—friend.

Yet when she arrived at her house, there was no sign of a victim who had been caught in a terrorist attack.

Beside five or six broken wooden swords, Isabelle was smashing a training dummy with a fresh one.

The dummy, whose beard had been rendered in suspiciously meticulous detail, shattered under her blow and rolled across the ground...

"Just hear me out. I'm seriously confused, and I feel like I'm going crazy."

"... Uh-huh..."

"So, this is about a friend."

Esidisi barely stopped herself from blurting out the cold, hard fact: You don't have any friends besides me.

That was how kind and sensitive a music student she was.

"Suppose there's this man who appears out of nowhere to save her whenever she's in danger, looks after her in all sorts of ways, and meets her privately to share secrets."

"That's a very specific hypothetical..."

"Then doesn't that mean he likes my friend? What other reason could there be?"

Maximilien was, for all practical purposes, no different from someone in a vegetative state. Politically and financially, that is. It was the same reason even South Korea effectively treated someone missing for four years as dead.

So Isabelle unofficially came from a single-parent household. Her mother was a commoner, which meant she had no particular social or financial backing apart from the favors provided by the Thilles court.

Yuri, an actual orphan, would have beaten her chest in indignation at that, but Isabelle genuinely believed it.

"Well... I suppose?"

Yuri, who was actually poor, would have beaten her chest in indignation at this too, but from Esidisi's perspective, Isabelle belonged to an economically vulnerable class. (Isabelle owned a two-story house with a yard.)

Esidisi was a princess of a sovereign nation. She was Great King Einar's eldest daughter and his most cherished child. She was rich enough to smash a bandit over the head with an instrument worth a house without feeling the financial impact.

Consequently, the two had reached a peculiar meeting of minds.

'Honestly, there's nothing to squeeze out of Isabelle by getting close to her. Doesn't that mean he's trying to seduce her?'

Once they reached this conclusion, Isabelle beat her chest in indignation.

"Then why does he say no every time I ask him to eat with me?!"

"This is about your friend, right?"

"No, listen. Here's a girl ten whole years younger than him, pretty, kind, good at her studies and practicals, and perfectly capable of looking after herself. If he likes her, why does he keep pushing her away?"

"You must care about this friend as much as you care about yourself..."

When faced with an incomprehensible result, people generally begin interpreting the situation in whatever way they want to believe.

Such is the terrifying power of confirmation bias.

In the end, Esidisi nodded.

"I'll look into it. My uncle happens to have said he's friends with that man. You never know. He might be an enormous womanizer who goes around seducing everyone."

Was he really that attractive? Isabelle coolly pictured Ivan's face and considered it. A womanizer...? Going around charming women left and right...?

Hmm. If you covered the lower half of his face, he might... Could he? Yes, she supposed he could.

Isabelle became confused!

Sadly, Yuri, who could have put a proper stop to this, was currently lying in the Theology Department's inpatient ward. No one present could explain that the crazy axe assassin would kill ten more people in the time it took to date a woman.

* * *

Ivan's days were busy. Only after running the orphanage, going to work at the university to tend the roadside trees, guarding the heroes' children, and finishing the day's reports and the orphanage's accounts could he take a break.

His breaks generally consisted of weapon maintenance. He sharpened his axe until its edge could slice through fine hairs without a sound, disassembled and cleaned his firearm, then oiled it before leaning back on the sofa for a brief nap.

That was a day in Ivan's life.

The important point was that this was now in the past tense. For several days since the attack on the field exercise, Enrique had occupied his precious sanctuary and refused to budge.

"Enrique. Go home already."

"What are you talking about? I promised you, didn't I? Night watch, remember? You're abandoning your night watch? Where's your camaraderie?"

"... Don't you just want to avoid going to work?"

"Your teacher is sad. Little Ivan used to believe everything I said. Give me back my Ivan."

Ever since the terrorist attack on the field exercise, Enrique had shut herself away in the orphanage director's office.

As the person who had gotten fifty-odd noble children caught up in a terrorist attack out of nowhere, she had people everywhere grinding their teeth and hunting for her.

"It's not fair. How was I supposed to know? If anyone predicted Dwarves would suddenly come charging in, they ought to be dragged off and tortured. They're a mole."

"I see."

Instantly reclassified as a demon mole, Ivan nodded without further comment.

"Exactly! And, you know, they're just trying to dump this on me because none of them wants to take responsibility. They need to grow up."

That was hardly something an adult avoiding responsibility should say.

Ivan thought that even if he lived for over a century himself, he had no desire to grow old like that.

"Which brings me to this. Hmm. What if I said I felt the full weight of responsibility and was resigning? The more I think about it, the more I feel I've worked too hard all my life. Maybe it's about time I got some rest. That sort of thing."

"Hmm."

"Shall we take a trip? How about the sea? I don't want mountains."

"Why does this sound like I'm coming too?"

"Because you are?"

Ivan was a practical man, so he had no intention of indulging the nonsense of an old woman from a century ago.

He took Enrique's teacup away and said,

"The department can't really hold you responsible anyway. This was, quite literally, an unforeseen incident."

"R-right?"

"Yes. If anyone is responsible, it's Counterintelligence Command. Isn't preventing hostile forces from infiltrating in the first place their job?"

"You're... not wrong!"

Enrique clapped her hands and stood. There was no way she had failed to grasp something so simple; apparently, she had just wanted reassurance.

Ivan knew how to respect his elders. Unlike this uncivilized world, South Korea had firmly established ethics, morals, social norms, and the Confucian principle of deference to one's elders. (Debatable.)

That was how courteous a man he was.

"So go home now. I have plenty to do myself."

"Oh, is that so? I am so very, terribly sorry for taking up my busy disciple's precious time!"

"As you should be."

St. Vasilisa Orphanage was Ivan's masterpiece, built with every connection and asset he had accumulated over his lifetime.

Having no intention of turning it into a nursing home for an elderly vampire, he drove Enrique out of the director's office despite her utterly wounded expression.

"Oh, right. I wasn't joking about the sea. Since things have turned out this way, I was thinking of trying another educational trip! The royal government has been quietly sounding me out about it, actually."

"The royal government?"

"Exactly. You know how Krasilof's tourism industry is a bit lacking? The university students all come from great noble houses, and they'll each hold important positions someday. I suppose they want to start promoting the place early. A national project, you might say!"

"... You'd be better off dropping it."

He understood the intent, but it was an exceedingly foolish choice.

Academy group tours invariably encountered terrible crises.

At sea, bizarre creatures such as fishmen or krakens might pop up without any plausible reason.

But Ivan was a practical man. He had no desire to be treated as a demon mole or a prophet, and possessed enough sense not to impose his "common sense" on others.

After giving Enrique a perfunctory send-off, he sat down and let out a deep sigh.

Finally, he could get some rest.

To soothe his mind and body, he took out his axe and began lovingly polishing it with an oiled cloth.

* * *

While Ivan spent some intimate quality time with his comfort axe, Esidisi was secretly meeting her uncle, who was doing volunteer work at the orphanage, to gather intelligence.

'He shared a room with Professor Enrique for three days...?!'

Esidisi wasn't sure she could bring herself to pass this shocking information on to her longtime friend. Professor Enrique was her father's friend, a member of the Hero's Party!

Esidisi remembered what she looked like. At the university, she might behave like a prim and proper professor, but at heart, she was a vampire.

During her active service, the soldiers who had fallen for her across an entire front had been beyond counting. A beauty of intoxicating allure—Esidisi had secretly admired the Enrique of those days...

To be frank, the moment Enrique entered the comparison, Isabelle's chances became vanishingly small. Apart from being younger, how could she possibly beat a hero of the Hero's Party?

Esidisi sniffled at the thought of her friend's tragic love.

Her innocent heart crumbled amid the adults' sordid romantic games (they weren't).

'Bella mustn't find out...'

Esidisi was not bold enough to calmly reveal that the man who had actively seduced her friend (he hadn't) was actually a dreadful womanizer (a misunderstanding) who regularly had a physical relationship with a university professor (he didn't).

Clutching Fiddle III (violin, one month old), she made a vow.

She would deal with that man herself.

A warrior of Droan did not hesitate to bloody their hands for friends and brothers.

And she was the daughter of Droan's greatest warrior, Great King Einar. On her father's honor, she firmly resolved to become a righteous warrior sworn to punish that wicked villain.