30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

45 – 9. In Academy Field Training, an Assault Always Occurs. (9)

*

The field practice of the Journalism Department at Yansk University was targeted by the demons. When this information reached the reconnaissance headquarters, Dmitry chuckled and said,

“Discipline that guy.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel.”

The reconnaissance headquarters paid careful attention to university events as well. Naturally, safety measures for field practice were meticulously prepared.

The Crown Prince? Well, he has been quiet since the last incident.

Foreign anti-government groups? Crippled fools with no limbs, what can they do?

And demons? Would they have the resources to deploy operational forces near Frechenkaya after the recent incident?

Therefore, based on objective evidence and reasonable inference, Dmitry considered Yansk University to have no threat.

What kind of scum plants a terrorist organization in the capital to disrupt a university event?

They should be busy blowing up the royal palace at that time.

Moreover, Enrique personally leading the practical training? hahahaha, they are lacking. Are they really getting paid regularly for such things?

As a result, when the third informant shared the same story, Dmitri chuckled and washed his face.

“…Impose disciplinary action on me.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel.”

He sighed.

He grabbed his coat and left the headquarters. He had to meet the senior. Being present at the site must mean he knew something.

*

“You know, Essie.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“We haven’t even started talking yet.”

“I’m hearing it for the fourth time now.”

Essydis was looking at Isabelle with a serious face.

When news of the recent on-site training terror spread throughout the university, she had rushed to find her long-time, and almost only, friend.

But when she arrived at her place, there was no trace of the victims caught in the terror.

Beside six broken wooden training swords, Isabelle was smashing a scarecrow with a new one.

The scarecrow, with meticulous details in its beard to the point of suspicion, crumbled to the ground under Isabelle’s blow.

“But listen. I feel like I’m really going crazy and confused.”

“…Yeah.”

“So, this is about a friend.”

Essydis barely stopped herself before the harsh fact came out: “You don’t have any friends other than me.”

She is such a kind and delicate vocal music student.

“A man who appears whenever things get dangerous, saves me, takes care of things, and personally meets to share secret talks.”

“That’s a very specific assumption….”

“Then, could there be any reason other than that he likes my friend? Can there be any other reason?”

Maximilian was practically a plant. Politically and economically. Disappearing for four years is essentially equivalent to being declared dead in South Korea, for reasons similar to dealing with the dead.

So, Isabelle’s unofficial foster home is established. Her mother was a commoner, so apart from the favors provided by Tilles Palace, she had no special social or economic background.

It would be unfair for a real orphan to hear, but Isabelle truly believed in it.

“That’s… true?”

From Essydis’s perspective, Isabelle is economically vulnerable. (Isabelle has a two-story house attached to the yard.)

Essydis is a princess of a country, Eynar’s eldest daughter and his most cherished child. She was a wealthy person who wouldn’t feel a thing if she hit a thief’s head with an instrument worth a house.

Therefore, their conversation displayed a peculiar alignment of understanding.

“Honestly, there’s nothing to gain by approaching Isabelle. Isn’t that just spinning wheels?”

When their conclusion settled, Isabelle pounded her chest in frustration.

“But why do you always say no whenever I suggest grabbing a bite?”

“Talking about your friend, right?”

“No, listen. A girl who’s ten, cute, kind, excels in studies and skills, full of life. You claim to like her, so why push her away?”

“Seems like you value that friend as much as yourself…”

When an inexplicable conclusion arises, people begin to interpret the situation in the direction they want to believe.

Confirmation bias is truly frightening.

In the end, Edith nodded.

“I’ll look into it. Our uncle mentioned being close with that man. You never know. He might be the kind of person who flirts around with everyone.”

Was it true? Isabelle, pondering, pictured Ivan’s face coolly. Flirting? Juggling women here and there?

Hmm. Considering from a certain perspective, it could be possible… Could it really be? Yeah, it seems plausible.

Isabelle was thrown into confusion!

Sadly, the one who could appropriately restrain them was currently lying in the theology department’s infirmary, so there was no one here to explain to the mad axe-wielder that meeting a woman would result in ten more deaths.

*

Ivan’s days were hectic. Managing the orphanage, going to university to oversee the trees, guarding the young recruits, sorting out reports and the orphanage’s accounting, only then could he take a break.

His relaxation usually involved maintaining his sergeant’s equipment. Sharpening blades until the feathers could be silently cut, disassembling firearms for cleaning, then leaning back on the couch for a brief nap.

That was Ivan’s day.

The crucial part? It had become past tense. Since the recent practical terrorism incident, Enrique had occupied his cherished spot and was staging a sit-in.

“Enrique, it’s time to go back home.”

“What are you saying? You promised. No backtracking, huh? No betraying camaraderie?”

“…Just don’t feel like going to work?”

“Master, you’re sad. Little Ivan always believed whatever I said. Give me back my Ivan.”

Ever since the practical terrorism incident, Enrique had secluded himself in the orphanage office.

Being the culprit who inadvertently entangled around 50 noble recruits in the terrorist incident, he was being sought from all directions to answer for it.

“I feel wronged. No, would you even know? If a kid anticipates dwarves suddenly rushing in, you should torture that brat for anticipating it. Idiot.”

“I see.”

In an instant, Ivan, turned into a demon cobbler, nodded silently.

“That’s right! And, huh? You’re just trying to pass the buck to me because you don’t want to take responsibility. You’re not acting like an adult.”

“I don’t want to take responsibility like a reluctant adult.

Ivan thought to himself that even if he were to live for more than a century, he didn’t want to grow old in that manner.

“So, I was thinking, um. What if I announce taking responsibility and retire? No matter how much I ponder, it feels like I’ve lived too earnestly. Isn’t it time for a break, even just a little?”

“Hmm.”

“How about a trip? What do you think about the sea? I don’t like mountains.”

“Why does it sound like I’m going with you?”

“Well, because you are?”

Being a pragmatic person, Ivan had no intention of entertaining the idle chatter of an elderly person from a century ago.

He interrupted Enrique, taking Enrique’s teacup, and said, “In any case, even the university won’t hold you accountable for anything significant. It was purely an accident, as it were.”

“T-that’s true?”

“Yeah. Besides, the responsibility lies with the intelligence headquarters. Isn’t preventing the infiltration of hostile forces their job?”

“That’s… not true!”

Enrique stood up applauding. It seemed she simply wanted some reassurance, unable to grasp something so straightforward.

Ivan respected the elderly. Unlike this uncivilized world, South Korea had established Confucian principles of ethics, morality, social norms, and the tradition of filial piety (though it’s a subject of controversy).

He was this polite.

“So, it’s time for you to go now. I have plenty to do too.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry for taking up your busy time, sir!”

“Don’t worry.”

The St. Basilica Orphanage was his masterpiece, built by pouring in all the connections and assets he had cultivated throughout his life.

Ivan, who had no plans to turn this place into a nursing home for vampire seniors, ushered Enrique, who was wearing a wounded expression, out of the director’s office.

“Oh, right. I wasn’t kidding about going to the sea. Since things have turned out this way, experiential learning, perhaps? Shall we give that another go? After all, I’ve been subtly poking around in the royal court.”

“The royal court?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Why, Krasilov’s tourism industry is a bit lacking. University students are all from noble families, and they’ll be big shots in the future. Maybe some early promotion wouldn’t hurt. It’s like a national project!”

“…It might be better to give up.”

It’s an understandable sentiment but a very foolish choice.

Academic group tours invariably end up encountering terrible crises.

In the sea, peculiar beings like merfolk or krakens might inexplicably emerge.

But Ivan was a practical person. He didn’t have the desire to be treated like a demonic oracle or a seer, so he had enough finesse not to impose his ‘common sense’ on others.

After roughly bidding farewell to departing Enrique, he sat down and let out a deep sigh.

Now, I’ll take a little break.

He took out the axe for mental relaxation, and began to meticulously wipe it with an oil-soaked cloth.

*

As Izbella spent quiet moments with her cherished axe, she secretly approached her uncle, who was volunteering at an orphanage, to gather intelligence.

‘Professor Enrique shared the same room for three days…?!’

From Noble mtl dot com

Izbella couldn’t bring herself to share this shocking information with her long-time friend. Professor Enrique, her father’s friend, wasn’t he a member of the heroic party of warriors!

She remembered her from the active duty days. Quietly attending classes like a professor in college, her essence was that of a vampire.

The soldiers who fell for her during her active duty were countless across the front lines. A bewitching beauty with overwhelming magic, she secretly admired Enrique during those days…

To be honest, compared to Enrique, Isabella’s chances seemed too slim. Apart from being young, how could she possibly compete with a hero of the warrior party?

Thinking of her friend’s sad love, Izbella couldn’t help but sob.

Her pure heart crumbled in the midst of the adults’ vile love games (No, not really).

‘I have to keep Bella in the dark…’

Izbella wasn’t bold enough to calmly reveal the fact that the person actively pursuing her friend (No, not really) regularly engaged in physical relationships with a university professor. It was a dreadful misunderstanding.

She swore, holding tightly to little Kang Kang (the violin, 1 month).

Handle that man within her own boundaries.

Droan’s warrior didn’t hesitate to stain his hands with blood for the sake of friends and family.

And she was Droan’s finest warrior, the daughter of King Ainar, sworn to uphold her father’s honor and dedicated to becoming a just warrior sworn to eliminate cunning enemies.

*