Chapter 18
Although most students never stop to think about it, a university's staff consists of far more than just professors and teaching assistants.
For example, security guards are responsible for campus safety and patrols.
Administrative assistants handle the university's clerical work.
Just as you rarely notice the employees cleaning the cafeteria while you're eating, there are people who appear and disappear from the edges of your vision unless you consciously pay attention to them.
Gardeners are no different.
That was precisely why Elizaveta had arranged for Ivan to become one.
Unlike professors or teaching assistants, it was not a conspicuous position. It was the sort of unremarkable post where no one questioned your presence, no matter where you happened to be.
More importantly, it was a position with no fixed duties.
After all, you only need a gardener if there's a garden.
And Yansk University didn't have one.
“Hmm.”
Naturally.
Why would a university built in the heart of the capital waste valuable land on gardens or flower beds?
As a result, even if the princess personally created the position for him, no one would find it suspicious.
If Ivan had truly been someone important—or if Elizaveta intended to conduct some major operation within the university—she would surely have assigned him to a more influential position.
The Crown Prince's faction would probably assume that one of Elizaveta's subordinates had quietly secured a job for an acquaintance.
This sort of thing amounted to nothing more than the kingdom's commonplace practice of handing cushy government jobs to friends so they could collect salaries without doing much work.
(It wasn't even illegal. In the House of Nobles, this level of corruption was practically considered proof of integrity.)
“Just as I thought.”
That was why the gardener at Yansk University had plenty of free time.
Enough to enjoy hobbies.
At the moment, the Yansk University gardener's hobby happened to be bomb disposal.
I've already accounted for the security patrol routes, the flow of people across campus, and the lines of sight from every building...
These people are professionals.
As Ivan removed the third explosive device, his eyes narrowed.
They were crude, homemade mana bombs.
Precisely because they were so crude, they offered no clues that could identify the perpetrators.
Ivan had been able to locate the bombs for a simple reason.
First, because an attack during an academy entrance ceremony was practically common sense.
Second, because with a warship floating overhead and the Counterintelligence Command at its highest state of alert, any organization capable of attacking the academy had to be made up of professionals.
Working backward from that assumption allowed him to predict exactly where the bombs would be planted.
Places hidden from the guards.
Dark corners unlikely to be discovered by civilians.
Blind spots that couldn't be seen from the surrounding buildings.
Search the overlap between those conditions, and you'd find a bomb.
At this point, it wasn't much different from harvesting potatoes.
Figure out the location, stroll over without a care, pick it up, and move on.
“Now the only question is who planted them.”
That was the real problem.
Far too many suspects came to mind.
The demons.
The least likely possibility.
Which ironically made them suspicious.
They certainly had sufficient motive to attack Yansk University.
At the same time, unless they were complete idiots, they wouldn't attempt another operation immediately after their previous failure.
The elves.
Also suspicious.
But their motive was weak.
Their warship was still hovering directly above Yansk University, making them the group best positioned to carry out such an attack.
Yet even if the elves embarrassed Krasilov by staging an incident like this, the benefits they'd gain were negligible.
The Crown Prince's faction.
Most likely the prime suspects.
They possessed both the means and the motive to attack Yansk University.
But today would have been difficult.
The Counterintelligence Command, having incurred Elizaveta's full wrath, was guarding the surrounding area with extreme vigilance.
In other words...
There were simply too many plausible suspects.
Which meant that an unknown organization had successfully infiltrated the academy with an exceptionally capable operative.
A perfectly ordinary academy story.
Oddly enough, Ivan found that reassuring.
Right.
An academy wasn't truly an academy unless terrorists attacked during the entrance ceremony and secret operatives infiltrated the campus.
He had already been starting to worry because none of this year's freshmen seemed to include anyone who constantly drew swords, introduced themselves as the Heavenly Demon, ran around performing exaggerated pump-action motions with a blade of grass hanging from their mouth like some cowboy, or an unusually foul-mouthed little girl who specialized as a tank.
Shaking his head with a wry smile, Ivan headed toward the next location where he expected to find an explosive.
Then—
He heard something strange.
Very faintly.
“What the heck is that? Santa Claus?”
Ivan's eyes sharpened.
Without showing the slightest reaction, he casually bent down.
There was a pebble lying on the ground.
As naturally as if he were tying his shoelaces, he picked it up and threw it toward the source of the voice.
Clang!
Something deflected the pebble.
At the very same instant, Ivan shot forward like a bolt of lightning.
Straight toward the sound.
Tap! Tap-tap!
Rapid footsteps echoed ahead.
But in the end, Ivan came to a stop.
The person had vanished without leaving a trace.
Gone beyond the university grounds and into the massive crowd gathered outside, waiting for the entrance ceremony to end.
“Santa Claus...”
Ivan let out a dry chuckle and turned back.
When he retraced his steps, he soon found the pebble.
It had been cleanly split in half.
He methodically broke the information apart and reassembled it.
Swordsmanship.
A young male... or female. If male, then at least young enough that his voice hasn't broken yet.
The voice was too faint to identify. I'll need to hear it another couple of times before I can be certain.
Height... unknown.
Excellent agility. Exceptional reflexes.
Most likely danger perception.
That's an ability difficult for an ordinary student to possess...
Which makes it all the more likely that the person is a student.
Changing direction, Ivan headed back into the campus.
Toward the most dangerous place in Yansk University.
Toward the grand auditorium, where Elizaveta was attending the entrance ceremony.
And, inevitably, toward the nearby field command center established by the Counterintelligence Command.
“Santa... Claus.”
There was no folk legend called Santa Claus in this world.
Naturally, there was no Christmas either.
There was no kindly old man in red who delivered candy and toys in stockings.
That was why Ivan had reacted so sharply to what otherwise sounded like an insignificant mutter.
Which meant...
Which meant...
“A transmigrator.”
Had this person also written a 5,700-word review essay of appreciation?
Or was it simply the result of some bizarre coincidence?
Hit by a truck?
No, diving into the Han River was far too outdated a cliché.
Of course, this person could even be the original author.
That happened often enough.
By what chance...
By what method...
Had they fallen into this world?
But one thing Ivan could say with absolute certainty—
This person knew that this game was an academy story.
That was the only reason a transmigrator would deliberately enroll in—or seek employment at—the university.
If that was true...
Then this person...
He knows the original story.
He knows what will happen next.
He knows the ending.
“Hey, wait! Stop right there! This area is restricted!”
“Call Dmitri.”
“What? Who the hell told you that you could—”
Crack!
Ivan twisted the arm of the uniformed soldier blocking his path.
The instant the man reacted by drawing a pistol from his sleeve, Ivan smoothly turned the slide and dismantled it in one fluid motion.
The soldier stared blankly at the pistol grip still left in his hand.
The next moment—
Click. Click.
Gun barrels appeared from every direction in an instant.
Five.
Well-trained.
Their disguises were excellent, too.
The five soldiers surrounding him were all dressed differently, blending perfectly into the crowd as ordinary civilians.
After giving the men around him a quick glance, Ivan took a deep breath.
Then slowly let it out.
Anger stirred within him.
Impatience was steadily burning away what remained of his self-control.
“Call Dmitri.”
“Do you know the lieutenant colonel, sir? Let's not cause a scene here. If you'll come somewhere more private—”
“Ivan.”
“…Yes?”
“My name is Ivan Petrovich. Former Extermination Unit. Is anyone here from it?”
“I was the last graduating class, Senior. If you'll excuse me... may I verify your face...?”
The soldier whom Ivan had forced to his knees cautiously looked up.
He slowly lowered the pistol grip he was still holding and spread both hands open.
For a long moment, he examined Ivan's face with a bewildered expression before quietly raising one hand to cover the area beneath Ivan's nose.
“My God...
The real... 'Little' Ivan...?”
As he examined Ivan's eyes, nose, and forehead, cold sweat rolled down the soldier's face.
He hurriedly gestured for the surrounding soldiers to stand down before bowing respectfully.
“Lieutenant Colonel Petrovich. It is an honor to meet you.”
“Your name?”
“Osip Sorenov. You probably don't remember me. I was with the Third Strike Team. I only ever saw you once... from a very great distance.”
“I remember now.
Osip.”
Ivan released the soldier's arm and stepped back.
Osip dusted off his knees, stood up, and respectfully extended his hand.
Ivan accepted it, and the two exchanged a firm handshake.
“Do not mourn those who departed before us.”
“For I now stand in the same ranks as they do.”
“I heard you had fallen in battle, Lieutenant Colonel. I distinctly remember seeing your memorial at the National Cemetery...”
“And I never imagined there would be any survivors from the Third Strike Team.”
“We survived in place of men far greater than ourselves.”
“All of us did.”
The final mission assigned to every Strike Team of the Extermination Unit had been the assassination of the Seven Dragon Generals.
Therefore, aside from Ivan's team—the only one known to have returned alive—if any other survivors existed...
They were merely the men whose lives had been bought by the sacrifices of those greater than themselves.
Ivan patted Osip's shoulder twice before speaking again.
“Bring Dmitri.
And tell him I'll need the complete roster of incoming students... no, every enrolled student, along with the full list of faculty and staff.
The attendees at the entrance ceremony.
The VIPs.
Their families.
Their acquaintances.
Their relatives.
I need the names of everyone who currently has access to Yansk University.”
“Yes, Lieutenant Colonel! Hey! Inform Lieutenant Colonel Cherkatov! Tell him we've got an emergency!”
The agents, who had still been standing there in confusion, hurriedly rushed off.
Looking toward the grand auditorium, where the entrance ceremony was still underway, Ivan slowly exhaled.
A transmigrator.
Was it a Korean?
No...
It didn't matter.
It meant they were from Earth.
Someone from his homeland.
Sadly...
That was exactly what they were.
A bitter feeling welled up inside him.
For Kim Sunwoo.
For Ivan.
Because...
He would have to kill them.
He needed information about the ending.
He had to eliminate every variable that could alter that ending.
And, above all else—
“I'm not some NPC.”
Ivan closed his eyes.
I'm not some NPC.
My memories, my experiences, my career... they're not just the prologue.
I'm not an NPC.
My life isn't some passing background story.
I... I...
I have to survive.
I have to return home.
Which means...
There are far more reasons to kill you than there are to let you live.
Before I hear that, in your damned "original story," someone named Ivan Petrovich even exists.
Before it's too late.
No matter what.
“Haah... Haaah... What the hell was that lunatic...?!
A hostile monster?!
No, damn it! Nobody told me monsters like that existed! Damn it... Damn it! Where did everything start going wrong?!”
As he wiped away the cold sweat and struggled to catch his breath, a familiar voice suddenly reached his ears.
It was his father.
“So you've returned.
Where have you been?”
“Father...”
“Sit down.
You disappear long enough to visit the restroom, and all this commotion breaks out.
You're still as hopeless as ever.”
This damned good-for-nothing youngest son.
Wasn't being a "good-for-nothing" supposed to mean waking up in a classic fantasy where everyone immediately pampered you?
He was supposed to stop the Academy Attack, turn things around in spectacular fashion, and begin changing everyone's opinion of him!
Instead—
The quest had suddenly been canceled.
["D-Rank Quest" – Stop the Academy Attack – CANCELED]
The academy is under attack by an unidentified group! Stop the assault on the grand auditorium and the academic buildings during the entrance ceremony!
Objective: Remove the bombs on campus 3/3 (Completed)
Optional Objective: Eliminate the intruders – CANCELED
Optional Objective: Protect the freshmen 0/322 – CANCELED
Reward: – CANCELED
“Damn it.”
He had just lost one of the most important early-game quests.
Wasn't the Academy Attack supposed to be the protagonist's grand debut?
The perfect opportunity to leave a lasting impression on the heroines, meet future companions, and earn the instructors' admiration...
When the quest suddenly canceled itself, he'd panicked and rushed over—
Only to run into a bizarre bearded man who looked like Santa Claus.
And now what the hell was this?
["??22-Rank Quest" – The Gardener of St. Yansk University]
You have caught his attention. Good luck.
Objective: Eliminate the gardener of St. Yansk University, Ivan Petrovich.
Optional Objective: Recruit Ivan Petrovich.
Optional Objective: Conceal information.
Additional Objective: Survive.
Failure Penalty: Death.