Chapter 22

The Status Window Opened on My First Day of School (6)

Maximilien had been a transmigrator.

And apparently, there had been others.

Setting aside the fact that Ivan had never heard anything like this before, what had happened to them?

The Hero had disappeared.

He had secluded himself somewhere deep in the mountains of Thales.

Abandoning his wife and daughter.

No one had been able to understand why.

But Ivan felt as though he could.

That was...

That was...

Did he... go back...?

Ivan lowered his head, his face turning pale.

Could they return?

Had killing the Demon King been the condition?

Then what about him?

What was his condition...?

Slap!

His vision flashed white as his head snapped to the side.

The pain came a moment later.

Feeling the sting spreading across his cheek, Ivan turned his gaze.

Enrique was looking at him with sorrowful eyes.

"Pull yourself together. I'm not finished talking."

"...Enrique."

"Yes. You recognize me. Good."

Enrique sank deeply into the sofa and sighed.

This man lacked sleep.

No.

He lacked rest.

Only now did she understand why.

This was not simply a mental illness caused by war.

He was disconnected from reality.

He recognized this place as reality, while simultaneously wishing that it were not.

That was why he had never been able to rest.

For all those long years, completely alone.

Every night, he must have chewed on his loneliness.

Every day, he must have suffered beneath the contradiction.

Transmigrators.

Wanderers who had been dragged here from other worlds.

Enrique pitied their kind.

Especially this taciturn, twisted madman before her.

She looked directly at her disciple and slowly began to speak.

"They say each of them arrived carrying a story of their own. Very few records remain, but that was true in most cases. For some, it was a story. For others, a legend or myth. Sometimes it was a novel, occasionally a play, and there were even cases where they described entirely different things."

"...They were all different?"

"Yes. In other words, each of them had their own story."

There was no common thread connecting the stories that had led them here.

But every one of them had believed that they had fallen into a story they once admired.

No one knew what caused it or how it happened.

"What kind of endings did they... the transmigrators... meet?"

That was the most important question Ivan carried.

What ending awaited him?

"Some disappeared again. Some died. Others remained."

"What about the Hero? Maximilien?"

"As you know, he went into seclusion. Who knows? Maybe he returned in the meantime, or perhaps he had some other reason. It's not as though we can visit him and ask. There's no way to meet him."

Ivan lowered his head, overcome with dizziness.

Different stories.

Different endings.

What would his ending be?

Would he remain frozen inside this world forever?

Was there truly no way back?

He wanted to believe death was not the only possible ending.

Bang!

Enrique struck the desk roughly.

When Ivan raised his head, she was staring at him with sorrowful eyes.

"Then what are we to you?"

"...What?"

"Are we nothing more than minor characters in a novel from your world? As you put it, are we merely 'characters' consumed as words on a page?"

"That..."

"No. Of course not. How could that possibly be true?"

Suppose ten thousand stories were woven together into one world, and ten thousand protagonists lived within it.

Did that mean each protagonist had to see every other protagonist as a supporting character?

No.

That was not true.

They were all simply the protagonists of their own stories.

In that case...

"Do you truly think your world and this world are fundamentally different? That your world is reality, while this one is merely a fragment of a story? No. I am alive. I breathe. I hate sunlight. I hate blessings. I drink blood, enjoy tea, and live my life. Just like you."

"Enrique..."

"You're afraid you might be nothing more than someone else's supporting character? Don't make me laugh! You are the lead of your own life, and I am the entirety of mine!"

Her eyes burned fiercely, as though they might devour Ivan whole.

Ivan quietly stared at her face.

"You hope you're not a supporting character? Then how have you thought of us? What did you think of me, Ivan? Little Ivan. Did you live believing the late king you respected was nothing more than a supporting character in some story? Even while telling others not to mourn those who had gone ahead, were you secretly laughing at us?"

"No. I would never—"

"Then live. Live your story and bring it to its conclusion. The ending of that story is not something fate or the world gets to decide. That is for you to determine."

Every story had its own ending.

But the path toward that ending was not necessarily decided by fate.

Even though the journey of the Hero's Party had become legend, each member had never merely been a hero inside a legend.

They were individuals who still lived and breathed.

Enrique gripped Ivan's hand tightly and looked at him with unwavering eyes.

"Do you want to go back? To your homeland?"

"...Yes."

"Then don't wait for fate to end your story, disciple. Turn the pages yourself. All the way to the end. To your conclusion."

"Will there be anything left for me to decide at the end?"

"The choice to turn the page belongs entirely to you. Just as it does to everyone else. To every person in this world and yours."

The Hero, Maximilien, had always smiled.

Always smiling, he had taken one more step forward.

Remembering that era, when hope had been painfully scarce, Enrique quietly reflected.

He had missed his homeland.

He had missed the lover and parents waiting there.

Whenever he spoke of his comfortable life and the wondrous civilization of his world, Enrique had pitied him.

A poor castaway.

A wanderer between dimensions.

An outsider.

And yet the Hero had smiled.

He had said that being ordinary meant the same thing in both his world and theirs.

Therefore, he was neither a castaway nor an outsider.

He was simply an ordinary man.

Bearing countless burdens upon his shoulders, he took another step forward.

Then another, pursuing the things he believed should have been natural.

Step by step, he walked toward the darkest hell on a continent where all hope had vanished.

For those without the courage to move ahead, he willingly became a lighthouse.

And took another step.

His courage had rested within the ordinary values he believed in.

That was why he had become the Hero.

Not because of privilege, talent, or qualifications.

He had simply continued pursuing the ordinary life he believed in.

Whenever people called that extraordinary, he would smile.

He would say that he was merely doing in their place what any of them could have done.

"If only I'd met you a little sooner... If only I'd listened more seriously when you spoke about your story, perhaps you wouldn't have ended up like this. I'm sorry, disciple."

"Enrique..."

"I'll stand watch. Get some sleep."

"Stand watch?"

"I can tell from your condition. You couldn't feel safe anywhere, so you were never able to properly sleep. At least four years. Perhaps even longer. Maybe for as long as you've lived here."

There was no bedroom anywhere in this office.

Every time, he must have merely lain down at that desk or on that sofa and dozed lightly.

Worrying that the protagonist of this world might suddenly erase a supporting character.

Worrying that the story might end while he was unable to do anything.

Tormenting himself with such worthless fears.

He had treated others as supporting characters, while stubbornly insisting that he himself must not be one.

And yet, at the same time, he had never believed himself capable of being the protagonist.

"If necessary, I'll stand watch every night."

Ivan did not refuse.

He was far too exhausted.

Kim Sunwoo quietly closed his eyes.

He had judged wrongly.

This world was neither a strategy simulation nor a traditional RPG.

It may have been someone else's story.

But it had never been his.

He was not a soldier in a strategy game.

Nor was he merely a scout attached to the Hero's Party.

The story of Ivan Petrovich—of Kim Sunwoo—had not even opened its first chapter.

Thirty years had passed within the prologue.

Now, at last, the introduction was over.

The name of this story was not a genre.

It was life.

Perhaps it really was an academy story.

Reflecting on his situation, Ivan let out a faint chuckle.

The thought no longer made him angry.

He was too worn out.

Too tired.

And the hand gently patting his shoulder was warm.

He felt safe.

***

He had been sixteen.

It had been two years since he first began fighting on the battlefield.

Kim Sunwoo rolled across the ground with his teeth clenched.

The sword issued to him had broken.

He had run out of ammunition, and the demons had finally broken through the defensive line.

When his sword broke, he clawed through the ground for a spear.

When the spear shaft snapped, he struck with a shield.

He seized an axe.

He swung a greatsword.

And he endured.

Even he had never imagined he could fight like this.

He was far more gifted at physical combat than he had expected.

He also did not tire easily.

Of course, at the moment, it was likely the violent rush of adrenaline that kept him from noticing his exhaustion.

Considering his physical ability, he should already have collapsed.

Yet Ivan continued rolling across the ground.

He grabbed swords.

Raised spears.

Swung axes.

And shoved enemies back with shields.

He had no idea how much time passed.

His body could still move.

His vision remained clear.

The only sounds he could hear were his own breathing and the pounding of his heart, which seemed ready to burst.

His nose had long since forgotten every scent except blood.

He simply blocked whatever approached.

Pushed it back.

Struck it down.

And survived.

At some point, silence fell.

Only then did Kim Sunwoo notice the enormous shadow covering him.

"You fought well."

A deep voice rang out above him.

When he shifted his gaze, he saw a military standard.

The standard of Krasilov.

They're allies.

Kim Sunwoo lowered his shoulders and bowed his head.

The man was mounted, so he was clearly someone important.

And since he stood beneath the standard, he was likely the commander.

"What is your name?"

"Ivan Petrovich, Commander."

"Your age?"

"Sixteen."

"Your position?"

"Conscript."

The man's face was hidden because the sun was behind him.

Bathed in sunlight like a halo, his figure was dazzling.

"Turn around."

Following the commander's order, Ivan turned his back.

He assumed he was being ordered to return to the main force.

Instead, countless corpses came into view, so numerous that the ground itself could barely be seen.

Human and demon bodies alike.

Just as Kim Sunwoo began to frown, the man's gently admonishing voice reached him.

"Raise your eyes. Look at those still standing."

Only then did Ivan notice the others.

Not the corpses.

The people.

Survivors.

The wounded.

Those barely standing while leaning upon broken spears.

Those trembling, yet somehow still alive.

"This front was originally expected to fall. We had to commit our forces elsewhere."

"Your Majesty!"

An attendant behind the commander screamed at his words.

The enormous man continued without concern.

"And yet they survived. Ivan Petrovich, look at those you saved. Hold your head high. You saved them. You saved the villages behind them. You saved their families somewhere far away, and every resident of those villages."

The commander leaped down from his horse and stroked Ivan's head.

His hand was enormous.

"So hold your head high, 'Little' Ivan."

"...I'm not little."

He was taller than the average man of that era.

Even the officers responsible for maintaining discipline had mistaken him for an adult.

"When I fought like you at your age, I earned the name 'Ivan the Great.' Surely you wouldn't dare be known by the same name as me?"

"Your Majesty...!"

The attendant shrieked again.

The large-handed man patted Ivan's back once before climbing onto his horse.

"Treat that boy and educate him."

"Do you intend to take him into your service?"

"I'd sooner raise a lion in a zoo. Simply give him a place. If he rises high enough to stand on his own, we will surely meet again."

Ivan met that man again five years later.

After those five years, he joined the Royal Guard.

From then on, he became known as Little Ivan.

It was an exceedingly honorable title.

Ivan did not have a nightmare that night.

The late king looked just as magnificent as Ivan remembered.

And so, Ivan was able to sleep deeply.

***

[“???-Rank Quest: Gardener of Saint Yansk University”—Cancelled]

[Miraculous fortune has stopped your die. You have survived.]

[Objective: Kill Ivan Petrovich, Gardener of Saint Yansk University—Cancelled]

[Optional Objective: Persuade Ivan Petrovich—Cancelled]

[Optional Objective: Conceal Information—Cancelled]

[Additional Objective: Survive—Cancelled]

[Failure Penalty: Death—Cancelled]

"What the hell? What is this supposed to mean?! At least explain something!"

Yevgeny—Eugene—screamed as he glared at the blue display.

Naturally, the damned status window gave him no answer.