WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 2: The Retired Soldier Wants to Rest.

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Ivan had been waiting peacefully for nothing but the ending, dreaming only of escaping this tiresome otherworld and cracking open a cold canned beer while demolishing dried pollack.

Only now did he realize that everything he had experienced was nothing more than background setting.

And this game’s genre was neither a strategy simulation where he had to fend off a fierce war against the Demon King’s army,

nor a traditional Hero RPG where one formed a party and brought down the Demon King’s tyranny.

It was, of all things, an academy story.

That was Ivan’s thirtieth year after transmigration.

Ep. 2. The Retired Soldier Wants to Rest.

Saint Basilisha Orphanage was one of the wealthiest orphanages in the kingdom.

For an orphanage to become wealthy, it generally needed a few things.

It needed a good location, within the capital’s administrative sphere.

Or it needed the political symbolism of being the first orphanage for war orphans when a kingdom devastated by war began rebuilding.

If its director had built connections among influential figures and high-ranking nobles, along with meeting several other such conditions, then, astonishingly, it could become the contradiction known as a wealthy orphanage.

Saint Basilisha Orphanage met every one of those conditions.

“Hmm.”

Ivan rubbed the goosebumps rising on his forearm and frowned.

If his long years of military service had taught him anything, it was that a feeling something bad was about to happen should never be ignored.

“Kids, scatter some salt.”

“Okay!”

The children giggled and ran off. Watching them go, he let out a deep sigh.

It had already been four years since the Demon King died, yet the game still had not ended. Wasn’t there a problem if the epilogue was this long?

Was there another condition? The ending condition couldn’t be something like, “The Hero dies of old age,” could it? He wanted to go home sooner than that.

Around then, Ivan had been painstakingly digging through fading memories and writing a list titled Things to Eat When I Return to Earth.

Desperately, like a sergeant waiting for the day of his discharge.

Canned beer, dried pollack, Honey Butter Chips, nachos with cheese sauce, tuna mayo, kimchi stew.

Ah, damn it. He needed to underline kimchi stew three more times. It had been thirty years since he had last eaten kimchi. He could not leave out braised kimchi or stir-fried kimchi, either.

And every kind of alcohol besides vodka and wine. If possible, he wanted something from East Asia.

After living among monsters who stuffed themselves with cucumber pickles and pickled mushrooms as drinking snacks, he had even started missing puffed rice snacks.

“Hoo...”

Ivan took a listless step, then suddenly stopped.

There was a presence inside his office, where no one should have been. An adult’s presence, and that of a well-trained soldier.

His previously drooping eyes sharpened. Then he began walking forward cautiously. This time, he did not muffle his footsteps. He made them sound as natural as possible.

Thud. Thud.

As though he had sensed nothing at all, he walked straight toward the wooden door bearing the plaque that read Director’s Office, emphasizing how defenseless he was.

‘One person.’

His senses had already crossed into the realm of animals. Anyone who spent years being run ragged in the Annihilation Unit could perform tricks like this.

The presence beyond the wooden door stiffened. Ivan slowly brought a hand to his waist and bent slightly at the hips, gauging the other person’s position.

Even if the moment he opened the door, the other person fired a crossbow, it would miss his head. An old habit.

“It’s been a long time, Senior!”

The unfamiliar visitor called out brightly the instant Ivan turned the handle. It was a declaration that they had no intention of attacking. Ivan recognized the voice at once and relaxed his shoulders.

When he opened the door fully, a uniformed soldier in neat attire waved at him.

“You’ve been well, right? Ah, I should have come to see you more often!”

“You should’ve come through the front gate.”

“Come on, when have we ever worked that way?”

The soldier chuckled and stepped back. His gaze briefly passed over Ivan’s waist and sleeves.

“Business.”

“So impatient! First, we should have tea and catch up on old times. We need that kind of time together!”

Even as he said that, he drew a small letter from his chest.

With a white-gloved hand, he slowly and very carefully placed it on the table.

Fine paper. A high-quality wax seal.

Pressed firmly into it was a chrysanthemum-shaped stamp.

The instant Ivan saw it, he instinctively stepped back from the table.

“Uh, is that lèse-majesté?”

“Why would Colonel Kirillovna be looking for me...?”

“She’s the Minister of the Royal Household now. She was already a brigadier general around the time you retired, Senior.”

“Then why is she looking for me? If I remember correctly, when I retired, she clearly said...”

“Yes. She told you to stay out of sight and live quietly. It’s amazing that you took her at her word and left. Her Royal Highness could not eat for three days.”

The man snickered and pushed the letter, which had been moved to the edge of the table, back toward Ivan.

“Just read it. A personal letter from Her Royal Highness would fetch whatever price you asked for at a collectors’ auction.”

“...”

As though dismantling a magical artifact on the verge of exploding, Ivan carefully reached out and gently peeled it open, making sure not to crush the wax seal.

With a crisp pop, the envelope opened smoothly. His hand froze when gold-threaded stationery appeared inside.

“What is it? Her Royal Highness might just be asking how you’ve been.”

“...Sure she is.”

Elizaveta Kirillovna Krasilov. Back when the fighting was at its fiercest, she had been more familiarly known as Iron-Blooded Liza. There was no chance that woman would send an envoy merely to ask how he was doing.

She was more likely to poison the letter itself.

Surely there was no poison on this...

“Just read it already.”

Only after hesitating once more did Ivan find the courage to open the letter.

A letter written in beautiful, precise handwriting, as straight as though typed on a typewriter, appeared before him.

[Vanka, have you been well?]

He already did not want to keep reading. Ivan swallowed dryly.

[I heard news of you from time to time. It seemed you had been doing well.

For the first few months, I was relieved.

But I have not felt that way since.

Unfortunately, I have not been doing well myself.]

Whoever had made that woman not do well was probably already paying for it.

[Do you remember when we struggled to cultivate that garden together?

I hoped we could at least have a tea party together someday, but you left without even looking back.]

When they burned down the demonfolk residential districts, established a Military Administration, and exploited the demonfolk who had supposedly become peaceful?

Of course he remembered.

[After that, I thought this for a while.

Fine. Even if Vanka is not here, there is no way the garden we worked so hard to cultivate will fall apart.

Winter has passed, and when the snow melts, the season of blooming flowers will come.

Then perhaps one day, you too might come to see the garden you made.]

Ivan muttered without realizing it.

“Me? To the palace? Why...?”

[But the seasons have turned, and winter is coming again, Vanka.

The servants, fat and lazy, no longer care for the garden.

Wildflowers can no longer grow in a garden overrun with weeds and wild beasts.

A winter colder and quieter than the last is coming.

The other day, I saw mistletoe covering dying shrubs.]

Only then did he understand the purpose of the letter.

Before reading the final paragraph, Ivan instinctively let out a long sigh.

[Vanka, the lumberjack I trust most.

If there is something you desire, I will repay you threefold.

If that is not enough compensation, I will cover the rest with our friendship.

If even that cannot settle the debt, I will pay with our memories.

The kingdom still needs your devotion.

As it always has, and as it always will.

With affection, Kirillovna.]

Only after reading the short letter several more times did he press a hand to his aching eyes and turn his head.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

For a while, he drummed his fingertips on the table and sank into thought.

“And your answer?”

“Tell me the situation first.”

“It’s bad. The Military Administration keeps whining every day for permission to withdraw, Crown Prince Alexander is itching to divide the country into five pieces and sell them off, and our Great King still sits there without saying a word.”

The man continued in a mocking tone.

“But ta-da! You remember Saint Yansk University, right? That international university they founded during the war.”

“What about it?”

“I got the list of this year’s incoming students and faculty early. Want to take a look?”

The man pulled out a notebook and handed it to Ivan.

“The Saintess joined the faculty, as a full-time professor in the Theology Department. Skip past all that, though. Look at the students. Familiar names just keep coming, don’t they?”

- Isabelle, daughter of the Hero Maximilian.

- Oscar, son of the knight Gilles Ver.

- Elphihara, daughter of the mage Beolgreen.

- Aesidis, daughter of the berserker Einar.

- Lucia, disciple of the thief Enrika.

And Saintess Patricia, who had become a professor this year.

It was a Hero Party lineup straight out of a picture.

“Our great late King abolished Saint Yansk University’s admission age limit, of all things! He said they would accept anyone, young or old, as long as they passed the entrance exam. That’s how we ended up like this!”

Saint Yansk University was one of the finest institutions in all the Allied Kingdoms.

And this damned otherworld version of a prestigious university did not consider an applicant’s age.

Whether they were very young or very old.

No matter their age, it opened its doors to anyone who could pass the brutally difficult entrance exam and interview, while also meeting requirements such as having a recommendation guarantor.

That was where the problem began.

After killing the Demon King, the Hero Party had returned to their respective homelands.

Some became nobles, others went into seclusion, but they all had one thing in common.

Every member of that party was regarded as a legendary hero in their homeland.

That meant any one of their actions could trigger an international conflict. Especially when it involved children sent abroad to study.

“Our prince is trying to sell off the country, and would you look at that? This happens right in the middle of the capital. What do you think will happen?”

If even one of them died or got hurt, this country was finished.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I made a position for you among the staff. Not as a professor or teaching assistant. You’ll be a gardener. Universities have trees lining their paths too, right?”

“...”

The man pointed at the list in his notebook and continued.

“Protect these kids for just three years, until they return to their countries without so much as a scratch. It could be shorter if they drop out.”

Ivan had figured it out by then.

Colonel Kirillovna... no, Her Royal Highness, needed an agent who was no longer on the military roster.

Using an active-duty agent would leave a trail, making it likely that the Crown Prince’s faction would find out. Yet among retired agents, there was no knowing who had already joined the Crown Prince’s faction.

But then, ta-da, there was one perfectly suitable man stationed near the capital.

A man whose loyalty needed no questioning, whose ability was already proven, who had quietly gone into seclusion after retirement without involving himself in politics, and whose location was obvious enough for them to contact him immediately.

That miraculous man was Ivan.

Ivan, who had been quietly waiting for the ending and preparing to return to Earth to bite, tear, taste, and enjoy all the beautiful foods of modern civilization, suddenly realized something astonishing.

The Demon King had died, but instead of the Hero Party reaching an ending where they lived happily ever after...

This situation, with chaotic international affairs and a grim domestic political scene in the background, while the children of the world’s prominent figures rushed to enroll in an international university that had abruptly appeared out of nowhere...

After thirty long years, a genre any Korean citizen would recognize came to mind.

“Fuck.”

“...Pardon?”

Kim Seonwoo, who had slept for so many years, suddenly woke up.

“Fuck. This was an academy story?”

“Senior...?”

The man watched Ivan with cold sweat running down his face.

Even during Ivan’s active years, it was rare to see him pouring out such furious rage.

Naturally, since the man knew him from his active years, the killing intent slowly pouring from Ivan made his body stiffen with fear.

As he sweated and wondered what on earth Ivan meant, Ivan tightly shut his eyes, desperately suppressing and calming Kim Seonwoo’s boiling anger.

“Ivan Petrovich... accepts Her Highness’s command.”

‘Let’s go home already.’

Three years.

What was three years after waiting thirty?

If he waited only three more years, surely he would see the ending.

That was how the academy gained a gardener.

* * *

Footnotes:

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