WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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Chapter 26: The Saintess and the Woodcutter (4)

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* * *

The suspiciously wealthy foreign sponsor who had visited the orphanage director's office only got to the point after making a tremendous fuss upon hearing that Ivan did not have a bedroom.

The Saintess calmly listened to Ivan's account, which Enrika gave for the most part, then took a sip of tea.

Between one and three transmigrators were at the university.

“That is strange.”

“Hmm?”

“Enrika, have you ever heard that only one or two of those brought here appear in a century?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“How many are there now?”

The Saintess set down her teacup and quietly folded her hands.

Her eyes had deepened, like those of a high priest.

“Maximilian, the Demon King, and Ivan. Three in total. There may be more elsewhere, but at most, there would be one or two I do not know about.”

“...Hmm?”

“That was over twenty years ago.”

The Demon King appeared over twenty years ago. Maximilian had arrived over twenty years ago. Ivan had arrived over twenty years ago.

Not even a generation had passed, let alone a century.

“The stories of the Demon King and Maximilian have ended. I do not know what Brother Kirilts's story may be, but I imagine its conclusion is not far off. But what if others begin appearing now?”

“Hmm? Is that a problem?”

“It is not normal. I attended Maximilian when he was one of those brought here. That is why I know all the old Church records concerning them.”

One or two in a century.

Whenever they appeared, they always rose to prominence somewhere.

As though each was determined to forge a story of their own, they did so with fervor.

After they finished the story of their age and disappeared, time passed before others were brought here to turn a new page.

Which meant that now, after the Demon King's death, when every nation had grown quiet, why would new transmigrators appear?

The few nations whose military strength remained intact after the war with the Demon King, along with the minor conflicts surrounding colonial expansion, might have been faint signs of danger.

Still, it was far too soon. The world was too devastated to face another war. No nation had enough strength left to dare wage a full-scale conflict.

Even if the Demon King reappeared, would that truly be a problem? Most of the Hero Party was still alive and well, and every nation had already prepared countermeasures against powerful individuals.

The demonfolk had scattered as a race, driven into slavery or exiled beyond the borders of civilization. Only remnants remained in distant lands. They no longer had the strength to continue a war.

“You said there were several suspects?”

“Three.”

“Their nationalities?”

“Two are from Krasilov. The other is from Kallion.”

“One elf and two humans.”

The Saintess folded her arms and sank into thought.

“You said all three are students?”

“Yes.”

“And none of them have been verified?”

“No.”

“Then we should verify them.”

The Saintess nodded far more readily than Ivan had expected. In Ivan's experience, whenever a person of faith used the word verification, nothing good followed, so he wondered if she intended to conduct an inquisition.

“Find out which of those suspects truly are among those brought here. We should also learn what stories those children were brought into. Then, would we not be able to discover what story remains for our age?”

What could transmigrators accomplish in this world after the stories of the Demon King and Maximilian had ended? What story had led them here?

The Saintess intended to piece together those fragments and prepare for the future.

Of course, this world was not the plot of a game or novel. Whatever those people had experienced in another world, fictional stories could not affect the course of this one.

People were different, though. Those who had been influenced by those stories were different. What ideas a transmigrator carried, what actions they intended to take, those things would absolutely affect this world.

Just as the Demon King, the Hero, and countless transmigrators before them had done. Transmigrators would surely create incidents, turmoil, and history.

The Saintess nodded and settled back into the sofa. Only after taking another sip of tea did she suddenly ask,

“So, Brother Kirilts. What was your story?”

“I do not know.”

“...Pardon? No, even if it was a long time ago... Did you not have some powerful sense of purpose, or a feeling of destiny, something like that...?”

There had to be at least one, surely? Most transmigrators were like that.

Ivan hesitated at the Saintess's question before speaking heavily.

“There were too many.”

“Pardon...?”

Before his death, Kim Seonwoo had left hate comments on a total of eight games, eleven webtoons, and over thirty web novels.

They had all been different genres. If he liked something, the genre did not matter.

Ivan carefully explained it. He began with the superstition in his world that criticizing an author could make someone transmigrate into their work.

As an immature Kim Seonwoo who wanted to transmigrate, he had followed that superstition and hurled sharp critiques at every kind of work... in other words, [5,700-Character Punch of Gratitude].

The moment she heard his calm recollection, Enrika looked away, and the Saintess fell silent for a while.

“Let us repent, Brother.”

The Saintess clasped Ivan's hand tightly and poured divine power into him. It was warm, warm enough to make a corner of his heart sting.

* * *

It was March, the season when flowers bloomed and spring breezes made hearts flutter.

Yevgeny, better known as Eugene, was brushing back his flowing black hair as he read the Bible. The damned scripture-reading class was approaching.

The Theology Department chapel had been made as an exact replica of a cathedral. Beneath the lush roadside trees, Eugene sat on a bench and read, making for a picturesque scene all on his own.

Eugene had set the hearts of countless novice nuns aflame, but he suddenly stopped when he noticed a sparkling notification at the edge of his vision.

“Hm?”

[Warning!]

[Warning!]

[Warning!]

“Wh-what, what is it?! What is it this time?! Don't pull this bullshit on me!”

He instinctively flinched and looked around. Nobody was there.

Again. Again. This damned Status Window was muttering things only it understood, without explaining anything at all!

As he thought that, the warning message burst open with a pop. This time, incredibly, it began to explain the situation.

“What...?”

[Warning!]

[Survival Instinct Lv. 3]

[Stand up immediately and walk forward.]

[Do not look back.]

[Act naturally.]

[Even if someone calls your name....]

No matter what, he needed to get away from there. The Status Window was so unhelpful that it might as well have been useless, but at least it never lied.

This must have been some kind of Napolitan horror story scenario. Clutching his forehead, Eugene stood and began walking as naturally as he could.

He had definitely transmigrated into [The Genius Swordsman Scoundrel of the Northern Duke's House], but this felt more like a title from the Holy Roman Empire...

He was not from a northern duke's house. He was not a genius swordsman. He could not even act like a scoundrel!

He bit his lip hard. This was closer to SCP... or whatever it was, some kind of cosmic horror setting.

At least this damned Status Window... no, shit Window. Your name is Shit Window from now on.

Eugene gritted his teeth and struggled to keep his expression calm. He kept an ordinary, peaceful face, hid his trembling hands naturally inside his sleeves, and walked forward with steady steps.

“Eugene.”

“Hm?”

Naturally. Naturally.

Eugene muttered those words under his breath, then turned at the sound of his name being called from behind him.

He had to maintain his reputation at the academy, at least. He wore a warm, pious smile.

“I knew it. Yevgeny is Eugene. China, Japan, Korea. Where are you from?”

“!!!!!”

A murderous Santa Claus was glaring at him from behind a tree.

Eugene glanced at the warning window, which was flashing madly, and slowly, very carefully turned his head until his neck cracked.

“Mm-hm, yeah. Ah, the weather is wonderful.”

As if he had not turned because someone called him, but simply to stretch...

He kept glancing at the damned Status Window to see whether there were any other warnings, whether it was attempting another narrative trick.

Thump.

A strong hand landed on Eugene's shoulder.

Ivan quietly studied his eyes. His gaze was awkward. It was not the behavior of someone simply startled or terrified.

He was clearly conscious of something.

Of course, there was nothing in the direction the boy kept looking.

The most logical conclusion, then, was that there was something only this boy could see.

“Do you see something?”

Ivan did not know whether transmigrators received some sort of special privilege. At least, he had never received one.

Had Maximilian been born with some special talent too? There was no way to know.

But if that was the case...

If transmigrators had something special, Kim Seonwoo's common sense allowed for a few reasonable guesses.

A Status Window, a Trait Window, or something similar.

The sort of thing that frequently appeared in early game-transmigration stories. A convenient blue augmented-reality display that only its owner could see.

Perhaps the thing Ivan had wanted so desperately was visible in this boy's eyes.

The moment Eugene heard Ivan's words, though, he instinctively thought:

The freak in front of him was definitely another transmigrator. Probably Korean.

Fuck. A double protagonist...? That was the fastest route to failure. Was this not an absurdly old-school style?

Eugene did his best to act normal. If this was another transmigrator who had lived in this world longer than him, was he more likely to be friendly or hostile?

At the very least, this man had thrown a stone full of killing intent at him the instant he recognized him. That meant he was an aggressive monster.

Eugene's thoughts spun wildly. He remembered his first quest.

Eliminate Ivan Petrovich, conceal information, or persuade him.

Failure meant death.

“W-who are you...? Do you know me...?”

“I intend to get to know you from now on.”

“If you do this, the department head will not just... just let it go...”

“Saintess Patricia has authorized it.”

What little faith Eugene had left shattered completely, and Ivan led him away by the hand.

[Warning -Canceled-]

[Survival Instinct Lv. 3]

[Stand up immediately and walk forward. -Canceled-]

[Do not look back. -Canceled-]

[Act naturally. -Canceled-]

[Even if someone calls your name, do not answer. He is not an ally. -Canceled-]

[Leave with the gardener. Do not resist. He is your ally.]

Did a message like that not usually get people killed in Napolitan horror stories?

Eugene stared blankly at the Status Window and thought about it.

It was a pleasant March, with warm spring breezes in the air.

* * *

Looking down over the peaceful campus, the Saintess quietly made the sign of the cross.

A transmigrator.

A transmigrator who had suffered alone for thirty years.

A transmigrator who did not know his own story, who had lost his goal and would vanish as a supporting character in someone else's story.

She watched Ivan leave and prayed.

May that taciturn woodcutter finally find a purpose in life.

And may he have at least a handful of happiness left in his hands when he reached its end.

“The student's name, the one you said was needed to arrange the special class... Oswald, a first-year in the Magic Department. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that was the name. Is there a problem?”

“Um... I would not call it a problem. The boy himself is an exceptionally diligent and talented student, but...”

The head of the Magic Department wore a strange expression as he watched the Saintess carefully.

He was an elf from the Kalion Archipelago. Until just before the semester began, he had been a renowned mage in Kallion.

Elves were few in number, far fewer than humans. As a result, the children of prominent families generally knew each other very, very well.

He was no exception. Any student willing to study abroad in a land so far from home would surely come from an influential family in the Kalion Archipelago, so the Saintess's student immediately came to mind.

Oswald Eastvelpen. The legitimate son of a prestigious Kallion mage family and the son of a current Privy Council member. A diligent, intelligent, thoughtful, and gifted young noble.

He had a few minor problems, but he was a promising young man.

The minor problem was this.

“He is somewhat... unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?”

“He had a prenatal engagement with the daughter of the Privy Council Chairman, but it was recently broken off. Yet... hm.”

How was he supposed to explain this?

Ernbert, the head of the Magic Department, wiped away his sweat and sighed.

Elves were nearly perfect in most respects, but the god who envied such flawlessness had left them with one defect.

Their flaw was obsession. It was not pride. For elves, pride was simply natural.

They could be obsessed with success, honor, or knowledge. There were many forms of it, but in this case...

Evelyn Rustpitz, the Privy Council Chairman's daughter, was obsessed with Oswald to a disturbing degree.

* * *

[The Genius Mage Obsessed Over by the Villainess] was the worst novel of my life.

Fuck. I meant it. It was firewood. I even dropped it after thirty chapters, without leaving a hate comment or criticism.

I left cleanly. The author would not even know I had existed as a reader. So why?

Oswald forced himself to ignore the sharp gaze he could feel against the back of his head and looked up at the sky.

“Life is fucking bullshit.”

Footnotes:

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