There’s a psychoanalytic model commonly referred to as the five stages of death, which identifies five stages that someone goes through before they recognize the end of their life.
The students who sadly learned that they had been robbed of their entire vacation by an agent of the Counterintelligence Command were experiencing the advanced culture of this earth firsthand.
First, denial.
“No, this isn’t reality. There’s no way this could be real, right? Haha, yeah… Spending the whole vacation hospitalized. Hahaha… I must have quite the imagination.”
Isabelle shook her head gently with a bright smile in the first week of hospitalization.
It was definitely a strange ceiling on the first day, and even after the first week of hospitalization, it’s still a strange ceiling.
When will the familiar ceiling tiles of my pretty mansion appear there?
Isabelle’s smile faded in the first week.
Second stage, anger.
“How could he… While I was hospitalized, someone cut apples every day and fed them to me!! After putting me in the hospital, he never once came to visit…?!!”
From this point on, except for priests who came to visit for nursing, no one else attempted to enter Isabelle’s hospital room.
The anger of a knight who has just stepped on the threshold of a giant sometimes creates physical phenomena. It’s becoming possible to kill a person just by being alive.
Sadly, this was as far as Isabelle got. Her anger did not progress to the negotiation stage until the end of the vacation.
The first person to reach the negotiation stage was Ecdysis.
“To father. I’m doing well. I’m hospitalized with a few broken bones, but Lady Saint is truly gentle. Oh, if you’re curious why I’m like this, it’s nothing serious. Just a victim of domestic violence. I was brought to the emergency room by my husband’s merciless violence. But it’s okay. I’ll overcome it with the power of love. Don’t worry and come visit sometime. Love, Ecdysis.”
Ecdysis murmured with a gloomy face as she sealed the letter envelope with wax.
A few days later, receiving her letter in haste, Einar summoned Mordred to inquire about the details.
“Oh, Ivan said he did some training. Apparently, he went to the mountains and let some orcs loose…”
“Orcs? How many?”
“About thirty, as far as I know, sir.”
“Ecdysis alone?”
“No, sir. Oscar, Elphiera, and Isabelle. They’re with him.”
Einar set the letter down quietly and chuckled contentedly.
“Memories… I had those days too. Haha… peaceful times. Just thirty orcs. Do you know? In the battlefield where Maximilian and I first fought together, the basic formation of orc fellows was 300?”
“Oh, right. It was like that back then. Nowadays, the youngsters are…”
“It’s a good thing Ivan is watching over them. Otherwise, the kids would have become too soft. It’s fortunate.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ecdysis’s negotiation stage would be declared a mistake in choosing the negotiation subject. She had forgotten that Drovian’s warriors don’t negotiate. (She should have negotiated with the saint instead.)
Afterwards, Ecdysis sent several unanswered letters to the homeland and trembled in loneliness.
However, the elves, who think differently from foolish humans, had already surpassed that stage long ago.
The fourth stage, depression. At this stage, Elphiera was busy filling one side of the hospital room with books.
They were mostly books on training methods for different breeds.
“Most of the dogs’ behavioral problems are due to the guardian’s fault, that’s the latest conclusion in the academic world.”
“Yes, Miss Graykencos.”
“So, when a dog bites a person, pees anywhere, or invites its guardian into the mountains and throws them in front of thirty orcs, it actually means it’s the guardian’s fault.”
“…Is that so? Even for dogs?”
“Yeah. If you take them for walks often, prepare their food yourself, and manage stress by playing games like fetch or tug-of-war together, those things won’t happen often. That was the conclusion of this book.”
“I see.”
Elphiera’s nodding soullessly. For several days now, Elphiera had been murmuring, “That’s right, it’s my fault. I was bad. Dogs shouldn’t be raised like that. There are no bad dogs in the world,” in a low voice.
Though the topic was sensible, the atmosphere was strangely chilly, so inadvertently, the soul cast a warming spell. Unlike Kallion, Krasilov’s summers seemed to be on the chilly side.
And finally, as the vacation was nearing its end.
As the discharge date approached, the three people simultaneously reached the final stage.
Sadly, they regressed back to [anger] instead of [acceptance].
“Uncle … you are late.”
To the man who never visited even once.
“At this pace… are you going to make me wait until I become an old woman?”
With a conclusion that a clear alternative was needed.
Chapter 120: Muggle-born Wizard’s Guide to Academic Management.
Tock, tock, tock.
It always rained at times like these.
Ivan, now recalling the blurry memories of Kim Sunwoo’s movies, stood in the rain.
It’s a Hollywood movie cliché. When the protagonist stands in front of a grave, the weather turns gloomy and it starts raining.
In fact, it often rained in Frechenkaya at this time. The last drops of rain pouring at the beginning of autumn. Then it would start snowing.
“Senior, what are you doing out here without an umbrella?”
“Dmitri.”
Ivan glanced briefly at the umbrella over his head and then bowed his head again. Raindrops were hitting the gravestone.
The national cemetery for fallen soldiers located in a section of Frechenkaya Central Park lay quietly shrouded in dense mist.
-Ivan Petrovich.
-1236 – 1268
All fallen members of the Cleanup Unit are buried in an unnamed cemetery within the Counterintelligence Headquarters. Including cases where the bodies couldn’t be recovered.
They don’t leave gravestone names. The records of Cleanup Unit agents are erased simultaneously with their deaths. Since even their families didn’t know about their achievements, the only way to prove their existence is through the memories of their comrades.
So, it can be said that Ivan had a lot of help in leaving behind this gravestone when he faked his death.
Since then, Ivan had visited his grave once a year. His official date of death. But it was for the remembrance of the deceased, not for himself. With guilt for being the sole survivor and the sin of leaving behind a name alone intertwined.
His empty grave was the only place for those who died during that time. There was only one name left here, but underneath the empty coffins, the names of seven hundred agents who had fallen together were written densely.
This is hypocrisy.
Ivan stood there for a long time, watching the rain pouring down on the gravestone.
“I received the report, sir. You put the period nicely. You should smile.”
Tick, tick. A sound of flicking a lighter was heard behind him. Soon, a sharp smell of tobacco filled the air.
Dmitri took out a half-crushed pack of cigarettes by Ivan’s side.
“Would you like one?”
“I quit.”
“These fellows haven’t quit yet.”
At those words, Ivan quietly looked at the cigarette. It was a standard issue military cigarette stamped with the Krasilov emblem. It was harsh, bitter, tasteless, and had a strong smell of tobacco.
Cigarettes were the agents’ poison. During infiltration missions, the cigarette flame was incredibly convenient, and the smoke posed a threat to the keen senses of the vampires.
But at the same time, it was the agents’ only solace. Having survived for years in enemy territory, where not even family, let alone kin, could be seen, agents found solace only in cigarettes.
Alcohol severely affects physical responsiveness. Agents never drink during operations. But cigarettes remained the only comfort for agents in secured areas.
So, during those times, every agent carried cigarettes. In fact, not only agents, but every soldier of that time did.
Without these sturdy sticks, the war would have been unbearable.
Ivan plucked a cigarette from Dmitri’s hand and placed it in his mouth. The lighter approached his face courteously.
Dmitri gently held the flame to Ivan’s lips with gloved hands. The cigarette smoke heated Ivan’s lungs.
Whew.
The white smoke mingled and disappeared into the mist.
The sensation of nicotine seeping into his brain was dizzying. The cheap tobacco leaves burned, emitting acrid smoke.
After inhaling deeply twice more, Ivan exhaled deeply and placed the cigarette in a corner of the gravestone.
Kthick, the cigarette, soaked in rainwater, soon extinguished, emitting a faint smoke.
It was a momentary combustion. Ivan looked up at the sky following the last strand of smoke from the cigarette, and for a moment, he squeezed his eyes shut in the rain.
A few seconds later, Ivan lowered his head again. His voice that followed was as dry as before.
“I have something to report.”
“Yes, sir. Baron Valica has completed the ‘rebel extermination’ in Andgrind. He complained that negotiations with the secretary were faltering.”
“Other than the obvious?”
“The baron requests to see you once.”
“Baron Valica?”
“Most likely, Duke Volonovin. You expected that aristocrat to notice, didn’t you?”
One of the three dukes of Krasilov, the commander of the 1st Northern Division, and the military governor of the Northern Maquis. General Volonovin. Ivan nodded his head as if unfolding an old file, pondering the old name.
“What else?”
“They’ve unearthed the Sky Vault of Abiditas. As initially negotiated, the negotiation results in Andgrind are entirely for the 2nd Northern Division, and the Sky Vault of Abiditas is decided to be received by the Counterintelligence Headquarters… Are you alright? The treasures collected by those lizards are usually not ordinary items.”
“Not needed. Dispose of what can be disposed of, and incinerate everything that cannot be converted into cash.”
“Yes, sir.”
All kinds of goods acquired by agents during operations are naturally incorporated into the royal treasury. However, if it’s called a report from the Septime Chamber, it’s not an exaggeration to say that its value is astronomical.
They were leaders of an entire nation. In their treasure vaults, all the wealth that one nation could possess throughout history is piled up.
As for Abiditas, he was the leader of the necromancers. Even among the countless treasures, most would likely be contaminated and unusable, but even so, there would be enough remaining to establish a new lineage.
Ivan briefly nodded. Wealth was not needed. The operating expenses of the orphanage are fully supported, and his operational expenses can be received from the national treasury. Other than that, what meaning does it have personally?
“Lastly, uh. The princess said something strange.”
“What is it?”
“That you… will be a professor…? Is that true?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Teaching whom? Students? Seriously?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s a disaster…. Is there room in the graveyard…. Should I ask….”
From the tournament hosted by the princess to the Andgrind War, Ivan’s activities were already too well known externally.
There are still few who realize who “that Ivan of those days” was. The name Ivan Petrovich itself is too common.
But externally, Ivan could no longer operate undercover. He flew too high in the limelight.
So, it must be utilized. In the current situation where his name value has skyrocketed, it’s the most rational thing to do.
“I felt like I needed to prepare.”
This game seems to have a slightly strange difficulty design.
*
On the first day back home, Ivan sat at his desk, opened his notebook, and got lost in thought.
Since the ‘Tutorial’ event began, Ivan had been organizing the stages by timeline, and he felt uneasy.
The field internship assault, where most playable characters would die without external assistance, was one thing. But Enriqué was nearby, so maybe the stage completion condition was simply to defend for a certain amount of time.
The subsequent Frechenkaya underground assault was also “reasonable,” except for the boss.
Then it became a problem. The boss of the ‘Academy Secret Room’ that Ivan solved was an entity beyond the norm. Although sealed and lost all powers except divine, it was a situation created by coincidence.
If Ivan’s role is removed from the equation, what would have happened? The boss, who had steadily gathered strength in the Frechenkaya underground, would probably have appeared in the latter part of the story and set the entire city on fire.
Even if the boss for the latter part was dealt with beforehand, doesn’t that mean that Frechenkaya would suffer damage to the extent of being burned down in the original storyline?
“And this time, the Andgrind Civil War.”
If Ivan hadn’t been there, Enriqué would never have intervened alone in the Andgrind Civil War. Given the circumstances, the Secretary would have been defeated, and the anti-human dwarves would have unified the underground city.
And then, they would have fully restored Abiditas’s power, and perhaps even acquired the divine. With a new ‘Dragon General,’ they would have begun to dominate the northern regions of Krasilov.
At that point, the Northern Legion would have been unable to stop them.
By chance, Ivan, who had once tried to kill Abiditas before the end of the civil war, intervened in the situation and cut off the foundation of the latter part of the story.
But if the storyline had progressed as originally planned… Krasilov would surely have perished at that point. Having lost Frechenkaya and the northern base.
And the fall of Krasilov would have inevitably become a fatal blow to the Northern Alliance. It would have meant the collapse of the last bastion defending the northern front.
“If such a situation were happening across the entire Northern Alliance…”
With a grave expression, Ivan looked at the map of the Northern Alliance. The three fronts of the north, west, and south. All the waters except for the Kallion Gulf, and the other countries bordering the demon lord and the monarchies.
Would there be any organization left to bear the burden of a second Great War? No. There wouldn’t be.
All indicators were pointing to a new war. Ivan was a rational person, so he did not interpret the situation hopefully.
When there was clear evidence of a situation, Ivan didn’t resort to persuasion or rationalization; he wielded axes and pistols. This situation was clearly a precursor to war, and war was something Ivan couldn’t handle alone.
After careful consideration, Ivan was appointed as a professor at the University of Jan’s.
Fortunately, Elizaveta fully supported his appointment. Except for the war part, in terms of being a university professor. (Because the curriculum of the professor’s lectures could be suppressed by the dean’s authority, but it was difficult for the princess to suppress the operational plans of the Cleanup Unit.)
Thus, in the first semester of the second year at St. Jan’s University, three liberal arts courses unrelated to majors were established. Thanks to the full support of the dean, they were perfect courses with unbelievable grades attached, announced to be graded only as P/F.
*
“This… feels like a trap.”
The students who completed Ivan’s course in the summer semester realized it as soon as they saw the course description.
*
Author’s note (Author’s afterword): Holiday vibes.
Finally, an academy professor story… I thought. But when I think about it, there hasn’t been a time when it wasn’t an academy professor story, has there…? When did I start thinking I wasn’t writing an academy story?
