Enrique had to work overtime today as well. She had to handle four unexpected classes, totaling 18 credits, in one week. Her overtime had been going on for two months now.
In this country, there wasn’t even such a thing as overtime pay, so it could be considered a serious violation of human rights. (Vampires don’t receive basic rights. Furthermore, there are no labor rights in Krasilov.)
Handling substitute classes wasn’t difficult for someone like her, but the problem lay with the curriculum. Generally, shouldn’t they at least provide a syllabus or materials if they were going to assign lectures to someone else?
“First, I have to make them my kin.”
This is an issue she couldn’t give up on. It resolves numerous problems all at once. Dealing with those who keep creeping up should be solved with just one command from the Elder, and she’ll have a reason to confine them to their dwelling during the day while she roams at night.
And resolving the lifespan issue is a trivial benefit.
“I should have done it when he was a little younger. Ugh, that beard though…”
When one becomes a vampire, most bodily functions shut down. It’s mainly parts where hair grows that do so. If she had dealt with it when he was still young and tender, he wouldn’t have thought about growing a beard.
She held back from forcing it now because she thought there would only be a fifty-fifty chance of success.
“If I supply blood packs and he remains in Nightwalker state for two hundred years, if I raise him well from the beginning… Hm.”
Wiping away the saliva from the corner of her mouth, Enrique returned to her classroom preparations with a cooler and more lethal expression, her gestures becoming lighter.
After some time passed, Enrique stretched her stiff shoulders and yawned. With a groan, she shivered.
“Alright. Perfect. Once the finals are over, finally… finally, it’s the end…”
If there had been just one more diligent professor like me, Jan’s University would have been renowned as the world’s top institution. Enrique sniffled tearfully. (She had failed two-thirds of her classes last semester.)
– Knock knock.
“Leave it at the door.”
“That’s not allowed.”
With Enrique’s brief response, the door to the professor’s research lab creaked open.
“Huh?!”
“How have you been?”
Enrique turned around in surprise at the familiar voice.
Clang! The teacup she was holding slipped from her hand and rolled to the floor. She didn’t even care that coffee spilled all over the class materials she had just prepared.
“Uh… uh… wh… why…?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Why…?”
Enrique’s pupils dilated. It felt like her head was being shaken by a sudden shock.
Ivan briefly pondered as he observed her. Time was deadly even for vampires. The fact that even vampirism couldn’t cure dementia was incredibly surprising.
In principle, immortals should have strong resistance to aging. However, since it was based on the human brain, enduring more than two hundred years might have been difficult.
“Ivan… you…?”
“Mm.”
“Are you… okay…? Uh…?”
Clear drool trickled from Enrique’s mouth. Ivan frowned and took a step back.
“Your… beard?!”
At her words, Ivan reflexively touched the spot where his beard used to be, then lowered his empty hand.
He nodded silently.
“It was a disguise.”
“Finally!!!! I believed in you, Elise!!!”
Side ep: Shaving the Beard, and Then.
This incident occurred when Ivan was lying in the most splendid guest room of the Royal Palace, receiving specialized treatment from the priests.
Due to severe fatigue and lack of energy, Ivan would faint several times a day. Even that was beyond what could be expected and prepared for in terms of willpower.
And every time he opened his eyes, he had to endure the abrupt experience of nursing staff changing.
“So, Big Brother, what do you think? When I told them, ‘Stop it, he’s not the Count!’ Do you find my status window useful, isn’t it? Haha!”
“Mm.”
Eugene would come in and make a fuss before leaving.
“Uncle, you didn’t even come to check on me once, but I’m here. Now you know how magnanimous I am?”
“Mm.”
“Even I needed to be checked on! Look at this. I almost lost my arm back then!”
Or Isabelle, who would boast about her injuries like medals but ultimately do nothing.
“Uncle, lift your leg. I’ll change the bandage.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Hmph, stay still! I’ve changed your bandages so many times!”
Ecdysis promised to change the bandages, but ended up removing the splint and tearing the wound instead, then sobbing and running away. (Huskals of Drovian were forgiving of whatever she did.)
“Krasilov is cold, isn’t it?”
“Mm.”
“Kalion is warm all year round. Winter is just a bit chilly? From a human perspective, that is, to elves, it’s just a refreshing day.”
“…?”
Elves are a race that feels the cold a lot. Ivan didn’t bother to question, but he couldn’t help but deduct points from Elpheira’s basic knowledge.
The reason Kalion was warm wasn’t due to latitude but magic. A vast ancient magic spread throughout the island, making the temperature favorable for elves.
“You know you need to keep warm in winter, right? Especially when you’re injured. Mm, don’t look over here.”
Elpheira strangely spoke while looking only at the floor. She said what she had to say and left. Nursing or comforting was just a useless act.
It would be better to practice or manage injuries sustained during battles during that time.
As the constant stream of visitors persisted, Ivan was left with no choice but to seek the help of a priest. A sign bearing the message “No Visitors Allowed” was prominently displayed on his door.
And when he fainted again, he could somewhat relax and close his eyes. At least he hoped he would quietly get up.
“….”
He did get up quietly. Everyone in the room had their backs turned to him, not even daring to make a sound, staring at the wall.
“Gulp… sob….”
Since the monarch of Krasilov never showed tears to anyone under the heavens.
Despite the priest’s unsuccessful attempts to prevent visitors, Ivan couldn’t blame them. At this stage, who could possibly restrain the most influential individual in the nation?
“Your Highness?”
“Sob… sniffling….”
Elizaveta was sitting quietly by his bedside, softly sobbing. Upon hearing Ivan’s words, she lifted her head, quietly swallowed her breath, and said,
“Are you still in pain…? The priests haven’t found the problem. If even a slight change occurs in you, that priest is as good as dead that day, as you promised.”
“It’s not like that. I’m fine.”
Ivan was more aware of his body’s condition than anyone else. When injuries exceed a certain level, the body tends to block unnecessary functions to focus on healing.
This was akin to techniques where he would block some sensory organs to concentrate on combat.
Although he occasionally fainted due to reaching the limits of his physical condition and issues beyond his will, it was a symptom that should be taken positively. It meant there was still room for healing in his body.
“Is that so? Then… okay. I believe you. Vanca. Just like you’ve always been.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Fortunately, after listening to Ivan’s explanation, Elizaveta nodded quietly.
“Of course, I always believe, but I’m always betrayed.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“But strangely, I find myself believing your words again. Isn’t that odd? Like a wife who always trusts her gambling husband. Haha. Tomorrow won’t be like this. The day after will be better, believing every day while being betrayed…”
“Yes…?”
Elizaveta’s face, bowed in shame, thankfully remained hidden in the shadows.
“I called you back because it’s pitiful to see you aging alone in retirement, but every quarter you come back on the verge of death. You handle tasks I didn’t assign, then proudly wear a ‘For Krasilov’ expression as if you’ve accomplished something.”
The whispering voice grew increasingly coarse.
“It was cute at first, but please ensure you do it safely. I don’t mind, but your body must return intact… and they were reporting that you’re dead.”
“I’ll put Pavel on probation later.”
It was a very generous punishment for an adjutant who had misjudged his commander’s life and death. Ivan looked up confidently.
“What I wanted to put on probation wasn’t him, but you!”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Ivan bowed his head somewhat sullenly.
“While ignoring even the smallest of your requests! At least, yes, at least trim your beard! Just a little… Just a little grooming!”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Look at that! Even when I say this, you confidently refuse! Wait, wait, wait! What…? What did you say?”
“I will follow your command, Your Highness.”
Ivan said calmly.
His life did not simply revolve around reminiscing about past heroes. Rather than merely imitating and following those from bygone days, the time spent together formed the essence of his life.
After sending away Jill Ber, he had finally realized this. Ivan had decided not to be bound by the regrets of the past heroes any longer.
He had to move forward. He had to excel further. The hero party wasn’t ready yet, and the world wasn’t kind to any of us.
Moreover, fundamentally, managing a beard was difficult and detrimental to hygiene. If it weren’t for reverence for the monarch, he wouldn’t have even thought about growing it in the first place.
So, it was better this way. Especially considering it was a situation demanded by the monarch’s sole heir.
“Is there no one here!! Bring a sharp knife immediately!!”
Elizaveta, with an excited face, stood up and shouted. When the startled aide handed her the sword at his waist, she swung it once and then managed to retrieve a razor from him.
Ivan closed his eyes bitterly as he watched his beard being cut away, feeling as if he were graduating from long-held memories.
*
The journey to Krasilov was smooth. In fact, it had to be. Sane individuals wouldn’t dare provoke the wrathful lord (anger) leading the army to Krasilov.
As characteristic of train travel, just like the return train to the academy, which usually had some kind of hiccup, Ivan could enjoy a comfortable train journey with a somewhat new feeling.
If there was one thing that was difficult to bear, it was Elizaveta’s behavior.
“Now, Ivan. Open your mouth.”
“Your Highness, I have my han—.”
“Exactly.”
Where did they manage to procure apples this season? And why did someone always come to cut apples while lying down with bandages?
Amidst such questions, Ivan chewed on the apple that had entered his mouth unexpectedly.
Seeing his reaction, Elizaveta nodded approvingly with a pleased expression.
“Exactly. You must chew thoroughly. Just swallowing could choke you.”
“Your Highness, I’m not a child.”
“Weren’t you?”
“…?”
Ivan was momentarily at a loss for words at the young lord’s remark, who was nearly eight lifetimes younger than himself. But Elizaveta’s eyes were extremely serious.
“Doing everything forbidden, going out and getting beaten up, falling down injured at every opportunity, not contacting home even when dying… How is that any different from a child? You may have used Krasilovan for many years, but you don’t seem to know the term for calling for help in such situations.”
“In my dictionary, that’s called a soldier.”
“Haha, a joke. If you were just a soldier, you’d be in the military court.”
Elizaveta laughed without a trace of humor in her eyes.
When Ivan suddenly tried to get up, feeling a chill, a swift white hand pressed firmly on his forehead, forcing him back down.
“Feeling uncomfortable somewhere? Feel free to say it. If it’s your knees, for instance, that would be considered blasphemy.”
“No, Your Highness.”
“Haha, exactly. You’re good.”
Ivan lay there now, wrapped in bandages and splints all over his body. The situation had resulted in fractures on both sides of his ribs and thighs.
It was normal to find it difficult to move, but Ivan was a superhuman. And if magic was functional, superhumans could easily force their bodies to move, at least to some extent.
If given sufficient training, I can move as long as my neck isn’t cut off. So, I would say the current treatment is excessive medical care.
It’s a situation where you have to worry about overestimated insurance premiums. (There is no insurance service in Krasilov.)
“Now, would you like to drink more water or eat more apples?”
“I’m fine.”
Ivan sighed quietly as he lay on the window, cutting across the knee of the Ironblood Lord of Krasilov.
“What is there that I cannot do for you? Tell me anything.”
Elizaveta smiled warmly and caressed Ivan’s stubbled cheek. Unable to resist her touch, Ivan simply closed his eyes dutifully.
The attendant, unable to witness the king’s condition, turned his head. Upon reflection, it was better to face the charge of blasphemy than to witness such a sight. Watching such things made one feel as though they were twisting inside, ready to die.
The train arrived smoothly in Krasilov.
Ivan was to be taken to the Vigor Hospital as soon as he disembarked and imprisoned. Since Elizaveta was the visitor, he couldn’t even attempt to escape.
Every day, he was fed piles of strange salads containing eels, oysters, various nuts, celery, and garlic.
Finally, after dedicating himself to treatment for a month, he was officially able to return. As his official position was not the Commander of the Counterintelligence Command, but a professor, he headed to the university the next day.
