A Retired Soldier Wants to Rest Ivan had been waiting peacefully for nothing more than the ending.
After finally escaping that wretched other world, he had been looking forward to cracking open a cold can of beer and eating dried pollock.
Only now did he realize that everything he had experienced had been nothing more than background setting.
And that the genre of this game…
Wasn’t a strategy simulation about holding back the Demon King’s army in a desperate war.
Nor was it a classic RPG where the Hero gathered companions to overthrow the Demon King’s tyranny.
It was…
An Academy story.
That was the conclusion Ivan reached in his thirtieth year after Possession.
*** St.
Vasilisa Orphanage was one of the wealthiest orphanages in the Kingdom.
Normally, an orphanage needed several favorable conditions to become wealthy.
It had to occupy a prime location within the capital’s administrative sphere.
Or possess political significance as the first orphanage established for war orphans during the Kingdom’s reconstruction after the war.
Having an orphanage director with extensive connections among influential social figures and high-ranking nobles also helped.
Meeting enough of those conditions could, paradoxically enough, create something known as a wealthy orphanage.
As it happened, St.
Vasilisa Orphanage satisfied every single one.
“Hmm.” Ivan rubbed the goosebumps rising along his forearm and frowned.
If years of military service had taught him anything, it was this: Never ignore the feeling that something bad is about to happen.
“Kids, sprinkle some salt.” “Yeees!” Watching the children run outside with cheerful laughter, he let out a deep sigh.
Four years had already passed since the Demon King died, yet the game still hadn’t ended.
Wasn’t there something wrong if the epilogue dragged on this long?
Is there another condition?
Surely the ending condition isn’t something ridiculous like “the Hero dies of old age.” I’d rather go home before that.
These days, Ivan spent much of his time desperately trying to recall the fading memories of Earth, carefully making a list of everything he wanted to eat once he returned.
Like a sergeant counting down the days until discharge.
Beer.
Dried pollock.
Honey Butter Chips.
Nachos dipped in cheese sauce.
Tuna mayonnaise rice.
Kimchi stew.
Damn it.
Kimchi stew deserves three underlines.
It had been thirty years since he’d last eaten kimchi.
Braised kimchi.
Stir-fried kimchi.
He couldn’t leave those off the list either.
And alcohol.
Every kind except vodka and wine.
If possible, he wanted drinks from East Asia.
After spending decades among monsters who happily munched on cucumber pickles and pickled mushrooms as drinking snacks…
Even plain puffed rice crackers sounded heavenly.
“Haa…” Ivan walked absentmindedly before suddenly coming to a halt.
Someone was inside his office.
An adult.
More importantly…
A well-trained soldier.
His previously lifeless eyes sharpened instantly.
Without making it obvious, he continued walking.
Not silently this time.
Naturally.
Deliberately.
Step.
Step.
He walked straight toward the wooden door bearing the plaque reading Director’s Office, emphasizing how completely defenseless he appeared.
Only one person.
His senses had long crossed into something bordering on animal instinct.
Anyone who survived years in the Extermination Unit eventually learned tricks like this.
The movement beyond the door abruptly stopped.
The person inside had noticed his position.
Slowly, the stranger reached toward their waist while lowering their center of gravity.
Even if a crossbow bolt came flying the instant the door opened…
Ivan’s head would no longer be where the attacker expected.
An old habit.
“It’s been a long time, Senior!” The moment Ivan turned the doorknob, the unfamiliar visitor greeted him brightly.
No hostility.
Recognizing the voice immediately, Ivan relaxed.
Opening the door fully, he found a neatly dressed officer waving at him.
“Have you been well?
Ah, I really should’ve visited more often!” “You should’ve come through the front gate.” “Come on.
Since when have we ever worked that way?” The officer laughed and stepped back.
His eyes briefly swept over Ivan’s sleeves and waist.
“Your business.” “So impatient!
We should have some tea first, catch up on old times—that sort of thing comes before business.” Despite saying that, he pulled a small envelope from inside his coat.
Wearing immaculate white gloves, he carefully placed it on the table.
High-quality paper.
Premium wax seal.
Stamped firmly upon it…
A chrysanthemum crest.
The instant Ivan recognized it, he instinctively took a step backward.
“W-Would that count as treason?” “Why would Colonel Kirillovna be looking for me…?” “She’s the Minister of the Royal Household now.
She was already a brigadier general by the time you retired.” “…Then why me?
If I remember correctly, when I retired…” “Yes.” “He told you to keep your head down and live quietly.” “And you actually believed him.
That’s honestly impressive.” “Her Highness the Princess couldn’t even eat for three days after you left.” Chuckling, the officer slid the letter back toward Ivan.
“Go on and read it.
A personal letter from Her Highness would fetch an absurd price at an auction.” “…” With the caution of someone dismantling a magical artifact moments away from exploding, Ivan carefully reached for the envelope.
He made certain not to damage the wax seal before gently breaking it.
Pop.
The envelope opened with a satisfying snap.
Inside was elegant stationery woven with golden thread.
Ivan’s hand froze.
“What’s wrong?
Maybe Her Highness is simply asking how you’ve been.” “…As if.” Elizaveta Kirillovna Krasilof.
Back on the front lines, everyone had called her by a much friendlier nickname.
Iron-Blooded Liza.
There was no chance this woman would send a messenger just to ask how he was doing.
If anything…
She was more likely to poison the stationery.
…Wait.
She didn’t actually poison the paper, did she…?
“Just read it already.” Even then, Ivan hesitated one last time before finally gathering the courage to unfold the letter.
The handwriting was immaculate.
So perfect it looked as though it had been typed.
Vanka, have you been well?
Ivan already wanted to stop reading.
He swallowed dryly.
I have heard occasional news about you.
It seems you’ve been doing well.
During the first few months, I was relieved.
But not anymore.
Unfortunately…
I cannot say the same about myself.
Whoever managed to make this woman “not well”…must already be paying dearly for it.
Do you remember when we struggled together to tend the garden?
I had hoped we might someday enjoy tea together there.
Yet you left without ever looking back.
Do you remember when we burned down the demon residential district and established a military government, exploiting the now “peaceful” demons?
Of course you do.
Afterward, I thought to myself…
Fine.
Even without you, Vanka, surely the garden we worked so hard to cultivate wouldn’t fall into ruin.
Winter would pass.
The snow would melt.
Flowers would bloom again.
And perhaps…
Someday…
You would return to see the garden you helped create.
Ivan muttered under his breath.
“Me?
Visit the royal court?
Why would I…” But the seasons have turned once more, Vanka.
Winter is returning.
The servants have grown complacent from comfort.
They no longer tend the garden.
Weeds and wild beasts flourish.
The wildflowers no longer bloom.
A winter colder and quieter than the last approaches.
The other day…
I saw mistletoe spreading over a dying shrub.
Only then did Ivan understand the letter’s true purpose.
Before reading the final paragraph, he instinctively let out a long sigh.
Vanka.
My most trusted Lumberjack.
Whatever you desire, I shall repay it threefold.
If the reward proves insufficient, I shall make up the difference with our friendship.
If even that is not enough…
Then let our shared memories serve as payment.
The Kingdom still needs your devotion.
As it always has.
And as it always will.
With affection, Kirillovna Ivan reread the brief letter several times before finally pressing tired fingers against his aching eyes.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
He drummed his fingertips on the table while organizing his thoughts.
“So?” “What situation am I walking into first?” “It’s bad.” “The military administration keeps begging us to withdraw.” “His Highness Prince Alexander is trying to carve the Kingdom into five pieces and sell it off.” “And His Majesty the ‘Great King’ still sits silently without saying a word.” The officer smirked.
“But here’s the fun part.” “You remember St.
Jansk University, right?” “The international university founded during the war?” “What about it?” “We got hold of this year’s incoming student and faculty roster ahead of schedule.” “Take a look.” He handed Ivan a notebook.
“The Saint has joined the faculty.” “She’s now a full professor in the Department of Theology.” “And skipping ahead…” “The students.” “Recognize any names?” Isabelle.
Daughter of Hero Maximilian.
Oscar.
Son of the knight Gilles Vert.
Elpihera.
Daughter of the mage Beolgrein.
Esidisi.
Daughter of the berserker Einar.
Lucia.
Disciple of the thief Enrique.
And newly appointed as professor…
Saint Patricia.
It looked like someone had painted the perfect portrait of the Hero’s Party.
“As if that wasn’t enough, our late great king abolished the university’s age restriction.” “Now anyone can enroll, regardless of age, as long as they pass the entrance exams.” St.
Yansk University was one of the finest institutions in the Allied Kingdoms.
This damned fantasy world’s version of an elite university didn’t care how old applicants were.
Young.
Old.
It didn’t matter.
Anyone who survived its brutally difficult entrance examination, interview, and recommendation requirements was welcomed.
That was where the problem began.
After defeating the Demon King…
The Hero’s Party went their separate ways.
Some became nobles.
Others withdrew from society.
But they all had one thing in common.
In their respective homelands…
They were living legends.
Every action they took had the potential to spark international conflict.
Especially when it involved sending their children abroad.
“Our prince is busy trying to sell off the country.” “And now, by pure coincidence, all of this is happening in the capital.” “So…” “What do you think happens next?” If even one of these students were killed…
Or seriously injured…
The Kingdom was finished.
“What do you need me to do?” “We’ve already created a position for you on the university staff.” “Not as a professor.” “Not as an assistant.” “As a gardener.” “Well…
universities have trees too.” “…” Pointing at the list of names, the officer continued.
“Protect these kids.” “Make sure every last one of them returns safely to their own countries.” “Just three years.” “If someone drops out, maybe even less.” At that point, Ivan understood everything.
Colonel Kirillovna— Or rather…
Her Highness the Princess—urgently needed an operative who was no longer officially affiliated with the military.
Using active-duty agents would leave traces, allowing the prince’s faction to identify them.
But using retired agents at random was equally dangerous.
There was no way to know who might already have switched sides.
Then, as if by miracle…
There just happened to be the perfect candidate living quietly near the capital.
A man whose loyalty was unquestionable.
Whose abilities had already been proven.
Who had lived peacefully in retirement, far removed from politics.
Yet whose whereabouts were so well known that contacting him posed no difficulty.
That miraculous individual…
Was Ivan.
He had been quietly waiting for the ending.
Ready to return to Earth.
Ready to indulge in every glorious piece of modern cuisine he’d missed for thirty years.
And then…
A horrifying realization struck him.
The Demon King had died.
Yet instead of ending with the classic…
“And the Hero’s Party lived happily ever after…” The world had somehow transitioned into a setting where chaotic international politics, domestic power struggles…
And an international university attracting the children of the world’s greatest heroes…
Had become the main stage.
After thirty long years…
Kim Seonwoo finally remembered a genre every Korean would recognize.
“…Fuck.” “…Pardon?” The Kim Seonwoo who had lain dormant for decades suddenly awakened.
“Fuck.” “This was an Academy story?” “Senior…?” Cold sweat trickled down the officer’s back.
Even during Ivan’s active service, this was an exceptionally rare sight.
Ivan Petrovich…
Openly furious.
Naturally, the officer—who knew exactly what Ivan had been like in his military days— Froze under the overwhelming killing intent radiating from him.
As he stood there drenched in cold sweat, trying to understand what Ivan had just meant…
Ivan slowly closed his eyes.
Suppressing the boiling rage of Kim Seonwoo with immense effort, he spoke.
“Ivan Petrovich…” “Accepts Her Highness’s command.” Let’s just go home already.
Three years.
After waiting thirty…
What was another three?
Surely…
Once those three years passed…
The ending would finally arrive.
And that…
Was how the Academy gained its gardener.