30 Years after Reincarnation, it turns out to be a Romance Fantasy Novel

“W-Who did you say he went to meet?”
The boy with neatly kept gray hair asked in a flustered tone, his expression betraying his surprise. Garland, on the other hand, looked slightly puzzled but, despite his fierce appearance, had a surprisingly kind side. Instead of responding curtly, he answered again with unexpected patience.
“I heard he went to meet Young Master Arno’s father.”

“……”
“What’s wrong, kid? Got a headache or something?”
“N-No, it’s just that I wanted to confirm something… Thank you for answering, Mr. Garland.”

The boy—Derrick—stumbled over his words slightly, but he recovered quickly, not allowing himself to be visibly shaken.
“Hmm?”
Had Garland picked up on the slight unease in Derrick’s demeanor?

The former mercenary cadet…
“Come on, cut the formal crap. Just talk casually, will you?”
“A-Ah, well, that’s…”

“Oh? Or is it because I used to be a mercenary? You looking down on me? Man, that kinda stings…”
“N-No! Absolutely not! That’s not it at all, I swear…!”
“Hahaha! I’m messing with you, kid.”

Thwack! Thwack!
“Ugh, my back… It hurts.”
“Quit whining. You’re built like a tank.”

“Ugh…”
Derrick swallowed his groan, but deep down, he felt grateful toward Garland.
He knew that Garland had deliberately smacked his back playfully to snap him out of his thoughts, sensing his internal turmoil.
‘…He’s a good guy. As expected of a future mercenary commander.’

A man whose leadership score was an impressive 93 points out of 100.
He once aspired to become a knight, but after experiencing life at the academy, he grew disillusioned with nobility and returned to the mercenary world, eventually founding his own mercenary corps.
On top of that…

‘He was the one who recruited Kunta and Arno as vice-commanders, wasn’t he?’
Though his raw combat ability was slightly lower than theirs, his leadership alone was more than enough to make up for it.
For reference, the current king’s leadership score was around 44 points—so compared to that… well.

‘Ah, but this isn’t the time to be thinking about that…’
The fact that he naturally started analyzing Garland like an in-game [character] made it clear why his instructor often cursed at him, calling him a “damn game addict.”
This world was reality, not a game.

‘My brain knows it, but my heart still hasn’t fully accepted it, huh?’
Derrick let out a bitter smile, once again acknowledging his own problem.
He wanted to change, but it wasn’t easy.

…Though, to be fair, if there was ever a time for an excuse…
‘Even Instructor would be shocked if he heard this. And for good reason…’
──Because a character who was supposed to be long dead was still alive.

Iliad de Offen, the last head of the House of Offen.
A name belonging to someone who, according to the original game’s storyline, should have already been dead.
***

Unintentionally or not, Ihan often found himself meeting the heads of noble families.
Some of them were among the parents of his students at the academy, whom he had to interact with as an instructor. Others he had met during his time in the royal capital before becoming an instructor.
Regardless of the circumstances, there was one thing all noble family heads had in common.

‘…They’re all insufferable pricks.’
Arrogant.
No, even calling them arrogant might be putting it too lightly.

To say that these noble heads were full of themselves would be an understatement.
Well, not that it was hard to understand why.
These were men who firmly believed they had been born with noble blue blood coursing through their veins. And as those who led that so-called blue blood, their arrogance was practically inevitable.

That being said…
‘Experience(?) tells me their blood isn’t actually blue, but red like everyone else’s…’
But that wasn’t a story to be shared in public, so moving on.

The point was that arrogance and lack of basic decency were passive traits among noble family heads. Expecting humanity from them was a fool’s errand.
With that in mind…
“Thanks to Sir Turtle, Arno has recently become quite dignified. He had talent, but his personality was… rough around the edges. Thanks to Sir Turtle, that roughness has been smoothed out. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.”

“F-Father…?!”
“I only speak the truth, so don’t make that face. A man can improve his swordsmanship with enough effort, but a rotten personality? There’s no saving that. I’ve seen too many good-for-nothing brats cause astronomical losses to their families because of their rotten attitudes. So, no matter how many times I thank Sir Turtle, it won’t be enough. He turned our house’s eldest son into a decent human being. That’s a feat worth celebrating, is it not?”
“…I was never rough around the edges.”

“Tsk, tsk. You were such an insufferable little punk before entering the academy, but you don’t even realize it, huh? You have no shame.”
“……”
Meeting a noble who was this humble and down-to-earth was an unusual experience.

‘He’s… quite the odd one.’
The House of Offen wielded influence on par with the great noble houses, and yet, despite being the head of such a prestigious family, Iliad was remarkably polite, informal, and even humble.
Uncharacteristically so for a noble.

“Sir Turtle, if you don’t mind, could we speak for a moment? I understand this visit is merely ‘nominally’ a family visit, but I would like to hear how my son is doing at the academy.”
“…I have no objections.”
“Haha, I appreciate it.”

See? He actually expressed gratitude without wrapping it in layers of roundabout noble speech.
‘It’s been a while since talking to a noble didn’t give me a headache.’
There was something incredibly refreshing about not having to decode political double-speak.

Most nobles would likely consider Iliad a complete eccentric, but to Ihan, it only made him more likable.
…And, in another way, worthy of respect.
Ihan’s gaze turned thoughtful.

For some reason, Iliad struck him as admirable.
A mere knight shouldn’t be judging a noble house’s patriarch like this, but he couldn’t help it.
‘…He never put down his sword.’

Even though the man couldn’t use his legs, the hardened calluses on his hands were proof that he still practiced. How could Ihan not respect him?
‘This man…’
He had romance.

***
“I heard that Sir Turtle didn’t train in standard aura techniques but instead developed his own. To establish an entirely new school at your age… Genius hardly seems a strong enough word.”
“I wouldn’t call it establishing a school. It was just a matter of starting from a concept anyone could think of. Calling me a genius is far too generous.”

“Haha, and yet you’re modest as well. But be careful—excessive humility can make people find you insufferable. A little confidence wouldn’t hurt from time to time.”
“…I’m really not a genius.”
“Haah! That kind of humility is a curse in itself.”

“……”
Surprisingly, the two of them got along quite well.
Despite their age gap, differences in status, and entirely different life trajectories, they found common ground in the subject of the sword.

Well, mostly it was just Iliad praising Ihan while Ihan awkwardly deflected, but he still answered every question out of politeness.
“Your son already has the skills to be knighted. His biggest weakness right now is a lack of real combat experience. I could tell he’s hunted monsters before, but when it comes to fighting people, he’s still a bit inexperienced.”
“Hmm… Perhaps I raised him too gently?”

“If anything, you raised him well. I mean, who in their right mind would boast about teaching their son how to kill?”
“Haha, hearing you say that eases my mind.”
“In any case, what he needs now isn’t more training—it’s practical experience. If he’s serious about becoming a knight, then as unfortunate as it may be, early graduation might be worth considering.”

“…Even so, I think it’s better for him to stay. Rather than rushing into adulthood, I believe enjoying one’s youth a little longer can carry greater meaning in the long run.”
“That’s true. He is still young.”
“Hoho, and if possible, I’d like him to bring home a daughter-in-law when he graduates. A love marriage would be ideal, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He puts up a wall, but he’s actually quite popular with the female students. If he wanted, he could start working on giving you grandchildren right away.”
“Oh-ho!”
“…Instructor? Father?”

The thing about adults.
Even when the subject of their conversation was sitting right there, they didn’t care.
Arno, who had just become the center of discussion, wore an exasperated expression.
Seeing this, Kunta and Levi each patted his back in sympathy.

“Arno—no, Young Master, don’t take it too seriously. Adults are just like that. Kunta was almost made a father at twelve because of his tribe’s traditions. Had to run away for a year to avoid it.”
“…That’s supposed to be comforting?”
“More importantly, you really are popular, Arno. Some noble ladies from the fencing department have already started making arrangements for matchmaking next year.”

“N-Noble ladies?!”
It was like a scene straight out of a sitcom, but at the same time, it was undeniably warm.
The head maid, Elza, brought in fragrant herbal tea. The children laughed and chattered. The two men sat in friendly conversation.

A scene straight out of a fairy tale.
And Ihan found himself enjoying this sitcom-like, fairy tale-like peace.
If only life could always be like this.

…And so.
“That’s why I was thinking. Perhaps it would be a good idea to head toward the Red Eagle region to broaden—”
“…Lord Iliad.”

“Hm?”
“I apologize for interrupting, but I’m starting to feel really uneasy.”
“…What?”

“…Judging by your reaction, you really have no idea. So this isn’t something you orchestrated.”
“???”
Ihan had made up his mind.

If he was the only one not getting to enjoy this peace, then it was time to do something about it.
And, while he was at it, it wouldn’t hurt to shake off the overwhelming pressure that had been bearing down on him since earlier.
Iliad looked genuinely puzzled, as did the others.

They had no idea what Ihan was talking about.
Sighing, Ihan turned toward Arno, his expression unreadable.
Then, at last…

“…I’d appreciate it if you stopped exerting your presence, Elder. My neck and back are starting to burn.”
“…Instructor?”
“Or would you prefer I call you Lady instead, Elder?”

“……”
“Oh, but now that I think about it, considering your age, Lady might not be the most—”
[-What’s wrong with my age?]

A shrill vibration rang through the room.
Cracks formed in the furniture.
It was just a voice, and yet, it had the force of a high-frequency shockwave.

And Ihan—who had taken the full brunt of that shockwave—
Coughed violently.
Internal injuries.

“…Yes, yes. My apologies, Lady.”
Ihan immediately surrendered.
He had no desire to end up on the receiving end of another sonic attack.

And, perhaps because she appreciated how quickly he folded—
[Heh.]
The ‘Lady’—who had been disguised as Arno all this time—finally nodded in satisfaction.

[That’s better. Remember this, child. A woman’s age is sacred and must never be questioned.]
“I will never forget it.”
Felicia Gong.

Felicia de Offen, the Sword Saint.
One of the three Aura Masters of Pendragon, alongside Baltar and Albert.