30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 285

The once grim and dreary atmosphere of the military camp was suddenly filled with noise and excitement.

No, it wasn't just noise—it was brimming with vitality and energy. The hardened men, worn down by society, had all vanished, replaced by people with moist eyes, as if they had turned into sentimental poets overnight.

Knights, soldiers, and servants all shared a common trait: they held letters in their hands, reading them over and over again or clutching them to their chests as if they were treasures.

Some were even sniffing and sobbing outright, but no one mocked them for it.

Why? Because their own eyes were just as red.

One wrong word, and they'd all be bawling like children.

And the one responsible for this wave of emotion nodded knowingly, as if he had anticipated this reaction.

"Letters from family and lovers are the ultimate treasure for soldiers on deployment, no matter the country."

Just spending a month in boot camp, cut off from the outside world, could make a letter from home a lifelong memory.

Now, imagine being cut off for not just a month, but five years.

At that point, going insane wouldn’t even be surprising.

They’d miss their families, lovers, friends—hell, even the people they'd cut ties with would start feeling nostalgic.

Ihan had experienced this firsthand during his past life’s overseas deployments.

"Worth the trouble of delivering them."

The letters had been stored in a magically expanded artifact—a backpack capable of holding up to 700 kilograms.

It had been "acquired" from that spellcasting slave, no, professor bastard, and had one major drawback: it applied the full weight of its contents onto the user's body and was a one-time-use item.

Once emptied...

Psssshhh.

"It really does turn to dust."

The professor had ranted furiously at the time:

"Do you have any idea how much that thing costs, you bastard?! That’s a vital piece of military equipment! If it gets destroyed, I'll be dragged to court, you miserable—!"

But what did Ihan care?

"I used it for a good cause, so it’s fine."

That professor might get arrested and punished, but that wasn’t Ihan’s problem.

If anything, it was an honor for a spellcaster to be punished for a noble cause.

A glorious end for a mage.

He dusted off his hands.

Tap, tap.

"Hmm? What’s this?"

"Did I receive one?"

"?"

"Ah, my family is, of course, in the Citadel, but I have connections outside as well!"

"You do?"

"Of course!"

Felix looked expectantly at Ihan, as if it was obvious he would have received a letter. Ihan thought for a moment.

"What was your name again?"

"Felix de Mordred!"

"...Hmm. Don’t see anything for you."

"That’s impossible! My beloved Suzanne must have sent me one! She must have!"

"...Suzanne? You mean from the bakery?"

"You know her?!"

"Yeah. Patriot who gave birth to six kids."

"???"

"Her husband’s a handsome guy, too. Made me think, ‘So that’s what true love looks like.’ Also, their bread’s pretty good. Oh, and I heard that before she got married, some crazy bastard kept harassing her, telling her to 'bear his child' or something. That crazy bastard—was that you?"

"That was not harassment! That was a confession!!"

"......."

"She even wept in response to my love!"

"Uh... Are you sure those were tears of joy and not fear?"

"!!?"

"...What era do you think you’re living in?"

Seriously, why was this guy acting like a barbarian from the Stone Age?

No, even cavemen had better social skills than this.

Even barbarians raised in the wilderness had a sense of social order.

How the hell did someone who lived in a city turn out like this?

"...Are all Mordreds like this?"

"You’re mistaken."

"He is the exception."

"Please, do not judge House Mordred based on him. That man is a unique case."

"It’s true that our family has a bit of... madness due to the Sight, but nothing like this."

"......."

...They had sharp ears, too.

As Ihan greeted soldiers with a relaxed expression, a group of young men approached him.

"Not bad."

The oldest among them seemed to be in his mid-twenties, while some were still in their teens, yet they were all well-trained.

If they were to fight against the top three prodigies of the Swordsmanship Academy, they’d probably lose by a hair’s breadth. But that was not an insult.

If anything, it was impressive that these young men had reached that level already.

"They all look pretty normal. Maybe that guy really is just a mutation?"

"The greatest mystery of our family."

"How did someone like him end up in our bloodline? Seriously."

"...He’s not your son, is he?"

"He’s my second son’s child. My second son was frail but intelligent. His son, on the other hand, is insanely strong and insanely stupid. Life sure is strange, isn’t it? Haha."

"......."

There was a faint sadness in Garnok’s voice when he mentioned his second son.

Ihan didn’t ask why he wasn’t here.

Instead—

"So, are you here just to criticize me?"

"...Hm? What do you mean?"

"Not you, old man. Him. Don’t just slide up next to me like that. I let it slide since you don’t seem hostile, but if I get annoyed, who knows what might happen?"

It was time for a more productive conversation.

And the real person in charge had finally shown up.

...Though Ihan made sure to issue a small warning first.

"Father was right. You really are amusing."

A faint mirage shimmered in the air, and a man materialized.

He looked to be in his early twenties—handsome. No, pretty.

Calling a guy pretty might feel weird, but standing before him, there was no other word for it.

He had approached without a sound, without a scent, as if he had never existed until that very moment.

And yet, Ihan had sensed him.

"How did you find me? The spirits were hiding me."

"You were annoying."

"...Huh?"