30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 62

Shocking Statement!

Was chick number two actually a villainess?

Even Ihan, who rarely found himself truly surprised, was momentarily taken aback by this revelation. Not just anyone, but—

'That fragile girl is supposed to be a mid-boss?'

More than anything, it was the idea of her being a mid-boss that shocked him. This was someone who seemed like she could be defeated with a mere flick. Even an assassin would have countless ways to eliminate her easily.

'What use could she possibly serve?'

...Perhaps she was just an event boss?

It made some sense. Magic users were often best suited for event-related purposes.

As Ihan's expression twisted with disdain for magic users—something quite in line with his usual bias—Derrick, the status window user, began to panic. Seeing Ihan's changing expression, Derrick hurriedly blurted out what sounded like a desperate excuse.

"I-I mean, that was just in the past. Or maybe I misunderstood her entirely. Please don't take it too seriously!"

"Your excuse makes it sound even more like you're trying to stir things up."

"...I realized that as soon as I said it."

Regardless of what Derrick said, the seeds of suspicion had already been planted in Ihan's mind. Though Derrick was fretting over the misunderstanding, Ihan was quietly piecing together new information.

‘...This situation is getting more amusing by the minute.’

The status window user, Derrick, didn't know the real truth.

‘He doesn’t realize that chick number two is a transmigrator.’

Why else would he bring up Irene's name so suddenly? Clearly, it was because the Irene Wendler he knew was different from the one before him now. But despite having the cheat-like "status" skill at his disposal, Derrick had failed to realize why Irene had changed.

This hinted at two significant possibilities.

‘One, the skill’s functionality is more limited than I thought, and two, it likely has a lengthy cooldown.’

In short, balance. If the skill was too overpowered, there had to be limitations, like a long cooldown, which could explain why Derrick didn’t know about the "new" Irene.

That seemed the most plausible explanation.

‘So this guy came to me before tracking down a regressor or transmigrator?’

Ihan couldn't help but find this amusing. What did this kid see in a mere instructor to waste his precious skill on him?

‘Chick number two and that arrogant black-haired noble... they’re all strange in their own ways.’

Everyone around him seemed odd.

The question-and-answer session between Ihan and Derrick continued.

“D-Did you meet Lord Roen too?”

“We first met at the academy. Before that, we had no connection.”

“I see...”

“Why? Do you know that arrogant black-haired boy too?”

“Still, is it okay to refer to the Duke's son like that?”

“If he acts arrogant, what else should I call him?”

“Hmm...”

Derrick scratched his cheek, shaking his head as if to say Ihan was unbelievably reckless. But even so, he continued to answer honestly.

“...The Lord Roen I know should be in the North right now. It’s a critical time for him to cement his position as the Duke’s heir.”

“But isn’t he the youngest son and a bastard at that?”

“That doesn’t matter. In Lionel, what’s important is bloodline and a noble soul. If someone meets those criteria, they can be considered a successor. Right now, there’s a fierce power struggle for the Duke’s seat. If Lord Roen stays in the capital, it’s essentially a declaration that he’s forfeiting his claim.”

“He’ll sort it out later.”

“...But he’s the Duke’s heir. Isn’t it a bit too easy to assume?”

“If someone with his abilities loses the position, it just means that’s his limit.”

“You’re quite blunt, aren’t you?”

“I’m just stating the truth. You, on the other hand, seem overly concerned with things that don’t involve you.”

“...I just think it’s a waste.”

“What’s a waste?”

“Well, it’s just...”

“Haha, alright, keep it to yourself.”

“...Okay.”

From Derrick’s reaction and the information gathered so far, Ihan could deduce the broader picture.

‘In the original setting of this world, chick number two was supposed to be a villainess, and that black-haired boy was supposed to become the Duke of the North, but somewhere, things went off track.’

Based on Derrick’s response and the information Ihan had pieced together, the discrepancies between what Derrick knew and the current reality hinted at a deeper mystery.

‘So, in Derrick’s knowledge, neither chick number two was a transmigrator, nor was the black-haired noble a regressor.’

There were differences in the world’s state, but the deviations weren’t so severe as to alter everything. This concept reminded Ihan of something.

‘Wasn’t this called the multiverse?’

A concept he had encountered in movies. It was an interesting idea, but to Ihan, it wasn’t all that important.

‘I guess that’s possible.’

He didn’t dwell on it further. His primary concern had been to gather information about potential complications in the future, not to unravel multiverse theories.

"Let’s wrap it up here."

“...What?”

“The debate seems to be ending. There’s no point in continuing this conversation.”

“.......”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“...A-Aren’t you going to ask anything else?”

“What would I ask?”

“.......”

Derrick’s expression turned blank with bewilderment.

‘...Who is this person?’

Derrick realized that despite their long conversation, it wasn’t really a question-and-answer session. Ihan had asked only a few, simple questions.

‘He just listened.’

Ihan's questions were minimal, and they were mostly trivial things like teasing about Derrick’s relationship with "Purple Hair," or why Derrick, who knew high-level combat techniques, was in the History Department instead of the Swordsmanship Department.

It felt more like a friendly older brother giving advice than a proper interrogation. Derrick couldn’t help but feel—

‘I ended up spilling all the weird questions.’

Why did he ask about Irene Wendler and Lord Roen? And why did he reveal his skill and even mention the temple? It was absurd.

‘I must be insane.’

What possessed him to ask such suspicious questions? It was as if he were begging to be found out as a shady person.

But what was even stranger than his own behavior was—

‘He never once looked at me with suspicion.’

This man, Ihan, was more peculiar than Derrick. Throughout their entire conversation, Ihan had listened to Derrick seriously, nodding along without any hint of doubt.

Suspicion? None.

Even when Derrick mentioned high-ranking nobles and their complicated power struggles, Ihan didn’t dismiss his words as nonsense or a plot to stir trouble.

It was baffling.

Cough.