The Great Sage Wants to Die C34

Chapter 34

It’s ridiculous to say, but before I’d lived this long, I used to miss Korea a little.
Even though I’d spent far more years on the Epenheim Continent than I ever had in Korea, that homesickness lingered.

People say humans have an instinctive desire to return to their birthplace.
Maybe that was it.

Even after becoming immortal, I kept searching—whenever an opportunity arose—for a way back to Korea.
I knew it was pointless, but for about a hundred years, I just couldn’t stop.

But once I passed two hundred, I gave up entirely.
Sometimes I missed modern conveniences, sometimes my parents—but even if I did go back now, it wasn’t certain they’d still be alive.

And even if they were alive… would it be the Korea I remembered?
Would the people I loved still remember me? Still exist?

Realistically, there was no method to return.
I truly tried everything, but nothing worked.

If this was both an isekai leap and a book possession, then maybe—just maybe—I could return once The Book of Irkus ended.
But the issue was that I didn’t know where the ending was.
That’s what happens when you only ever read volume one.
I should’ve at least flipped through all seventeen volumes, even if I didn’t read the middle.

Once I cleanly abandoned the idea of returning to Korea, my mind finally settled.
Eventually, even my mother’s face grew blurry in my memory.
What remained was only one hope:
that my parents and friends weren’t too devastated by my death.

I was doing fine here—
well, alive in a sense—and hopefully they wouldn’t grieve too deeply for a son who, unbeknownst to them, couldn’t even die anymore.

So, aside from that maternity hospital somewhere in Seoul…
my only remaining “hometown” was the central fountain in the imperial garden of the Robein Palace.

I had been wandering through the secret passageways, checking them one by one, when at some point, I found myself back in the palace garden.
Whoever designed these palaces must’ve lived a chaotic life—creating hidden tunnels branching in all directions must’ve been exhausting.

My joints aching, I sat heavily on a wooden bench in the garden.
And there it was—right before my eyes—
the very fountain I had crashed into the moment I first transmigrated here.

That fountain had survived such a long time.
Four centuries had passed since I arrived.
Even government workers in charge of palace renovations must’ve revamped the place multiple times, yet somehow the fountain survived every restructuring.

It was nothing more than architecture, but seeing that old fountain again felt strangely nostalgic.
It had been ages since I’d seen it this close, not since my days as a palace magician.

Up close, the small decorative carvings had changed, but the fountain’s overall shape was nearly identical to when I first fell into this world.

I stared blankly at the water bubbling upward.
Why did I have to fall right there?
If only this world had given me a brief audience-with-the-creator event while getting hit by the truck, maybe I could’ve negotiated my starting point.

Palace attendants hurried past.
It wasn’t unusual for me to roam around and get in their way, but sitting for hours on a bench, spacing out at a fountain, was unusual.
They must’ve thought something was seriously wrong.

I turned my head toward one young attendant who was openly sneaking glances at me.

The moment our eyes met, the attendant flinched like he’d committed a mortal sin and bowed deeply.
Anyone would think I was Medusa—do these kids believe making eye contact with me will turn them to stone? They dodge faster than cockroaches fleeing light.

“Hey. You—come here.”

I beckoned at him like a school bully motioning to an unlucky student.
I wasn’t planning to extort him; I just had a question.

“M-me?”

“Yeah. You.”

The attendant immediately broke into a cold sweat.

Seeing him so terrified made me feel a bit guilty… and a bit curious.
Even if I was the Great Sage, I wasn’t the type to shout “oh look, a human—die!” and fire off spells at random.
So why was he this scared?

“If I call you, move faster. You were staring at me earlier. Don’t pretend you’re busy—you’re not fooling anyone.”

Honestly, if someone immortal suddenly told me to come over when I was his age, I would’ve panicked too.

The attendant looked ready to cry but obediently approached.
Hierarchy and power always win, no matter the world.

“Aish, look at me talking like an old palace bureaucrat. Relax—I’m not here to scold you. I just want to ask something. So lift your head.”

“Y-yes…”

“Has anyone fallen into this central fountain recently?”

“…A person, sir?”

The attendant gave me a strange look, sweat still dripping.
Judging by that “what are you talking about?” expression, no other unfortunate modern Korean had been isekai’d through this sky in the last 400 years.

Somehow, that irritated me.
Of all people, I had been the only one to fall from the sky for four centuries.

Who would read a 17-volume fantasy novel like The Book of Irkus the night before their CSAT?
I was clearly chosen because I was an idiot.

“Alright. Go on.”

The attendant left in a hurry, still looking at me like he wasn’t sure whether I was the real Great Sage or not.

I turned back to the fountain.
Suddenly, I felt a little hollow.
Dormant nostalgia I’d ignored for centuries crept up again.

“…Why am I living like this, seriously…”

If only I hadn’t read The Book of Irkus that night.
If only I had just memorized English vocabulary like a normal student and died on the way to the exam.
I would’ve died young, but at least I wouldn’t be stuck with immortality.
I wouldn’t have had to feel this lonely—this impossibly alone.

I stayed on that bench until late into the night, staring at the fountain.
The unwelcome return of humanity and sentimentality—
truly the worst sensation.

??????

“Hey. Why are you following me?”

Unbelievable. Pretending not to notice was pointless at this rate.

I turned around to face Tristan, who’d been tailing me at an obvious distance.

These idiots.
I told them to guard Irkus, and what happens?
Robert goes with Irkus, and Tristan trails after me.
A mercenary captain, he says? He’s stealing wages at this point.

“Wait, wait—stop the magic! I can explain—”

“Explain while leaving a will.”

“I said stop! I’ve got a lion-like wife waiting for me back in Kaman!”

If that man didn’t have a wife and kid, I would’ve yanked out all his hair on the spot.
But thinking of Isolde’s sake, I refrained from making him bald or impotent.
I settled for beating him up a little.

“Unbelievable. What’s your problem? Short on gallant spirit?”

“No— agh! Seriously, stop hitting me!”

“Don’t raise your voice. What did you even do right? Fine. Did Irkus tell you to keep an eye on me?”

“…”

“…Are you kidding me? Seriously? Why? What did I do wrong?”

Tristan, who clearly had never been friends with lying, tripped immediately over the simplest bait.

These guys will get scammed into bankruptcy if Hanneman ever leaves their side.
To ruin the Red Hawk Mercenary Corps, all you’d need to do is steal Hanneman away.

“Is Irkus worried I might betray him and join… Radan… or whatever-his-name-is?”

“You? After seeing the First Prince’s face? You’d never tolerate that. So probably not.”

“Then why the surveillance?”

“I dunno. Irkus told me to, so I did.”

Such a terrible liar, yet annoyingly loyal.
Even if I beat him another dozen times, he wouldn’t reveal Irkus’s real reason.

On one hand, that loyalty meant he’d be truly useful to Irkus someday.
On the other hand, I was the one paying him, and he didn’t even know who his real employer was.
Infuriating.

I almost summoned a lightning strike, but exhaustion overtook my irritation.
With a sigh, I dropped onto the garden bench.
Tristan sat beside me cautiously, like he was checking if I’d explode.

“So… why are you staring at the fountain these days?”

It was Tristan asking, but really it was Irkus asking.

I rolled my eyes, ready to snap, “I’m not staring,”
but then Irkus’s expression—his quiet sadness—floated into my mind.

“…Because this is my hometown.”

“The central fountain?”

“Yeah. My starting point is here.”

Tristan’s face twisted into total confusion.
Who wouldn’t be baffled?
People are born everywhere, but hardly anyone is “born” in an imperial palace fountain.

“If I die this time… I want everything to end.”

“Great Sage, you say things I can’t understand.”

“Then don’t understand. Just listen.”

“That’s not a conversation. I’m not some wooden puppet.”

“Your intuition’s worse than a wooden puppet though.”

While Tristan sputtered, offended, I let out a small laugh.
For some reason, it wouldn’t stop.
Nothing was funny, and yet I was laughing.

“You’re going to snitch all this to Irkus, right?”

“…You make it impossible not to feel awkward.”

“Then tell him this too:
don’t look too deeply.
My past is 400 years long. You could trail me forever and still learn nothing.”

Tristan frowned, wounded.
As if he were Irkus—shock written across his face.

“Great Sage… if that’s how it is, at least treat Irkus better.”

“Mind your own business.”

“You’re cruel, you know that?”

“There are pasts that can’t be shared with anyone.”

No matter how much Irkus pries,
I can never tell him that I died in another world and woke up here.

Nor can I say:

“You’re just the protagonist of a novel I once read.
You would’ve become emperor even without me.”