Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 47: Attention

“This could lead to public opinion criticizing the heroes’ excessive force, so when subduing villains, prioritize staying out of sight…”

Mid-lecture, I checked the time.

Five minutes left.

Normally, I’d fill every second, but not today.

I closed my notebook.

“That’s it for today’s lecture.”

Despite declaring the end, the room stayed quiet.

The regular students calmly organized their notes, but the auditing students’ atmosphere was oddly charged.

Their gazes had shifted noticeably from the start of the lecture.

Initially, they looked at me with curiosity, like gawking at a celebrity.

Now, there was a hint of genuine respect.

It was a natural reaction, perhaps.

They’d come to the lecture hall on a whim, drawn by the sensational title of “a reformed villain professor praised by Se-ah.”

They hadn’t expected much from the content.

Even if the lecture was good, how useful could a different trait type’s class be?

Other departments’ lectures were rarely relevant—a common belief from their year at the academy.

But it didn’t take long to realize their mistake.

My lecture was indeed tailored for augmentation traits.

For the first five minutes, they weren’t particularly interested.

But as the lecture passed ten, then twenty minutes, they understood.

This was unlike any other academy lecture.

Though structured for augmentation, with a broader perspective, it was valuable for all heroes—awakened beings in general.

The only downside was the slightly illegal content, but for students used to rigid lectures, that was a plus.

Most professors, bound by high ethical standards, couldn’t teach this.

One thing was clear.

This lecture was unique to this room, this moment.

Perhaps because of that, despite starting at 9 a.m. on a Monday—a deadly time—no one dozed or lost focus.

Pocketing my notebook, I scanned the room.

“You lot.”

My gaze landed on the auditing students.

“If you plan to attend next week, you’ll have to pay the price.”

The students stirred. Surely, I wasn’t charging money?

They agreed my lecture was worth paying for, but it felt off.

Of course, I wasn’t that crazy.

“There’s an assignment due next week. You’ll do some of it too.”

The next lecture would focus on feedback and model answers for the assignment.

Without background knowledge, attending wouldn’t teach them anything.

It was the minimum requirement for gaining knowledge from the class.

The students seemed to accept this.

“The assignment details are on the website. Check it.”

Honestly, I had no reason to allow their auditing.

They weren’t registered students.

Even if they became A- or S-rank heroes, it wouldn’t count as my achievement or reduce my sentence.

But—

“Once you’ve learned from me, even once, you’re my students. You have no obligations, but I have a responsibility. I won’t half-ass teach you. If you have questions, ask freely. That’s all.”

With a serious expression, I added.

“Regular students, stay for announcements.”

The auditors left, and the lecture hall returned to its usual quiet.

Finally able to breathe, I sighed and tapped the podium.

“There are two announcements. First, we’re choosing a class leader.”

The students looked startled.

They’d grown so used to Da-yeon and Ye-jin alternating as class leader that they’d forgotten about voting.

“Despite the unfortunate incident, over the past month, including the MT, you’ve seen how those two performed. I don’t know, so let’s see the evaluation through a vote.”

But before the vote, Ye-jin raised her hand.

“I’d like to withdraw.”

I looked at her, puzzled.

It wasn’t like she had no chance.

At the semester’s start, she was too busy with part-time jobs to have friends, but thanks to me, she’d become a work-study student and built some connections.

Her odds were about fifty-fifty.

I asked curiously.

“Why?”

“I don’t think I’m ready.”

She’d wanted the role, but during the MT, she realized Da-yeon was better suited for it.

“Alright.”

I nodded readily.

It wasn’t a whim—she’d realized something more important.

Pressing her further would be wrong.

Turning to Da-yeon, who was blinking blankly, I said briefly.

“Applause for the new… no, the class leader.”

Hopefully “new” didn’t mean “slave.”

Everyone clapped, thinking as much.

Da-yeon, oblivious to her “slave” status, basked in the joy of becoming class leader.

She’d prepared speeches and such for the election, but the result was good, so it didn’t matter.

I added casually.

“And you're the vice-leader.”

“Huh?”

“There’s gotta be a vice-leader too. Applause for the vice-leader.”

Honestly, I’d planned to use whoever was elected this way.

Two people to boss around were better than one.

“And one more minor announcement.”

Minor, compared to the class leader election?

The students waited for my next words without much tension.

“There’s a midterm.”

Not minor at all.

Everyone tensed up.

The class had been so eventful they’d forgotten, but it was time to prepare.

Thankfully, since I emphasized practical skills, they assumed the exam would be practical too.

After several real-world experiences, they were confident.

But—

“The exam will be written.”

I betrayed their expectations twice in a moment.

“It’ll present scenarios a hero might face, and you’ll write the correct responses. About five questions.”

Someone asked earnestly?

“Not a practical exam?”

“No need. An exam is an evaluation, and I’ve already seen your skills at the MT. Unless you’re confident you can show significant improvement in two weeks.”

To me, midterms weren’t that important.

They were no different from the regular practical lectures.

I’d rather grade their usual scores and teach, but the system was a hassle.

“Last chance for questions?”

* * *

With the midterm announcement, the lecture ended.

The students left, but Da-yeon stayed seated.

She stood slowly and approached me.

“Professor.”

“Talking after class means it’s personal, right?”

“…Yes.”

She pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket.

She’d prepared it before the MT but hadn’t found a chance to speak alone with me.

Or rather, in those moments, there was no room for such minor matters.

“We’re starting a club, but we need a faculty advisor.”

“You want me to do it?”

“Yes.”

I took the paper with a wry expression.

A new club application.

Clington was still an educational institution.

It had dozens of clubs.

School memories were valuable, so I had no reason to view it negatively.

Reading the application, I asked?

“What kind of club? It’d help if I had some expertise in it.”

I could play instruments, but I wasn’t confident in other cultural activities.

If it was just lending my name, that’d be meddling, but still.

As if waiting for the question, Da-yeon pointed to the club’s name.

“Villain Trait Analysis and Trend Study Club. While researching the assignment you gave, I realized it was more educational than I thought. So, even after submitting, we’ll pick a villain each week, analyze their traits and activities, and study countermeasures.”

I let out a strange smile.

It reminded me of what I used to do.

Though back then, as a villain, I analyzed S-rank heroes.

The essence was similar.

“Good concept. But hold on.”

I pulled out my phone and called the dean.

As a half-baked professor, I had to check my authority for these things.

Promising something only to find out it’s not allowed would be embarrassing.

The dean answered quickly, and I explained.

[If it’s that, neither the academy nor the association would object. Do as you like.]

“Great.”

After the call, I pointed to a blank on the form.

“Just sign here?”

“Yes! Here and here.”

Before signing, I read the application carefully.

They’d met the minimum five members, all familiar names—my students, naturally, like a set menu.

The surprise was Ye-jin’s name at the end.

I’ll ask her about that later.

Twirling my pen, I said.

“Activities are Fridays at 5 p.m., and the club’s near my office.”

“Yes, it was the only available room.”

With her family’s influence, she could’ve secured a private space, but she chose near my office.

If our paths crossed, I might drop by.

I nodded and finished signing.

Da-yeon tucked the application away like a treasure, bowing deeply.

“Alright.”

“Oh, and…”

Straightening, she glanced at me cautiously.

The club was fine to push boldly, but this topic was trickier.

But avoiding it could cause problems later.

“You were in a bit of danger, right…?”

“Yeah, I nearly got fired.”

“Well, about that…”

She licked her lips, rubbing her clasped fingers nervously.

“I told my family.”

The class’s petition, just 40 signatures, couldn’t sway the academy’s opinion.

Only a force as strong could overturn a powerful decision.

And the backing of the number-one S-rank fit that perfectly.

After much deliberation, she swallowed her pride and asked her family for help.

I furrowed my brow.

This could spiral into the worst-case scenario.

Swordmaster was one of the few heroes who knew my face.

And it wasn’t just knowing.

We’d clashed physically once.

As the victor, I didn’t care much, but I had no idea how the loser felt.

If he still saw me as an archenemy…

That’d be a problem.

I couldn’t exactly kill a student’s family, could I?

“Did the Swordmaster intervene?”

“No. He wouldn’t care about my request anyway.”

At least so far, that’s how it’d been, and likely would be.

“But I thought I should tell you, just in case.”

“Better than being blindsided. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“It didn’t do much.”

I covered my mouth, thinking.

If Swordmaster took even a slight interest, things could get messy.

I’d need to look into this, even if it meant pulling strings.

But outwardly, I shrugged calmly.

“There are school rules. What could happen?”

* * *

After the brief meeting, I stepped out of the lecture hall to find a man blocking the door.

A short beard and a long scar on his cheek. His gaze was openly hostile.

“Who’s blocking my classroom like that?”

Feeling his blatant hostility, my response was sharp.

He pulled out an ID, his precise movements matching his stern appearance.

He could pass for a soldier without question.

“Hero Association Headquarters, Anti-Villain Management Department. Legal Department, Team 3. I’m replacing Han So-hee as your overseer.”

I frowned.

Headquarters, huh?

This is gonna be a hassle.