Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 58: Omen (2)

“Man.”

Ho-cheol, leaning an elbow on the sofa’s armrest, his head tilted with his chin resting on his hand, muttered with a light sigh.

“Feels like I’m clocking in here more often than the classroom.”

The dean’s office.

Sure, there was the perk of getting expensive brand name coffee and fancy snacks you’d rarely see outside, but it wasn’t enough to outweigh the hassle.

“I wish you’d stop coming here so often too.”

The dean felt the same way.

Ho-cheol himself was always irritating enough to warrant a smack, and his frequent visits were proof some incident had occurred.

Thankfully, today was just a continuation of unresolved matters from their last meeting.

But first, there was something to address.

Crossing his arms, the dean glared at Ho-cheol.

“You caused quite a scene. For someone carrying the title of a Clington professor to say such things.”

Ho-cheol waved his left hand dismissively, as if tired of hearing it.

“Ugh, I already got an earful and a few punches for that. Let’s move on.”

“Hm, seems Professor Seong Se-ah’s keeping you in check.”

The dean nodded, satisfied.

“That’s some way to phrase it, like I’m a walking disaster.”

“It’s a good thing. Going from villain to ‘disaster’ is progress.”

The dean placed a coffee cup in front of Ho-cheol.

“Be grateful it ended at that. If any students had dropped out because of your words, what then?

Do you know how many complaints from other professors came in over that one remark?”

“Ignore them. If someone had to say it, better me than anyone else.”

The dean, sitting on the sofa opposite Ho-cheol, asked?

“By the way, have you seen the news?”

“What, the breakout?”

Ho-cheol sighed, leaning back against the sofa.

“How could I not? Turn on the news, and it’s all about that.”

After the villain attack, the academy returned to a peaceful routine.

But the outside world was different.

The chaos, which should’ve subsided over time, only intensified.

Unsatisfied with their initial strike, the organization had since attacked all six villain detention facilities in the country.

Naturally, the facilities collapsed, and all imprisoned villains escaped.

Unlike Zero—Chain, most were C- and D-Class small-timers, and nearby heroes swiftly recaptured over half, but it wasn’t enough.

Their numbers reached into the thousands.

To ordinary citizens, a hundred B-Class villains were a greater threat than ten A-Class ones.

As a result, public opinion tanked further, and the Association was not just scrambling but drowning in a pit of fire.

The only silver lining was that the frenzy over investigating The Sun had died down due to the sheer scale of the crisis.

Ho-cheol reached for the coffee cup on the table.

“Heroes are the ones dropping like flies.”

He summed up the situation tersely and took a sip.

“What’s their goal? I can’t get a read on it.”

Unlike Ho-cheol, who treated the Association and heroes as someone else’s problem, the dean wasn’t pleased with the situation.

His sense of duty as a former hero, plus personal reasons, weighed on him.

Even retired, he had close ties with several active heroes.

He wasn’t the type to just watch his friends suffer.

He urged Ho-cheol with a hint of impatience.

“Use that villain brain of yours and figure it out.”

“Well, I don’t have enough info to say definitively what the answer is.”

After a moment’s thought, Ho-cheol set the cup down and broke a cookie in half.

“This latest stunt doesn’t seem like just flexing their power. The only thing that comes to mind is…”

He stacked the halves and broke them again, creating four pieces, picking one up.

“Causing social chaos.”

But if that were the goal, the execution was sloppy.

At the very least, they should’ve blocked the heroes who came to clean up.

Given the organization’s shown strength, they could’ve hindered heroes enough to let all escapees, not just half, loose on society.

Calculating for a moment, Ho-cheol shook his head.

“Nah, not that.”

He popped the cookie piece into his mouth.

Picking up a second piece, he said.

“Overloading heroes’ workloads.”

But that was similar to the first and just as unlikely.

If they’d attacked heroes directly, maybe, but the organization trashed the prisons and fled before heroes arrived.

He ate the second piece too.

Holding a third piece, he paused.

“Collapsing detention facilities?”

That painted a clearer picture.

They had, after all, destroyed every villain prison.

The escapees were just a byproduct, which explained their lack of interest.

But he couldn’t find a reason for the destruction to be the goal.

There was no clear benefit.

Villain prisons weren’t the only jails in the country.

Once the situation stabilized and new prisons were built, escapees could be managed in regular jails.

The third piece disappeared into his mouth without hesitation.

Staring at the final piece, Ho-cheol muttered.

“Not the escapees, heroes, citizens, or facilities. There’s a clear goal, though…”

He furrowed his brow, rubbing his chin with a bent index finger.

“Any escapees join the organization?”

“A dozen or so, but yes.”

“…Looking for useful traits?”

The fourth possibility finally felt worth considering.

Unlike the earlier ones, which the dean listened to silently, he reacted.

“Selecting specific escapees? To recruit them?”

It wasn’t cost-effective, but not unusable either.

Villain prisons were, after all, a talent pool for villain organizations.

But Ho-cheol shook his head.

“Not recruits—the traits themselves. Ones they can use.”

The organization’s new boss had a trait that granted others new traits.

Vulture and Breaker’s states proved it. Despite the side effects, plenty were mad enough for power to ignore the risks.

Where did those new traits come from?

It was clear.

Trait transfer—or rather, transplantation.

That explained their indifference to escapees, their swift retreat after destroying facilities, and their lack of interest in confronting heroes.

Even C- and D-Class villains, though weak from lack of training, often had exceptional traits.

After his explanation, the dean nodded in agreement.

“That’s more plausible than the others. But…”

Even knowing their goal, responding was tricky.

“How would you handle it?”

“If that’s their real aim, they won’t stop at villains. They’ll likely collect traits elsewhere too. The best move is bait.”

“Bait?”

The term made the hero dean uneasy, but he listened quietly. Interrupting and upsetting Ho-cheol would only hurt him.

“Set out a rare trait. Something so tempting they’d touch it even knowing it’s a trap.”

Ho-cheol trailed off, thinking.

A strong person’s trait wouldn’t do—it could be the result of training or experience.

Take the dean: despite his strength, his trait was honestly lackluster.

“Your gaze is pretty disrespectful.”

Ho-cheol looked away, racking his memory.

Since his release, the rarest and most exceptional trait he’d seen…

Just then, So-hee returned from the bathroom, plopping down beside him.

Seeing the table, she lit up.

“Oh, can I have this?”

She grabbed the last cookie piece and ate it.

Ho-cheol’s gaze shifted to her.

Feeling his stare, So-hee mumbled through her chewing.

“…What?”

But Ho-cheol just stared, his gaze so intense it felt hot.

So-hee sensed something was off.

“Hey, it’s just one cookie—you don’t have to glare like that. Did it fall on the floor or something?”

Ho-cheol sighed.

“Nah, too naive.”

“And too weak individually. With so little info on the transfer conditions, the risk is too high for bait.”

“That sounded really ominous. What’s going on?!”

Ignoring So-hee’s protests, they continued.

“Better to dig into those idiots first.”

The dean knew who Ho-cheol meant: Breaker and Vulture.

Once his subordinates, they were now detained, under study to see if they could revert to normal.

If they did, Ho-cheol could easily make them talk, revealing the boss’s trait details.

“So, waiting’s the best move?”

“What else can heroes do?”

Their pattern was rare even in Ho-cheol’s villain database.

They weren’t driven by profit or clear ideology, yet their actions weren’t simplistic either.

With so little information, a clear answer was hard to pin down.

Honestly, running an organization so haphazardly should’ve led to collapse.

The only reason it hadn’t was one thing.

The leader’s overwhelming power outweighed all their flaws.

* * *

Days later, So-hee, finishing a call, blinked in surprise.

“Wow, they actually approved it?”

“Yup.”

Ho-cheol, leaning against Bbi Bbi, nodded casually.

An outing.

He’d requested a day trip through So-hee, and the Association approved it with conditions.

The pre-reported destination and schedule, no unauthorized contact, So-hee’s supervision, and a handwritten report upon return.

Normally, such a request would be unthinkable, but these were abnormal times.

With heroes stretched thin maintaining precarious order, any move by the organization or escaped S-Class villains could paralyze society.

The Association desperately wanted The Sun’s case resolved, and Ho-cheol’s cooperation was their least costly option.

This request was a small price for future negotiations.

Of course, Ho-cheol had no intention of accepting their deal just for this.

They’d annoyed him plenty—he’d milk them for all he could.

“Heading out now?”

“Yup.”

He opened the passenger door.

* * *

They arrived at the Hero National Cemetery.

Unlike last time, So-hee parked at the entrance, and Ho-cheol got out alone.

This time, he held a single flower.

He hadn’t planned to buy one, but So-hee insisted it was rude to visit empty-handed, nagging until he gave in.

Fiddling with the flower, he walked toward the grave but stopped short.

In the distance, a familiar figure was there.

Long white hair reaching her waist, at the exact grave he was visiting.

Choi Da-yeon crouched, wiping dust off the tombstone.

Her hair swayed gently with each movement.

He deliberately made noise with his footsteps.

Only then did Da-yeon turn around.

“P-Professor!”

Spotting him, she jumped up, startled, hiding the handkerchief behind her back.

Sweat beaded on her forehead.

It was a rare—no, unprecedented—reaction from her. Ho-cheol chuckled and walked past her to the grave.

The grave, long unvisited, should’ve been neglected, but it was pristine, as if regularly maintained.

The tombstone gleamed like it’d just been polished.

Shifting his gaze to Da-yeon, he asked?

“You know them too?”

Da-yeon looked down, unable to answer or meet his eyes.

After hesitating, she gripped the handkerchief tightly and replied.

“No…”

No excuse came to mind to dodge the situation.

“I’m sorry. I saw you come here last time.”

“Is that so?”

Da-yeon hurriedly explained.

She’d come to pay respects and spotted Ho-cheol but felt the mood wasn’t right to approach, so she watched from afar—not stalking or investigating him.

After her explanation, Ho-cheol scratched the back of his head.

He’d been in rough shape last time.

Still, to miss a student’s presence entirely?

Interpreting his silence, Da-yeon apologized again in a small voice.

“…I’m sorry.”

Snapping out of it, Ho-cheol waved it off.

“Nah, nothing wrong with that. Don’t worry about it.”

He pointed at the grave.

“They loved people, so they’d be happy someone else visited.”

His gaze fell on the bouquet already there.

“Not sure if they liked flowers, but it’s nice you took care of it. No need to feel bad.”

“Okay…”

Da-yeon sighed inwardly in relief.

The situation had seemed dire, but his reaction made her feel she’d scored points.

Ho-cheol looked up at the sky silently.

The noon sun blazed fiercely, with no shade in sight.

He wiped sweat from his forehead.

Kneeling on one knee, he placed the flower at the grave.

Da-yeon, watching from a step back, cautiously asked?

“What… was your relationship?”

“Hm. My lifesaver.”

Da-yeon, staring at him, clenched her fist with a determined look.

“Professor.”

She seemed ready to say something resolute, but Ho-cheol cut her off.

“Now that I think about it, you need a penalty for secretly tailing me.”

Da-yeon stiffened, standing ramrod straight.

He’d let it slide, hadn’t he?

A penalty out of nowhere?

It was the first time he’d used such a term, and she froze.

But his next words and actions made her tension seem foolish.

He pulled out his wallet and handed her a few bills.

“Here, buy three ice creams at the convenience store.”

Was there even a store nearby?

The closest convenience store or mart was at least a ten-minute drive, and the car that brought her was an hour away on another errand.

Walking would take hours.

Ho-cheol pointed at a parked car in the distance—Bbi Bbi.

“See that junker? Take it. Explain the situation, and they’ll drive you.”

“Oh, okay.”

Three ice creams?

There must be someone else in the car.

At least she wouldn’t have to walk.

She hurried off.

As Da-yeon left in Bbi Bbi, Ho-cheol was alone in the cemetery. Glancing at the hotter sky, he lowered his gaze to the grave.

He muttered.

“So.”

But this time, he wasn’t speaking to the grave.

“I should return the question you asked me ten years ago.”

Step—step—

Footsteps approached from behind, stopping beside him.

Two people stood side by side before the grave.

A brief silence passed.

Ho-cheol broke it first.

“Where do you think you are, and who do you think you are, showing your face so brazenly?”

He turned his head to look.

Short-cropped gray hair, fiery red eyes.

How could he forget, even after nearly a decade?

“Well? Former hero.”

The man beside him, The Sun, stared silently at the grave.