Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 59: Omen (3)

Could there be a coincidence this absurd?

An entirely unexpected encounter in an entirely unexpected place.

“The great and mighty hero, The Sun, now a villain. How ironic. Back in the day, you were foaming at the mouth to kill me. Look at you now.”

Despite Ho-cheol’s sarcasm, no response came.

The Sun merely stared at the grave with hollow eyes.

Ho-cheol shrugged.

When The Sun was like this, even a bomb going off nearby wouldn’t make him flinch.

Of course, if a villain were around, he’d snap to attention—but that was back when he was a hero.

Ho-cheol glanced at the watch on his left wrist.

As expected, an X appeared over the communication mark.

His phone showed no signal either.

The Sun’s trait was tied directly to the sun itself.

Emitting intense heat was one thing, but jamming communications was child’s play for him.

As a hero, he’d restrain himself due to dozens of daily civilian complaints, but now, pursued by the Association, he likely kept it active constantly.

The Association would notice the communication blackout and send someone.

Given the distance, maybe fifteen minutes.

Beyond that, The Sun possessed a slew of extraordinary abilities.

The sheer number of additional powers tied to a single trait was outright cheating.

Ho-cheol wiped sweat from his forehead and looked up.

As expected, the sun burned fiercer than before, incinerating the sparse clouds.

This omen had tipped him off to The Sun’s arrival.

It wasn’t for nothing that he’d fabricated a penalty or sent Da-yeon and So-hee away for ice cream.

If the worst-case scenario he anticipated unfolded, even Ho-cheol wasn’t sure he could protect them.

The Sun’s mere presence warped the environment.

Once the pinnacle S-Class hero of the nation, he’d driven Ho-cheol to the brink of death multiple times.

Without a doubt, The Sun was the strongest adversary Ho-cheol had ever faced.

Ho-cheol muttered irritably.

“Hot as hell.”

But no matter how formidable, Ho-cheol had no intention of backing down.

Neither harbored specific intentions.

They stood close enough to touch, yet the mere proximity strained the space around them.

Rumble—

The air between them shimmered.

A distortion starting at a single point grew, emitting a dangerous hum as it expanded.

But just before it could touch the grave, both suppressed their auras simultaneously, as if by unspoken agreement.

Ho-cheol found it surprising.

He’d assumed The Sun, now a villain who’d killed countless others in Zero—Chain, was consumed by madness.

Yet he retained some discernment.

Several more minutes passed in silence.

Still fixated on the grave, The Sun finally spoke.

“Her final moments. How did it end?”

Ho-cheol knew exactly what he meant.

Hands behind his back, he replied calmly.

“Like always. Believing in people’s goodness, hoping for tomorrow, and smiling. Until the very end.”

“Is that so? As expected.”

Caught off guard by the question, Ho-cheol scratched the back of his head.

“You two must’ve been close.”

He hadn’t expected The Sun to visit this grave.

Back when they were active, they were both too busy with hero work to interact.

To take time after escaping to come here—they must’ve been closer than he thought.

But The Sun immediately denied it.

“We weren’t close. But to confirm a hero’s conviction and spirit, there’s no better place. If my heart doesn’t waver here, it never will.”

“Is that so?”

Ho-cheol scratched his head, slightly thrown.

The Sun’s demeanor was completely different from what he’d expected.

Based on the information, he’d initially thought The Sun had gone mad.

Seeing him rein in his power suggested some rationality remained.

But this conversation confirmed it.

He was lucid, entirely in his right mind.

Unchanged from his hero days.

“Hah, man…”

That made him all the more dangerous.

For a hero with such unwavering justice to not just quit but turn villain meant he’d experienced something overwhelming during Ho-cheol’s years in prison.

An experience that outweighed everything he’d built as a hero.

Ho-cheol couldn’t even guess what it was.

“So…”

Lowering his hand, Ho-cheol asked?

“Has your heart wavered?”

“I’m certain now. This world is warped. It can’t go on like this.”

Ho-cheol chuckled.

“Talking like a revolutionary. Some villain you are.”

But it was mere sarcasm—he knew The Sun’s words were no joke.

His eyes burned with a quiet intensity.

Not the eyes of a mere villain.

Only those with clear goals, unwavering conviction, and relentless determination had such eyes.

“In the face of great injustice, small contradictions become irrelevant.”

The Sun no longer looked at the grave.

Raising his head, he gazed at the horizon.

“Heroes, villains, citizens—in the face of great injustice, those distinctions mean nothing.”

Ho-cheol understood why the Association tried so hard to bury The Sun discreetly.

If he’d merely fallen to committing crimes, it wouldn’t matter.

They could spin it with public opinion.

With no way to deny his villainy now, they could fabricate evidence from his hero days to frame him.

Over time, public support would flip.

But if The Sun pursued a cause and sparked a revolution, that was a problem even the government would dread.

With his solid supporter base, his revolution wouldn’t end as mere delusion.

Even half-baked philosophy would rally masses.

The most dangerous crime in modern times was rebellion.

“It’d cause a riot. Not just any hero, but The Sun pulling something like that.”

“Lee Byeong-hoo.”

The Sun cut him off.

Ho-cheol raised an eyebrow, confused, and The Sun explained.

“The title The Sun was from my hero days. I’ve discarded everything from that time. I’ll go by my real name, Lee Byeong-hoo, now.”

“What’s that about? First time I’ve heard your real name.”

It was too trivial for its security level, so he’d never bothered looking it up or caring.

“I lived and sacrificed for people my whole life, but no one knows my name.”

“That’s a bit paranoid.”

Unlike Ho-cheol’s casual dismissal, Byeong-hoo was dead serious.

Though they’d met by chance and parted as enemies, such feelings no longer mattered.

The injustice he aimed to confront was immense.

Turning to face Ho-cheol directly, he said.

“Join me.”

Ho-cheol was speechless for a moment.

One second, two, three…

After processing the brief sentence, he finally responded.

“A recruitment pitch?”

“Yes. You once acted as a villain for a cause. Join me. The just world I seek is surely what you wanted as a villain…”

“Nah, pass.”

Before he could finish, Ho-cheol shut his eyes and waved dismissively.

“I’m done with all that. Causes, grand ideals—I’m not uninterested, but I’m not hung up on that era. More than anything…”

Opening his eyes, he added quietly,

“I’ve got my hands full repaying what I owe.”

His tone, expression, and aura left no room for persuasion.

Byeong-hoo wasn’t oblivious enough to miss that. More than anyone, he knew what Ho-cheol

meant by “what I owe.”

“Is that so? Then there’s no helping it.”

As if all business was done, Byeong-hoo turned to leave.

Ho-cheol watched his back without stopping him.

Given his position and state, apprehending him now was too risky.

If Byeong-hoo were truly mad, Ho-cheol might’ve set aside his delicate balance with the Association to subdue him for civilian safety.

But a few words confirmed he was still rational, and for now, civilians were safe.

Besides, this was a terrible place to fight.

A real battle would vaporize the cemetery and nearby cities, with incalculable casualties.

Fighting a monster like him required a better stage.

After a few steps, Byeong-hoo glanced back and said.

“Next time we meet, one of us dies.”

Despite the murderous threat, Ho-cheol was unfazed, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers.

“Scary stuff. You wanting to kill me is just your lousy personality, I get it.”

Running a hand through his hair, he grinned.

“But I won’t kill you. I’ll just rough you up a bit and toss you back in prison. If you could avoid Mondays and Fridays, that’d be great.”

For the first time, Byeong-hoo’s stoic expression cracked, his eyes twitching.

There was no sarcasm, disdain, or ulterior motive in that smile.

Saying he wouldn’t even kill someone who vowed to kill him—Ho-cheol’s simple grin shone brighter than the sun overhead.

Byeong-hoo turned away, still standing in place, and murmured.

“You’re not asking why?”

“Idiot. What villain doesn’t have a backstory? I just let it be.”

“She really changed you that much, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“She was a true hero. Unlike me.”

After a moment’s thought, he corrected himself.

“Let me rephrase. Next time, I won’t kill you—just half-kill you.”

“Listen to you. You’d think you’re definitely stronger than me.”

Ho-cheol raised his middle finger.

Byeong-hoo walked away silently.

Halfway down the path, So-hee and Da-yeon were coming up.

Passing him, they hurried to Ho-cheol.

Seeing their empty hands, he frowned.

“What, no ice cream?”

“Ice cream’s not the issue!”

So-hee slapped his arm repeatedly.

“We were picking out ice cream at the store when the Association called! They said communications and tracking went down! Even my line was dead!”

Panicked, she rambled.

“Even military satellite comms were out—what the hell happened?!”

Grabbing his arm, she glanced back and lowered her voice.

“And! That person who just passed… that was him, right?”

Da-yeon, a student, might not know, but So-hee, from the Legal Department, couldn’t miss that face.

She hadn’t let an outsider pass Ho-cheol for no reason.

Climbing the hill, her instincts and reason screamed danger the moment they crossed paths.

She hoped he’d say it was a mistake, but Ho-cheol nodded calmly, betraying her hopes.

“Yup.”

So-hee gasped, her legs nearly giving out, but Ho-cheol caught her.

Still trembling, she whimpered,

“…I-I almost died just now, didn’t I?”

“Died?”

Da-yeon, not following, blinked in confusion.

“No way. If it seemed like that, I’d have stopped it from the start. Anyway, looks like we’ve got a lot to ask the Association.”

And a lot to squeeze out of them.

In the distance, dozens of helicopters bearing the Association’s logo approached.

* * *

Despite the unprecedented encounter between The Sun and Jeong Ho-cheol, the Association stayed quiet.

Ho-cheol faced no investigation or accountability.

His history with The Sun was issue enough, and Choi Da-yeon’s unexpected involvement complicated things.

If they pursued it, word would reach Swordmaster.

Swordmaster’s involvement was the Association’s worst-case scenario, one they desperately wanted to avoid.

Thanks to that, Ho-cheol avoided unnecessary hassle and could attend his next lecture without issue.

Clatter—

He opened the classroom door.

After nearly three weeks, the room was sparse.

Unlike usual, not a single auditor was present.

Understandable—there was no reason to attend today, and they shouldn’t.

Placing a paper bag on the podium, he scanned the students.

“Test time, right?”

Groans echoed around the room.