Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 62: Jeong Ye-jin (2)

Ho-cheol raised his voice in protest.

“Hey, I didn’t cause any harm!”

But So-hee just stared at him with narrowed eyes, muttering under her breath so only he could hear.

“Trash.”

Ho-cheol felt genuinely wronged.

Sure, he’d done illegal stuff, but being called trash like this was unfair.

Money laundering was a given in his villain days, and his organization, with its overwhelming power, laundered money far more cleanly than other villains.

The orphanage might’ve been used, but it suffered no loss.

The spare change from laundering, trivial for his organization’s scale, was donated outright, so they actually profited.

At his indignant defense, So-hee snorted.

“Fine, let’s call it that.”

Truthfully, it didn’t matter.

He’s starting to seem human.

As they bantered, a middle-aged woman emerged from the building.

Seeing her, Ye-jin lit up.

“Director!”

She ran over and hugged the woman tightly.

“I’m back.”

Squeezing harder, she whispered.

“Mom.”

The woman smiled, stroking Ye-jin’s back.

“Yes, my daughter. Doing well?”

“Mhm.”

“And who are these people?”

Ye-jin turned, introducing Ho-cheol and So-hee.

The woman smiled brightly and bowed.

“Hello. You’re Ye-jin’s professor? I’m Seong Hye-jin, director of Hope Foster Care Facility. Nice to meet you.”

“Greetings. I’m Jeong Ho-cheol, Ye-jin’s professor.”

“Hi, I’m Han So-hee. Oh, my card—here.”

After exchanging greetings, Hye-jin looked between them curiously.

“What brings you here? Did Ye-jin cause any trouble?”

Hearing the full story, Hye-jin paled.

“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience Ye-jin caused…”

“No, it’s fine,” So-hee waved it off. “We were passing by anyway, just giving her a lift.”

It was literally on their way; her embarrassment made So-hee feel more awkward.

“I feel bad sending you off like this. Please, let me get you some coffee—wait just a moment.”

“Oh, that sounds nice, but our situation…”

So-hee trailed off.

Her task was just to deliver a classified document—being a bit late wouldn’t matter.

But Ho-cheol’s presence was tricky.

His restriction on unauthorized contact remained.

Outings were pushing boundaries lately, but this might be a step too far.

Ho-cheol, however, was unfazed.

“Coffee sounds great.”

So-hee poked his side, whispering.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s fine. The Association bans contact with outsiders, but this isn’t that.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a meeting with a student’s guardian—official academy business.”

Utter nonsense, pure sophistry.

But Ho-cheol grinned confidently.

“Legitimacy comes from situational leverage, not logic.”

He raised his wrist, speaking to the watch—or rather, the Association agents beyond it.

“Got a problem? Send your special forces or heroes. If you can handle the fallout.”

He added in a low voice.

“Gotta catch The Sun, right?”

After a pause, he shrugged.

“Your phone’s quiet, so I guess they’re fine with it.”

“I feel like I’m the one who’ll get chewed out later.”

“That’s a shame.”

Her pout brimmed with complaints.

“You’re the worst.”

“Then take me with you when you get called out. I’ll take the heat too.”

“Sweet talker.”

Still, her lips curled upward slightly.

Hye-jin, listening, tilted her head.

“Not sure what’s going on, but it’s settled?”

“Yes, probably.”

“Great. This way.”

They moved to a playground and garden behind the building for a teatime meeting at an outdoor table.

Hye-jin set out cheap instant coffee and bar snacks, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, this is all we have.”

“It’s fine,” Ho-cheol said, picking up a snack with a smile. “My favorite.”

So-hee blinked, stunned by his unusually polite, polished demeanor—something he’d never shown Se-ah or the dean.

“Who are you?”

Ho-cheol whispered, lips barely moving.

“Acting like a jerk during a parent meeting would be weirder, no?”

“Fair enough.”

She was convinced instantly.

Just a calmer vibe, yet he seemed like a different person. His usual self wasn’t bad, but this rare mode felt oddly cooler.

So-hee asked slyly?

“Ever think about acting like this all the time?”

To Ho-cheol, it was nonsense not worth hearing, brushed off with one ear.

Hye-jin, holding her cup with both hands, smiled and asked?

“So, how’s Ye-jin doing?”

Ho-cheol straightened, nodding.

“She’s an excellent student. Class vice-representative, enthusiastic in MT and department events.”

“Oh, vice-representative? The academy has those?”

“I rely on her a lot.”

Her hand covered her mouth, slightly open in surprise, before she beamed.

“I was worried she didn’t fit in with others.”

“Yes, I was concerned her introverted nature might hinder leadership, but…”

He turned his head.

In the playground, over ten kids swarmed Ye-jin, jumping around her.

“Big sis! Turn on the AC!”

“AC!!!”

Ye-jin, glancing side to side, shouted.

“Turn on the AC?”

“Yeah!”

“Alright, get ready!”

Spreading her arms wide, kids clung to her like cicadas.

Her hair floated weightlessly.

“AC!!! Full blast!!!”

A chill swirled around her, reaching Ho-cheol’s table.

He chuckled.

“No need to worry. It just takes her time.”

She was a different person here—her true self, perhaps.

They discussed Ye-jin’s school life: sitting front-row, taking diligent notes, eating every grain of rice at the cafeteria—small things any parent would love.

Hye-jin’s smile never faded.

Looking at her empty cup, she said,

“Honestly, with all the recent incidents at the academy, I was worried.”

The academy’s constant troubles had once pushed her to urge Ye-jin to drop out.

No matter her hero aspirations, nothing was worth her life.

Lifting her head, she smiled brightly.

“But with such a good professor, I can trust her in your hands.”

“I always prioritize student safety. I’ll do my best, though I’m lacking. By the way…”

He glanced at the rundown building and surroundings.

“The facility seems in poor shape.”

Hye-jin gave a bitter smile.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Ye-jin had already told him about it.

Raising it during a student meeting was risky, but Ho-cheol had a reason.

“Did you know Ye-jin works part-time and sends most of her earnings here?”

Hye-jin’s face darkened instantly.

She’d tried returning the money, but Ye-jin started leaving cash in the director’s office and leaving, forcing Hye-jin to give up.

The facility’s finances were so dire that even Ye-jin’s stubborn donations were critical.

Without them, some kids would still be on the streets.

Seeing Ye-jin made Hye-jin’s heart ache.

She couldn’t even afford her new clothes, shoes, or glasses.

Yet Ye-jin sacrificed for the same reason she’d been raised here—so her siblings wouldn’t suffer as she had, driven by pure goodwill.

Ho-cheol tapped the table impassively.

“As a professor, I don’t see it as ideal. Her goodwill is causing significant inconvenience to her academic life.”

“I understand.”

Hye-jin couldn’t lift her head.

She’d known it deep down, but hearing from Ye-jin’s professor that she was hindering her future felt like a parental failure.

“I’ll talk to her…”

Ho-cheol stared at the faltering director.

Their brief talk confirmed she was a genuinely good person—rare, even in his memory.

He’d planned to deal with her if she wasn’t, but she deserved a chance.

“Yes, please do.”

“By the way…”

Standing abruptly, he pointed at a small hill behind the building, specifically the trees on it.

“Is that hill part of the facility’s land?”

Puzzled by the sudden question, Hye-jin answered readily.

“Yes, about 500 pyeong, up to that hill. It’s a development-restricted zone, so no transactions are possible.”

“I see.”

He pointed at the trees.

“Those trees are illegal.”

“…What?”

“They look ordinary, but they’re a special species used for hunter stimulants, managed only by the state. I’d say over thirty trees.”

There were once over a hundred, but poor maintenance left many dead.

Still, thirty was plenty.

“At that size, they’re over twenty years old. The reporting reward is 150,000 per tree, plus

50,000 per five years of growth, so 350,000 each. With thirty…”

He didn’t finish the math. Hye-jin, covering her mouth, gasped in shock.

“S-so…”

She couldn’t even finish. Ho-cheol nodded.

“In times like this, you smile and say, ‘What luck.’”

“Is this real?”

“Good people get rewarded, don’t they?”

Leaving the stunned Hye-jin, So-hee poked his side.

“How’d you know that? Wait, don’t tell me…”

Recalling his money-laundering comment, her eyes widened.

He snorted softly.

“Who launders money with gold or monster byproducts these days?”

An old orphanage in a restricted zone—perfect for avoiding state or hero scrutiny.

“Anything else like that?”

“Why?”

“Well, I mean… ugh.”

So-hee groaned, frustrated.

Public servant salaries suck—give me one tree!

She couldn’t voice her true thoughts, knowing how it’d look.

As they prepared to leave, a child approached Ho-cheol.

“Hello.”

Maybe five years old, speaking with a childish lisp.

“What’s up?”

Meeting his gaze, the child held out a ball.

“Play with me.”

Frowning, Ho-cheol waved as if shooing a fly.

“I don’t like kids.”

“Aw.”

The child trudged away. Clicking his tongue, Ho-cheol followed.

“Just five minutes.”

A quick toss should do it.

* * *

A kid charged at Ho-cheol.

He crouched, lowering his stance.

“I!”

The kid ran full speed, exuding intensity beyond their age.

“Don’t!”

Dodging, he grabbed the kid’s collar.

“Like kids!”

He tossed them far.

Eek!

The kid sailed into a trampoline, landing in a ball pit. Emerging, they lined up again.

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue and shouted,

“Next!”

“Me! Me!”

“One at a time, so the line never shrinks. Everyone’s had a turn—two at a time now!”

Two kids charged.

He grabbed and tossed them with each hand.

Watching from a distance, So-hee muttered, stunned.

“He’s really playing with them.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Hye-jin mumbled, though smiling faintly.

How many years had it been?

She could tell if someone was faking dislike or if their words belied their heart.

The kids here all bore wounds, big and small.

They’d never approach or act friendly with someone who truly disliked them.

Yet they flocked to Ho-cheol without hesitation.

Proof he was a good person.

Pointing at him, So-hee asked?

“What’s with that dinosaur outfit?”

“Probably from the storage room.”

“Hah.”

Ho-cheol wore a T-Rex hoodie, playing with the kids.

He’d probably insist it was torture, not play, but to her, it looked like fun.

It suits him.

They sell those online, right?

As he sweated, tossing kids, Ye-jin approached.

“Professor.”

Swinging two kids up and down, he turned his head.

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk privately?”

Hands behind her back, she tilted her head, cheeks faintly pink, toes scuffing the ground.

“Just us.”

Setting the kids down, he replied curtly.

“No.”

Ye-jin froze, stunned by the blunt refusal.

“Uh, I mean…”

Before she could explain, he pointed at the long line of kids.

“Get in line.”

“Huh?”

“No cutting.”

An aspiring hero, cutting in line?

“No, that’s not what I meant!”

The kids’ glares stung.

In the end, Ye-jin obediently lined up behind the kids barely reaching her chest.