Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 64: Jeong Ye-jin (4)

Ye-jin wiped her cheek with her index finger.

“Huh?”

Clear liquid. She licked her finger—salty.

Only then did she realize the tears streaming down her face.

It felt so unreal that she hadn’t noticed she was crying.

“Why am I suddenly crying…?”

Like a broken faucet, tears flowed against her will, pouring out.

Flustered, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but the flood wouldn’t stop, blurring her vision.

Not just Ye-jin—Ho-cheol was startled too.

From their few interactions, he’d sensed she was weighed down by obsession and pressure.

His words of comfort were meant to ease that burden.

But her state, the situation—it was far worse than he’d thought.

He’d assumed she was hiding it, but she wasn’t even aware of her own condition.

She needs a stronger remedy.

As she continued crying, a hazy figure approached through her tear-blurred vision.

“Eek.”

Ho-cheol’s hand touched beneath her eyes.

Cold tears slid down his fingers to his wrist.

Ironically, even her icy tears were warmer than her skin.

“P-Professor, your hand…”

Flustered by his touch, she tried to speak, but he sighed softly and said.

“It’s okay.”

“No, I’m really fine!”

Panicked at causing worry, she waved her hands.

Her tear-soaked face didn’t help her case.

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

Without explanation, he repeated the words.

“No! I don’t know why this is happening!”

As the cycle of empty comfort and protests continued, Ho-cheol spoke abruptly.

“Your director.”

Ye-jin flinched.

“She’s a fine adult. Kind, loves you all, someone to learn from. But not a dependable guardian.”

Just minutes of conversation confirmed it.

How much more so for Ye-jin and the facility’s kids, who’d lived with her their whole lives?

Ye-jin, the eldest, must’ve felt it instinctively.

Many young people in tough circumstances take on parental roles.

But how many have dozens of siblings to care for?

The pressure on Ye-jin, the first to mature and face reality, was unimaginable to Ho-cheol, who hadn’t lived her life.

So—

“It’s okay now.”

That was all he could offer.

Clichéd, clumsy comfort, but its raw honesty shone through clearly.

“Then… what should I…”

“I told you. Do what you want. Even the smallest things.”

He felt a faint tremor through her skin.

No, her whole body was shaking.

“I… actually…”

No weak complaints, no groans, no whining—she couldn’t.

Because her siblings were watching.

She couldn’t burden Hye-jin either, who was stretched thin caring for the others.

The first emotion the facility’s kids learned was resignation.

And Ye-jin was no different.

I deserve to be unhappy, so my siblings can be okay.

That noble heart drove her to become a hero.

But—

She bowed her head, her soft voice reaching Ho-cheol before fading.

“I want to order food without a care.”

Barely an adult, after all.

“I don’t want to walk an hour to a place ten minutes by car.”

Everyday things, trivial to others, she’d never had.

“I want to go to karaoke with friends, take sticker photos, watch movies, eat tasty things at a café.”

Things she’d dismissed as another world, someone else’s life.

“Just once, I want to sleep deeply without worrying.”

To her now, these were desperate wishes.

“When the sun rises and I open my eyes, I don’t want to be scared. Tomorrow, the future, everything.”

For the first time, her emotions caught up to her tears.

“Truth is, I’m not okay at all.”

Clutching his collar, she sobbed.

Ho-cheol silently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay now.”

How long did she cry?

Calming down, her grip loosened.

In a nasal voice, she mumbled.

“But if I don’t work, my siblings…”

“That’s for adults to handle. To me, you and your siblings are all just kids. Why worry about that?”

It wasn’t just words.

He explained the illegal trees and their reward money.

Ye-jin was speechless.

Struggling to process, she could only ask faintly.

“The trees… really? They’re worth that much?”

Her trembling voice betrayed disbelief—not in Ho-cheol, but the situation itself.

Years of the facility’s operating costs.

She and Hye-jin had scoured laws, begged institutions, sought sponsors, yet barely kept starvation at bay.

Ho-cheol solved it effortlessly.

It was only natural he’d fill the role of the dependable adult she’d always lacked.

Calming her racing heart, she asked?

“But… I’ve never thought of anything but being a hero.”

Ho-cheol would surely have an answer.

“Dunno.”

“Huh?”

She looked up.

After building her hopes, such an irresponsible reply?

He shrugged casually.

“That’s for you to figure out. I can suggest paths, but the choice is yours. But…”

He glanced aside, gesturing.

“I hope this helps you decide.”

Sniffling, she followed his gaze.

Her siblings rushed over, swarming between her and Ho-cheol, glaring at him.

“Don’t bully big sis!”

“You okay, unnie?”

Some charged him, burying him in a pile of kids, tugging at him.

Ho-cheol, bitten on the arm and side, grumbled.

“This is why I hate kids.”

Ye-jin watched, dazed.

She’d thought of them only as siblings to protect, always giving.

That belief had driven her this far.

But it was a foolish misconception.

Now she understood Ho-cheol’s words.

How did I miss something so simple?

She bowed her head.

“Unnie!”

A kid, alarmed, tried to support her, but she lifted her head first.

She returned the comfort she’d heard.

“It’s okay.”

Smiling brightly at their worried faces, her swollen eyes carried a different aura now.

She picked up her fallen glasses.

“Really, I’m okay. We’re still talking, so can you give us a moment?”

“For real?”

As they left, still concerned, she took a deep breath.

Wiping her eyes, the tears stopped.

The blurry world sharpened, and Ho-cheol stood there, as usual.

“…I understand your advice. It’s really good, convincing, but…”

Sniffling once, she declared resolutely.

“I still want to be a hero.”

Ho-cheol’s face twisted.

Did she not hear a word I said?

Irritation surged, but he caught her expression.

Her nose is red, her green eyes bloodshot.

Yet she looked better than before.

The pressure and obsession to sacrifice for her siblings were gone from her confident gaze.

He relaxed his expression.

If it was her own choice, not swayed by others.

“Fine. That’s okay too.”

His quick acceptance flustered her.

Grabbing his arm as he turned, she protested.

“Don’t give up so easily! I prepared to argue—how can you just accept it without asking why?”

“Geez.”

He clicked his tongue but humored her.

“Why won’t you give up?”

Hands on hips, she raised her chin.

“I’m not chasing the hero my siblings want anymore.

I want to be the hero I want to be.”

“That’s a much better motive.”

A small difference, but it would make a big impact.

“What kind of hero?”

She grinned.

“Like you.”

“I’m not a hero…”

Thwip—

Before he could finish, she clapped her hands over his mouth.

Leaning close, she whispered.

“You said you don't need a hero title to be someone’s hero. Like I am to my siblings.”

Their first meeting could’ve left bad blood, but he forgave her easily.

And it didn’t stop there.

In every perilous moment, he was the first to offer help.

He’d given her more than anyone in her life.

It might seem trivial to others, but to her, it was salvation.

Yes, he was like—

“To me, you’re a real hero. So don’t say you’re not.”

Bowing her head, she murmured earnestly, her head pressing against his chest.

“I mean it.”

He raised a hand silently, tapping the back of her hand covering his mouth.

As she released him, he pursed his lips.

Her mix of anticipation and anxiety stirred complex feelings.

He couldn’t refuse after what he’d said, but it felt uneasy.

Still, for his student.

Sighing, he nodded.

“Fine. Grow up and be a hero like me… or don’t.”

“Don’t ruin it! You’re just shy!”

Back at the facility, So-hee, emptying coffee cups while waiting, stood.

“Took too long… What!”

Seeing Ye-jin beside Ho-cheol, she gasped.

“I thought it was a confession or something—what did you do to her? Beating her up like this!”

Insane! She slapped his arm repeatedly.

Hye-jin, glancing between them, smiled softly.

This wasn’t the usual suppressed Ye-jin but the bright child from long ago.

She hugged Ye-jin gently.

“You look so much better smiling.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I put too much on you.”

“No, don’t say that…”

As their talk lengthened, Ho-cheol interjected.

“Sorry to interrupt family time, but we should get going.”

Mother and daughter parted.

Hye-jin bowed deeply.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Well…”

Stepping forward, he whispered something in her ear.

Her expression stiffened, betraying clear unease.

“That’s a bit difficult. Is there another motive…”

“Absolutely not. Just… a small personal reason.”

After chewing her lip, she nodded.

“Alright. Since it’s your request. Just leave your personal contact.”

They exchanged numbers, and after persuading the kids not to cling, they left.

“Said you’d just use the bathroom—look how long it took.”

So-hee’s voice was exhausted.

“No kidding.”

In the car to the Legal Department, Ho-cheol sighed, breaking the silence.

“That kid’s an idiot. Finding her talent, she should consider that path. Making choices for emotional reasons—what’s she thinking?”

She’ll regret it.

His complaints about Ye-jin poured out.

So-hee glanced at him.

His tone was gruff, but his profile, chin in hand, showed a faint smile.

Looking ahead, she tapped the steering wheel.

“Grumbling, but you seem in a good mood.”

“What?”

He turned to the window.

Ye-jin’s voice, wanting to be a hero like him, echoed.

“Well…”

Leaning deeper into the seat, he watched the passing scenery.

“Not so bad, I guess.”

* * *

At the Hero Association’s Legal Department—his second visit—no incidents occurred, unlike the last time with villains sent by a department official.

This is how it should be.

While So-hee met her old team to deliver documents, Ho-cheol stood by a vending machine.

He’d planned to confront her seniors about overworking her but was rebuffed—she found it too

scary.

Understandable, given his villain past, but it stung more than expected.

Now he felt like a kindergarten kid waiting for a parent to finish work.

“Coins…”

Standing by the machine, he wanted coffee but had no change—taken by the kids earlier.

As he pondered, someone inserted two 500-won coins and pressed the coffee button he’d intended.

They handed him the cup.

“Well, damn.”

Surprised but accepting, he took it.

“I don’t say no to free coffee. Thanks.”

Turning, he nodded.

“Been a while, huh?”

The Legal Department Director. Ho-cheol raised the coffee lightly.

The director, grabbing his own, nodded.

“Last time was just a trait-made illusion.”

“You’re looking sharp.”

“Cut the sarcasm.”

Honestly, the director looked rough.

Since the breakout, he hadn’t left on time or had a weekend off.

The Legal Department was a madhouse—he’d rather monitor Ho-cheol.

His visit was business.

“Still thinking about the president’s deal?”

Capturing The Sun—now Lee Byeong-hoo—or killing him.

Time had passed since the offer, but Ho-cheol hadn’t given a clear answer.

He wouldn’t kill.

That was an unbreakable promise, an absolute principle.

The Association’s subtle push to break it didn’t sit well.

But keeping some wiggle room let him push their buttons, so he maintained that stance, though his mind was made up.

Hiding his thoughts, he replied casually,

“Yeah, something like that.”

“How about this? Not as the Association but as the Legal Department Director, I have a proposal.”

Ho-cheol sipped his coffee.

“Oh? You’re not on my bad side, so I’ll hear you out.”

The director handed him a paper bag.

“We’ve pinpointed a few escapees with ideologies or traits suited for mass destruction, regardless of rank. The problem is manpower. Tracking’s tough enough—subduing and arresting is near impossible.”

Ho-cheol opened the bag, pulling out documents.

Names, descriptions, traits, and records were detailed—all villains active after his retirement.

Scanning the list, he commented briefly.

“Nobodies.”

“To you, maybe.”

“You want me to catch them? Just subdue? Transport too?”

“Doesn’t matter. The key is stopping them before they harm society.”

Ho-cheol closed the documents and answered curtly.

“Got it.”

“If you do that… Wait, what?”

The director, caught off guard, stammered.

He’d prepared incentives and support to persuade Ho-cheol, but his instant agreement threw him.

With a relaxed demeanor, Ho-cheol downed the rest of his coffee and repeated.

“I’ll catch those villain bastards.”