Academy’s Villain Professor

66. Invention Day

The lecture by Ho-cheol signaled the start of a new week.

The classroom, post-midterms, was once again packed to the brim, leaving no room to step.

“How did everyone do on the exams?”

Ho-cheol, back to his strict, solemn, and serious professor persona, asked while scanning the students.

A chorus of “Yes—” came in response, but the voices sounded like they were on their last breath.

It was only natural for the mood to be dampened.

Even if they did well on other exams, this was the one lecture where they had bombed.

Of course, Ho-cheol ignored the gloomy atmosphere.

“Those who fail, make up for it in the finals. Those who did well, keep it up.”

By the way.

With a faint sigh, he looked at the students attending his lecture, some sitting on folding chairs or cushions they had somehow scrounged up.

After a moment of thought, he let out another sigh.

“It’s commendable that you all come to this lecture on Monday mornings, but starting next week, don’t.”

The students stirred in confusion, but his resolve didn’t waver.

There was no choice to begin with.

“We’re switching back to practical lectures, and since your traits aren’t Enhancement-based, it’s hard for me to manage you. More importantly, how am I supposed to handle nearly fifty students one by one?”

If there were only about five students attending unofficially, he could’ve found a way to accommodate them, but this was too much.

Yet, singling out just a few would be unfair.

It was better to draw a clear line.

“This lecture can’t handle any more students.”

Disappointment and despair flickered in their eyes.

He felt a bit guilty and regretful, but there was nothing Ho-cheol could do.

“This will be the last lecture where unofficial attendance is allowed.”

Sighs of regret echoed here and there.

He lightly tapped the lectern to shift the mood.

“That’s the end of that discussion. Today’s lecture is about responding to and analyzing situations involving civilian hostages. Depending on the villain’s traits and their numbers, we can categorize the situation as…”

Standing before the chalkboard, he began the lecture.

* * *

After the lecture ended, as Ho-cheol turned to leave, someone rushed toward him from behind.

“Professor!”

It was a familiar voice.

He stopped and turned to see Ye-jin, with her backpack slung in front, running toward him.

“Hello!”

“Yeah.”

He thought she might just be thanking him for something from before, but she lingered around him, as if she had more to say.

When she kept circling him without speaking, Ho-cheol’s nose twitched.

“What.”

Ye-jin, hands clasped behind her back, spun around in front of him.

“Don’t I seem a little different? I realized something after listening to your advice.”

If she had just asked if something had changed, he might’ve flicked her forehead and sent her away, but her latter words lingered in his ears.

Realized something after his advice.

Indeed, she seemed less like she was desperately trying to act like an adult now.

Of course, that wasn’t the full answer.

After eyeing her up and down, he raised both hands in surrender.

“I have no idea.”

He prided himself on his keen observation, but honestly, he couldn’t spot a thing.

Her clothes were the usual Academy uniform, her shoes were the same as always, and even her socks were the same plain white kind.

“Come on, this!”

She suddenly leaned her face forward.

The distance between them closed to a precarious gap, barely enough for a fist to fit.

Standing on her tiptoes to meet his eye level, she pointed her index finger at the corner of her eye—or more precisely, at her glasses.

“The glasses?”

“I changed the tape!”

Since the first time they met, Ye-jin’s glasses had a broken hinge, hastily patched with blue tape.

It was so pitiful it was almost suffocating.

But looking again, the blue tape was gone, replaced by thin white tape.

“The tape is the answer?”

“Yes!”

Ye-jin chuckled proudly.

“I wrapped it with tape that’s twice as expensive! Honestly, my hands were shaking when I paid for it, but thanks to you, I realized it’s okay to indulge a little.”

“Haa.”

Ho-cheol let out a sigh.

She hadn’t bought new glasses or even repaired them.

She called changing the tape on the broken part a luxury.

The problem was, this wasn’t a joke at all.

To her, this was a near-sacrificial act of frugality—or rather, shedding her penny-pinching mindset.

She was trying to show she’d grown, but to Ho-cheol, it was simply bewildering.

It was definitely an improvement, but… it felt like she’d gone a bit off in a different direction.

“And also.”

She pulled a pristine white card from her pocket, holding it between her fingers as if it were some grand treasure, lowering her voice.

“A monthly bus pass.”

For Ye-jin, who couldn’t even dream of taking a bus in the sweltering summer heat, a monthly bus pass was a treasure far beyond the realm of luxury.

She could now take the bus back to the dorms.

As she bounced excitedly, Ho-cheol lost any will to critique her.

“Alright. If you’re happy, that’s fine.”

“It’s not just about being happy!”

“But you didn’t call me over just to talk about that, right?”

Ho-cheol clenched and unclenched his hand in his pocket.

If she said “Yes—” here, he’d seriously give her a flick, no matter who was watching.

“Oh, no, of course not.”

Unknowingly extending her lifespan, Ye-jin opened the backpack slung in front of her.

She pulled out a stack of envelopes and handed them all to Ho-cheol.

“What are these letters?”

“The kids asked me to give them to you. Whenever volunteers come, they write a few, but this time they wrote a ton.”

Ho-cheol looked at the letters in silence.

No words, no actions.

His stillness made Ye-jin feel a strange unease.

Was this uncomfortable for him?

Did she do something unnecessary?

Should she have told the kids not to do it?

Her anxiety grew.

Finally, she cautiously asked?

“…You’ll accept them, right?”

“I tend to take what’s offered.”

Only then did Ho-cheol respond, taking all the letters.

In truth, his situation was the opposite of Ye-jin’s worries.

He hadn’t even considered receiving letters and was quietly moved.

To think that just playing with them for an hour or so would make them remember him like this.

Smiling lightly as he tucked the letters into his bag, Ye-jin sighed in relief internally.

“I’ll tell the kids you got them.”

“No, don’t do that.”

“Huh?”

Her confusion at his incomprehensible response deepened with his next explanation.

“I’ll write replies myself.”

She was so shocked her lips wouldn’t move.

Dozens of letters.

All of them, one by one?

Having grown up in the facility for nearly twenty years, Ye-jin had seen countless people come through for volunteering or other reasons.

She and the kids had written hundreds of letters, but not once had they received a reply.

Not that she resented it.

If they were the kind to reply, they were already good people.

But Ho-cheol spoke of writing replies so casually, as if it were obvious.

“Well, no more to say, right? I’m going.”

Ye-jin watched his back for a moment.

After pursing her lips, she put on a determined expression and called out again.

“Um, Professor!”

“What?”

“So, I’m thinking of changing my weapon. I figured it’d be better to get your advice than to do it alone.”

“The knuckles?”

“No, it’s not that. The ones I’ve been using don’t fit my fingers properly. I need to buy new ones.”

At that, Ho-cheol stroked his chin.

“Honestly, I don’t know much about those. Not sure I’d be much help.”

He could handle blades and bows better than most, but knuckles were unfamiliar even to him.

After all, among heroes, bare-fisted fighters might exist, but knuckles were a niche of a niche.

Seeing his lack of confidence, Ye-jin waved her hands.

“It’s fine! Just tell me if something looks obviously wrong!”

“If it’s just that much, alright. Bring a list later, and I’ll take a look.”

“No, you don’t need to do that.”

She took a deep breath.

Even with her resolve, saying it out loud made her nervous.

After sneaking a glance at him, she spoke again.

“I heard there’ll be a ton of weapons at the Invention Day event. They’re way cheaper for the same specs, so I was thinking of browsing there to pick one.”

Even as she spoke, she kept checking his reaction, worried she might upset him.

A dependable adult.

An adult she wanted to depend on.

Similar in meaning, but entirely different in implication.

To Ye-jin, Ho-cheol was clearly the latter.

And it was only natural to feel this way about an adult she wanted to rely on.

“And if you could give me advice or even just some pointers there, it’d help me choose a weapon later, so maybe somehow…”

Her words came out like rapid-fire.

Ho-cheol scratched the back of his head.

“So, you’re asking me to go with you?”

“Yes!”

Ho-cheol crossed his arms, thinking.

Well, since Se-ah was already guiding, one more tag-along wouldn’t be an issue.

But there was another concern.

Giving advice on weapon selection could be seen as an extension of consultation.

But to others, wouldn’t it look like favoritism?

Ho-cheol, who always had a slight worry about private sparring or tutoring, took this seriously.

As he pondered, someone tugged at the back of his shirt.

Turning around, he saw Da-yeon standing there.

With her usual expressionless face, she looked up at him and said briefly.

“I want to go too…”

She seemed to have overheard their conversation, but there was no reason to scold her for eavesdropping.

They were talking in the hallway in front of the classroom, so it was natural for a curious ear to catch it.

That aside, Ho-cheol asked, puzzled?

“Didn’t you just get that bow? Already changing it?”

“No, it’s not that. I…”

Da-yeon faltered, her eyes shifting sideways as if at a loss for words.

She’d jumped into the conversation out of urgency but didn’t know what to say.

Rubbing the edge of his shirt with her fingertips, her eyes suddenly widened.

“Arrows. I want to buy new arrows.”

“Oh? True, your bow’s good, but the arrows are too mass-produced.”

At that moment, a great idea struck Ho-cheol.

A perfect plan to erase the guilt of favoring specific students while boosting the class’s overall skill level.

Looking between the two standing before him, he said.

“You two, get everyone’s contact info.”

Why not make it a group activity?

* * *

In a skyscraper over fifty stories tall, the top floor of the grand, opulent building was reserved for a single person.

An employee visited the top floor.

The spacious yet empty interior resembled a martial arts dojo more than an office.

At its center stood a man.

“President.”

“Hm.”

The man holding a sword, the master of the floor, responded briefly without turning.

“This is the quarterly report on the agency’s hero activities.”

While the employee reported, the man merely stared into a mirror, swinging his sword.

Simple, slow movements—but the employee, watching, forgot the report and marveled.

There wasn’t a single flaw in his stance.

Same breath, same posture, same trajectory.

Everything was perfect.

The pinnacle of skill, known only to those who wielded a sword, rested at the tip of his blade.

Could even ten people in this country block or dodge that sword?

Snapping back to reality, the employee shook their head and continued the quarterly report.

“Next, the performance report for dispatched agency branches by city…”

As the report went on, a voice came from the ceiling speaker.

[A―aee―315 district, bank robbery reported. The robbers are fleeing by vehicle. Based on the vehicle type and road conditions, they’ll reach A―dvo―319 district in 72 seconds. No hostages confirmed.]

The man turned to a wall-sized map of the city he oversaw.

He quickly located the mentioned district.

The distance was 44 km.

“Bank robbery, huh? Been a while.”

Was the title of the city with the lowest crime rate too tempting?

Lately, the number of criminals has been creeping up.

With a gesture, the western window slid open.

Gauging the position, he swung his sword.

Not long after, the ceiling speaker spoke again.

[Villain neutralized. Suppression team dispatched and handed over to police. Good work.]

The employee, witnessing the entire sequence, couldn’t hold back their awe.

Targeting a villain dozens of kilometers away and striking with precision.

That overwhelming finesse and control was why he was hailed as the greatest hero of the era.

It was also why he had the most agency staff and disciples among heroes.

Swordmaster Choi Hak-do.

The hero before them was, without a doubt, the nation’s greatest and strongest.

He glanced at the employee and gave a brief nod.

“Sorry for interrupting your work.”

“No, sir! Seeing your swordsmanship was an honor.”

“I appreciate you saying that. We got cut off. Where were we?”

“We finished the performance report for dispatched branches.”

“Right.”

“Next is information regarding the young lady.”

For the first time, the sword that had been tracing steady arcs stopped.

But only briefly, as the Swordmaster resumed training.

The employee quickly explained the Academy attack and the MT incident.

His only family, his own daughter, had been targeted and nearly kidnapped by villains.

Yet, after hearing the report, the Swordmaster simply said.

“Good. She’s doing well.”

That was it.

The utter lack of affection for his kin sent chills down the employee’s spine, though they didn’t show it and continued the report.

But for the first time, he reacted to the most recent incident.

The Swordmaster stopped his sword and turned.

“She encountered The Sun?”

“Yes. It seems they crossed paths at the National Cemetery while she was visiting Madam.”

“What happened?”

The employee quickly checked the report and shook their head.

“[The Sun] left without causing any harm.”

“I want to see the related materials.”

The employee handed over the report.

Reading it, the Swordmaster’s expression showed surprise.

“She wasn’t alone.”

“Yes, there were two Academy staff members with her.”

Upon closer inspection, Da-yeon had only briefly crossed paths with [The Sun].

The ones who faced him for several minutes were the Academy staff.

The Swordmaster frowned as he read.

“Academy staff, huh? Why are the names and personal details in the report all redacted?”

“The professor’s information is locked. It requires at least Level 1 security clearance.”

“Why?”

“It’s part of a project the Association is pushing. They’re using an incarcerated villain as a professor. The other is personnel dispatched by the Association.”

The employee pulled out a tablet.

If the Swordmaster wanted, accessing Level 1 security information was simple.

“Would you like to view the professor’s information?”

“No, no need.”

At that, the employee, as if expecting it, put the tablet away.

As expected, it was just a fleeting interest, not enough to hold the Swordmaster’s attention.

But then.

“I’ll go see for myself.”

Never question him.

Even forgetting a principle upheld for years as his closest aide, the employee stupidly asked?

“What?”

The Swordmaster sheathed his sword calmly and added briefly.

“I’m intrigued.”

The word “intrigued,” heard for the first time, left the employee standing there, dumbfounded, their brain giving up on processing.

“Invention Day is coming up, right? The Clington event.”

“Yes, uh, yes, that’s right.”

Snapping out of it at the sudden change of topic, the employee answered.

“Did we get an invitation this year?”

“Yes, but we declined as usual.”

“No.”

Placing his sword on the wall rack, the Swordmaster turned and declared.

“Prepare. We’re going to Clington.”