Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 67. Invention Day (2)

The Invention Day event, spanning three days from Tuesday to Thursday, was a massive expo held at the Academy.

Students from the Item Fabrication Engineering Department showcased their year-long ideas and technical achievements, presenting their creations.

Beyond proving their capabilities, the event offered opportunities to network with invited companies, heroes, and government officials.

It wasn’t just for Academy students; the scale of this expo was rare even globally.

Companies and alumni paid participation fees for significant advertising benefits, setting up booths or showcasing their technologies.

True to its reputation as a cutting-edge tech expo, it was filled with mystical experiences and attractions, drawing some attendees solely for the spectacle.

“And this is…”

Se-ah, one such spectator, asked Ho-cheol with a bewildered expression.

“What the hell is going on?”

Her question was directed at the over ten students swarming behind him.

Ho-cheol, who had brought them, answered calmly.

“My class.”

“I know that!”

Having transported students during the MT event and even getting seriously injured to protect them, Se-ah vaguely remembered them.

The students had thanked her as their lifesaver, admiring her resolute demeanor, though she saw it as her duty and didn’t boast about it to Ho-cheol.

She liked his students, but that was beside the point.

“So what’s the situation?”

“Well, I heard this event has a lot of good weapons, so I told the kids interested in new ones to come.”

Ho-cheol’s concern was about favoring students like Da-yeon or Se-ah too much.

The solution was simple: make it a class-wide activity to avoid discrimination.

He had Da-yeon and Se-ah ask everyone if they wanted to join.

“I couldn’t handle them alone, but you’re here.”

Normally, Ho-cheol would’ve balked at managing so many students, but with Se-ah as a guide, it was feasible.

Participation was optional, and about ten students—those without dedicated weapons or uninterested in changing—joined.

Most weren’t serious about buying; they were more curious about Ho-cheol outside the classroom.

He’d expected only three or four, but ten was excessive.

Se-ah suppressed her frustration.

She hadn’t explicitly said not to bring others, but shouldn’t he have some tact?

She crumpled a paper in her pocket listing snacks and experiences she’d planned: chocolate churros, rainbow cotton candy, papaya slush, tornado fries, and more.

Embarrassed to indulge alone or with other staff, she’d seen this as a rare chance to enjoy herself with Ho-cheol, but now it felt ruined.

“Ugh…”

She felt unfairly cheated.

In the Academy, only Ho-cheol and So-hee saw her as a person, not just the labor union chair or Manipulation Department head.

The students were an unwelcome intrusion, though she didn’t resent them—just felt disappointed.

Unable to contain her emotions, Gom-gom, her bear doll, punched Ho-cheol’s shin, though it was a soft blow.

Ho-cheol scratched his head with a wry smile, realizing he’d underestimated her upset.

“Let’s come back tomorrow, just us,” he offered.

“Really?”

Se-ah’s expression softened, and Gom-gom stopped punching.

“Just the three of us?”

“Probably?”

His uncertain reply annoyed her briefly, but she relaxed, glad for the renewed opportunity.

“Alright, keep that promise.”

Turning energetically, Se-ah pointed to the weapon booths.

“Let’s go there first!”

Dozens of booths displayed weapons with cost-efficient designs, special metal alloys for enhanced performance, or prototypes with novel tech, all vying for attention.

The students browsed, calling Ho-cheol when they found something interesting.

He evaluated the weapon’s compatibility, growth potential, and quality.

For one student’s sword, he noted.

“Not great. It supports Trait output, but it’s too heavy. Long fights will disadvantage you.”

“Ugh, that’s a shame.”

When free, Ho-cheol explored other booths, marveling at technological advancements compared to a decade ago.

He inspected weapons, offering blunt feedback when called.

“This is just bad. No reason to switch from what you have.”

When a student or vendor protested, he remained impassive, pointing out flaws.

“Here and here, the seams. No need to explain.”

Using a card, he exposed a weapon’s weak joint, twisting it until it shattered with a crack.

His real-world experience and analytical prowess extended beyond people to weapons, easily spotting flaws.

“Joints for flexibility are fine, but a composite structure shouldn’t be this vulnerable.”

He handed the ruined weapon back to the fuming vendor.

“Find something else.”

“Yes, sir!”

For six hours, he advised students, who mostly achieved their goals and left.

Only Da-yeon and Ye-jin remained, having found nothing due to their picky standards on durability, grip, balance, price, and design.

Ho-cheol sighed, arms crossed.

“You two are left.”

Da-yeon and Ye-jin, the high-maintenance troublemakers.

“Why not just buy something mass-produced?”

His half-resigned, half-irritated question made them shrink.

Ye-jin cautiously spoke, glancing at Se-ah.

“Tomorrow… that’s probably not happening, right?”

She realized Se-ah, not Ho-cheol, was the key to continuing.

If Se-ah agreed, they could join again.

Da-yeon sent a similar pleading look.

Se-ah puffed her cheeks in annoyance.

They were shamelessly trying to steal her fun again.

But she sighed, deflating.

Two students weren’t a huge burden—just a minor nuisance.

Besides, they were the best, not in skill or character, but because they saw her as a person, not a title, unlike others who tiptoed around her.

She didn’t mind more company if that issue was resolved.

Raising a finger seriously, she said.

“Tomorrow, you’re just tag-alongs. I won’t babysit. I’ll only check your stuff in my spare time.”

“Of course! We’re just grateful to come along!”

Ye-jin grinned, and Da-yeon nodded vigorously.

* * *

The next day, the second day of the expo, Se-ah took center stage, holding a churro in one hand and rainbow cotton candy in the other, chewing happily.

Swallowing, she stuck out her tongue.

“Ugh, too sweet.”

She thrust the churro at Ho-cheol.

“Eat it.”

“Come on, seriously?”

Despite his exasperated look, he took it.

Unsure whether to eat or toss it, he noticed Ye-jin staring longingly.

Even after shedding her frugal mindset, an expensive snack was daunting.

“Want it?”

Ho-cheol offered.

“You’re giving it to me?”

Her desperate expression suggested she’d eat it off the ground.

Ho-cheol didn’t want his student stooping so low.

“No way you’re eating someone else’s food.”

“I’m fine with it!”

Instead of the churro, he handed her his wallet.

“Just buy one.”

“Whoa!”

The old Ye-jin might’ve hesitated, but now she gleefully ran off to buy one.

“Next, the aurora simulation system booth!”

Se-ah bounced toward it.

“Busier than yesterday,” Ho-cheol muttered, biting the churro. Noticing a large crowd nearby, he remarked. Must be someone famous.”

“Yeah, even S-rank heroes don’t draw that much attention.”

Yesterday, S-rank heroes had visited, but Se-ah’s perfect itinerary avoided them, though their crowds were noticeable.

Today was three or four times larger.

“Maybe the Association president?”

It wasn’t an S-rank hero; their distinct aura was absent.

“A celebrity?”

That seemed more plausible.

Even if heroes were half-celebrities, actual stars still had pull.

“Whoever it is, doesn’t matter. This butter-grilled squid is way more important,” Se-ah said, crossing squid off her crumpled food list.

With most items checked, a few more booths would make the expo a success.

Humming, she pointed.

“That one! I wanted to try it!”

“Looks fancy. Does it make you taller or something?”

Thwack—

Before finishing, Ho-cheol clutched his side.

Se-ah’s tiny fist trembled with intent.

“That hurt.”

“It was supposed to!”

So-hee, Ye-jin, and even Da-yeon nodded in agreement.

“No one’s on my side,” Ho-cheol grumbled.

Heading to Se-ah’s booth, he stopped, his attention drawn back to the crowd.

“Something feels off.”

A baseless gut feeling, but one he never ignored—it had saved him as a villain.

Focusing, the noise faded, leaving him in silence.

He sensed something—or someone—within the crowd.

Not hidden or suppressed, but perfectly cloaked, almost invisible, like an empty void.

It was a strength entirely different from his own.

The moment he detected it, it sensed him too, more like a realization than detection.

Time seemed to stop for Ho-cheol.

A tranquil lake came to mind, but its scale was oceanic, mirror-smooth, chillingly still.

Beneath lay molten lava, raging storms, and crackling lightning.

Such vivid imagery belonged only to those who’d transcended mastery.

This figure stood on the same stage as Smiley and The Sun.

“You saw me.”

A voice seemed to echo.

The dense crowd parted, revealing a single man at the end of the path.

Their eyes met, moving beyond instinct to confirm each other’s identity through their senses.

Ho-cheol let out a disbelieving chuckle.

He tried to avoid swearing around students.

“Fuck.”

This time, he couldn’t hold it back.

Just his luck, meeting him here.

The other recognized Ho-cheol too.

The tranquil lake overturned, unleashing lava, storms, and lightning—a catastrophe aimed at him.

“Swordmaster.”

Ho-cheol named the calamity.