Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 74. Black Market

I smirked and shrugged.

“While I was rotting in prison, if you all became so squeaky clean that you cut all ties to that world, I’d be surprised. But that’s not the case, is it?”

Not long ago, a Legal Department executive who despised me used a similar tactic, hiring villains to attack me.

The head couldn’t respond.

High-ranking Association officials knew brokers, and those brokers connected to illegal fixers—common knowledge.

When things went south, they called them “brokers” or “fixers,” but they were just villains.

To the hesitating head, I added.

“You know this is a big deal for you, right?”

Da-yeon and even So-hee were targets.

This wasn’t just a social issue or the Hero Association’s duty—it was about agent safety.

A passive response or bad rumors could sap the morale of already overworked agents, or worse, lead to resignations, threatening the Legal Department’s existence.

“Huh.”

Leaning against the alley wall, the head sighed.

“I’ll pull her from surveillance duty…”

“Oh, come on. And then what? Assign a few B-rank guards? Against S-rank kidnappers?”

I clicked my tongue, waving him off.

He was missing the point.

He thought tagging along with me put her in danger, but would she stay indoors forever once my surveillance ended?

My explanation silenced him.

Protecting the person he was supposed to monitor—what a farce.

A cruel comedy, yet the best option.

A frantic agent rushed toward us.

“Head!”

Following him to the villain transport truck, we were speechless at the sight.

I muttered.

“Not a subordinate, just a test subject. No surprise there.”

The villain sent by the Organization, though battered by me, had at least retained human form.

But this—

“Sand-themed, huh?”

“That’s not funny,” the head snapped.

“Just a joke.”

The villain was shriveled like a mummy.

His faintly rising chest showed he was alive, but could a needle even pierce that?

“Why’s he like this?”

“Maybe a self-destruct Trait, remotely triggered. But his condition limited it to himself. The Organization doesn’t care.”

“That’s grim.”

Not that the head pitied him.

He’d hoped to extract info on Trait theft and transfer, but now the villain would need weeks of taxpayer-funded treatment.

“Anyway, this is your turf now. Handle it. I’ve got one more thing.”

“What?”

I pointed at the wrecked Bung-bung and So-hee, slumped over it.

“Lend me a car. Better than that one.”

* * *

Monday’s lecture rolled around.

My students gathered in the Training Hall for the first time in a while.

“Back to practical training,” I announced.

Didn’t feel like it had been that long.

The students, gripping their weapons tighter, thought the same.

“Alright.”

I waved a new stick I’d found near my dorm.

“Volunteers, as usual?”

* * *

After thrashing about ten students, it was a male student’s turn.

I sparred lightly, spotting a flaw in his stance and striking.

He blocked it.

My eyes lit up.

Alright, how about this?

I threw a tougher combo, one his skill shouldn’t handle if he hesitated.

He blocked that too.

He fell eventually, stamina giving out, exposing a vital spot.

Panting on the ground, he earned a small nod of approval from me.

“Not bad. Your skills have skyrocketed.”

His judgment, weapon handling, and Trait output had surged, his focus among the best in my class.

I hadn’t expected this leap.

Was he the type to grow through real combat?

“Impressive.”

My genuine praise stirred the students.

It was my first overt compliment.

The boy raised his head, grinning.

“Thank you!”

“You…”

Rubbing my chin, I pointed at him.

“One more round. Get up. Let’s see if you stay focused when exhausted.”

“Yes!”

The students buzzed louder.

My praise was rare, and this challenge was unprecedented.

Some, confident in combat, felt jealous they weren’t in his spot.

“Can I grab a sip of water?”

“Sure, but don’t catch your breath. Hurry and start.”

“Got it.”

He dashed to the corner where bags were lined up, opened his, and pulled out a tumbler.

Gulping water, he wiped his mouth and returned, striking a stance.

“Ready!”

“Hold on.”

I set down my stick, crossed my arms, and pointed at his tumbler on the ground.

“Bring that.”

Looking puzzled, he fetched it and handed it over.

I opened the lid.

Half full.

I sniffed, tilted it, letting a few drops hit my pinky nail, then tasted them.

My face twisted.

Spitting loudly—pfft—I wiped my mouth and asked?

“What’s this?”

“Huh?”

“Not water.”

Still grimacing, I pressed.

“Are you on drugs?”

“No, no!”

He waved his hands frantically.

“Just supplements! Like a tonic!”

I tilted the tumbler, drinking more, and clicked my tongue.

“Where’d you get it? Pharmacy? Hospital? Prescription?”

He hesitated, seeing my expression, then muttered.

If he lied, I’d check immediately.

“SNS.”

“Huh.”

I rubbed my face.

My usual blank expression returned, but it felt scarier than my earlier anger.

“SNS, huh? Must be popular. Easy to get, quick effects.”

He didn’t answer, but his silence confirmed it.

I scanned the room.

“Listen up. Anyone who’s tried these ‘supplements’ or ‘tonics,’ raise your hand.”

My harsh tone sank the mood.

Some students’ eyes shrank with nerves.

No one moved.

“Now!”

The training hall, supposedly missile-proof, shook.

My nerves were on edge.

“Haa.”

Sighing, I rubbed my face again.

My anger wasn’t just at them.

I was ashamed I hadn’t noticed my students using this crap.

Speaking low, I said.

“I’m not blaming or punishing anyone. I know you wanted to improve. But I’m doing this for you, so be honest.”

A few students, glancing at me, slowly raised their hands.

I noted their faces—decent in theory, shaky in practice.

“First, don’t take this.”

I poured out the tumbler’s contents.

“It boosts focus now, but the rebound’s brutal. Don’t feel it? That’s worse—it builds up and hits hard.”

I wagged my finger.

As the boy approached—

“So.”

Crack!

I kicked his stomach.

He collapsed, vomiting the drug.

“Get out what hasn’t been absorbed.”

I could’ve used gentler methods, but this was the price for recklessness.

“Those who took it, drink 5 liters of water before bed.”

Pulling a chair, I gestured them closer.

“Put your weapons away. Not time for combat talk.”

The lecture shifted to “Conditions for Hero Drug Use, Effects, and Side Effects.”

Not just ingredients or side effects—I described real consequences.

“For instant boosts, Etisetin and Novaciton are common. Given the price, probably Etisetin. Feels like time slows, right? Problem is, it doesn’t flush out, messes with neurotransmitters, and melts your brain. Addiction’s a bonus.”

Some students nervously pressed their heads.

“And the ‘tonic’ feeling? That’s Silvamin or Xenostream for strength. Colorless, odorless—likely Xenostream. Speeds reaction time, but your eye muscles go first. You’ll stare straight forever. And worse…”

I jabbed the ground with my stick.

“It kills your sex drive. Untreatable.”

The boys paled.

I shook my head. Should’ve led with that—no boy would touch it now.

Standing, I wrapped up.

“Those who raised their hands, go to the infirmary for detox shots. If you don't feel guilty, go too.”

With a grave look, I added.

“No drugs. There’s no free strength. You’ll pay more than you gain. If I catch anyone using it after this…”

A dense killing intent pressed the students.

Despite their combat experience, this was different.

“I’ll show you hell.”

Their choked responses came under my threat.

Crushing the stick, I said.

“Class dismissed.”

* * *

Right after, I stormed to the Dean’s office, summoning Se-ah through him.

It was my first time calling them, so they arrived with curiosity and confusion.

That faded as I explained the day’s events.

The mood turned heavy.

“You didn’t know?” I asked.

“Not at all,” Se-ah replied.

“Illegal drugs in the Academy. Unreal,” the Dean muttered.

The Dean was one thing, but Se-ah’s shock was telling.

She thought she was close to the students.

They wouldn’t admit to using stimulants, even to her, so it made sense.

“How widespread is it?”

“In my class, five or six were admitted. Including those who didn’t, maybe ten. That’s 25%. It’s on SNS, marketed as legit. Kids try it lightly, think, ‘Wow, it works,’ and share it. That’s how it spreads.”

The Dean, stroking his mustache, frowned.

“For a rumor since semester start, side effects are low.”

“They control the dose. Addicted or broken students end the business. Plus, it cuts costs.”

Bang!

Se-ah slammed the sofa’s armrest.

“Those bastards!”

Standing, she fumed. I asked calmly.

“What’re you doing?”

“What else? Find the dealers and crush them!”

“Will that stop the drugs on campus?”

She shut her mouth.

She knew the sellers were just middlemen, cutouts.

The real culprits hid, raking in cash.

The Dean, barely calm, said.

“I’ll issue a memo.”

“Think that’ll work? Kids don’t listen. Side effects come later, but the instant boost makes it spread faster.”

“Ugh, then what?”

I stood, grabbing the pacing Se-ah and sitting her down.

Finally, some peace.

“Stopping buyers or sellers is pointless. Find the makers and crush them.”

“How?”

Se-ah asked, jiggling her foot irritably.

These criminals were elusive.

Simple reason.

“Obviously in the black market.”

Even in this country, some places were beyond hero or government reach.

Hidden in dark alleys, they were near impossible to find.

Risking S-rank villain capture for drug peddlers?

Idealistic nonsense.

“Even we can’t touch the black market. I’ve got no ties there. You too, right, Dean?”

Groaning, the Dean nodded.

I knew that.

If I could use my old network, it’d be easy, but after ten years, those ties were gone.

Still, I was confident.

“The black market’s fine. Only the black market’s fine.”

I turned to the Dean.

“Get me a car.”

I’d used this month’s outing pass, but Academy business would cover it.

Surprised, the Dean asked?

“Going today?”

“Of course. Who knows how much they sell daily? Forget the memo—schedule a health checkup. Slip in a drug test; no one’ll notice.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

I pulled a card from my wallet.

“Thought I’d never use this.”

“Who’s that? S-rank hero?” Se-ah asked.

I chuckled.

My wallet wasn’t fat enough for S-rank cards.

“S-ranks are useless in the black market. This is far more valuable.”

I flicked the card between my fingers.

The gold triangle in its center glinted.