Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 75: Black Market (2)

I stepped out of my dorm, glancing around.

The Academy at midnight was eerily silent, not a soul in sight.

Sneaking out to reclaim my weapon at the Lunard Auction felt like a distant memory.

Unlike then, today’s outing was legal.

The Dean had contacted the Association, officially framing it as Academy business, and we agreed So-hee wouldn’t be my minder—someone from the Academy would take her place.

The destination: the black market, where the government’s reach was weak.

Bringing So-hee, an agent, was deemed too risky, and the Association didn’t object.

So-hee insisted she was fine coming along, but I shut her down.

I could protect her, sure, but dragging her into a situation where she wasn’t needed just meant extra hassle.

I placated her with a promise of souvenirs and walked down the path from the dorm.

Spotting a car under a streetlamp, I approached.

It was the same car as last time. I expected the Dean’s aide, but someone else waited.

“What’s this?”

Se-ah, arms crossed, leaned against the hood.

Unlike her usual attire, she wore casual activewear, flicking her sunglasses onto her head.

“Why so flat?”

She grinned cheekily. I scratched the back of my head.

“Where’s the original guy?”

“I’m the sub. Catching the scum peddling drugs to students—how could I sit still?”

“Fair enough.”

Rubbing my jaw, I nodded.

“Let’s go.”

“What? No ‘Why are you here?’ or anything?”

Her surprise at my calm reaction baffled me.

“You can drive, protect yourself, and think on your feet. Why would I object?”

“…Guess so?”

I climbed into the passenger seat.

Se-ah, still awkward, scratched her head, muttering, “That’s not the reaction I expected…” before sliding into the driver’s seat.

* * *

Past the dazzling streets, the car stopped before a building.

The pyramid of gold and jewels—the Lunard Auction—stood as imposing as ever.

“Why here?” Se-ah asked.

I didn’t answer, striding inside.

A suited staff member approached.

“Greetings. Your purpose—”

Last time, I showed a VIP code, but today I had something better.

I pulled a card from my pocket before he finished.

“Enough. Get someone who can handle this.”

The gold card, given by the Lunard Auction’s head with a promise of repayment, made the staff’s eyes widen behind his sunglasses.

Only 1% of Lunard’s VIPs held this card—a VIP among VIPs.

Realizing he couldn’t handle it, he bowed deeply.

“I’ll escort you immediately.”

Leading us to a VIP lounge, he touched his earpiece.

He wanted to pass us off.

Before reaching the lounge, the lobby manager and several supervisors rushed over, relieving him.

* * *

In a lounge reserved for the elite few, I lounged on a plush sofa while Se-ah, tense, inspected the room.

“This looks crazy expensive. Is it real gold and diamonds?”

As a seasoned hunter and A-rank hero, she’d amassed wealth, but even she hesitated to touch anything here.

A scratch could cost more than a dent in her life.

I chuckled.

“Why so nervous?”

“Who’s nervous? Look, it’s all shiny—great for scratching your back!”

Flaring up, she placed a hand on an ornate music box—thump—but a thin barrier from her Trait kept it untouched.

I laughed lightly.

Pouting, she flopped onto the sofa beside me.

“How’d you get these connections? Villain days?”

“Nah, recent.”

“What?”

I shut my mouth, realizing my slip.

The last Lunard visit was a secret between me and the Dean.

Explaining a contract breach would only stir trouble.

Se-ah was trustworthy, but there was no need to spill.

My silence turned her mouth triangular.

“Tch, fine. I’m not that curious.”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“When? You won’t!”

Unlike my earlier silence, I answered easily.

“When my sentence is cleared. I’ll be a civilian then—no embargo like now.”

“Oh.”

Complex emotions flickered in her eyes.

Chewing her lip, she tested the waters.

“Your sentence gets cut based on students’ graduation ranks, right? Once it’s cleared, you’re done teaching?”

“Not done—fired. My sentence is tied to their ranks. Once it’s gone, I’ve no reason to stay. I’m not qualified to teach anyway.”

“Hmm, true, but…”

She scratched the sofa’s armrest with her nail.

Tick, tick—irregular, unlike the wall clock.

“How long will that take?”

Without knowing my sentence or reduction details, her question carried unease.

I propped my chin on my hand, thinking.

“Well…”

Two S-rank students would clear it this term.

One S-rank cuts 100 years, and my sentence is under 200.

But life’s unpredictable.

Generously—

“Five years. Plus or minus one?”

“What?”

Her scratching stopped.

She whipped her head around, glaring.

“Five years? That’s it? Just done?”

I nodded casually.

She shot up.

“Five years? That’s nonsense!”

“It’s right here.”

“No way!”

She opened her mouth, but the lounge door swung open.

“Tch.”

Clicking her tongue, she sat back down.

The Lunard Auction’s head manager entered, looking troubled.

“Bad timing? I’ll step out.”

“Nah, if you didn’t interrupt, this’d drag on.”

“Haha, then I’ll be shameless.”

He sat across from me.

“We have a new face. A pleasure. I’m the Lunard Auction’s general manager.”

“You said head last time.”

“No auctions to oversee today.”

Se-ah bowed slightly.

Though irked by my words, she wasn’t childish enough to show it publicly.

“Sorry for dropping in. I would've called if I had a number.”

I flicked the card.

“No number.”

“We’re grateful. A chance to repay our debt. What brings you?”

Last auction, villains nearly stole a fortune.

Without me, Lunard would’ve lost not just money but its top-dog status.

I was basically holding a blank check.

Propping my chin, I said.

“I’m looking for someone. In the black market.”

“You came to the right place.”

He grinned.

“Lunard deals in anything profitable. Information’s no exception.”

Compared to true info brokers, Lunard lacked depth, but its sheer scale made up for it.

What others did with ten people and a billion, Lunard did with a hundred and ten billion.

“Who’re we looking for?”

“Drug peddlers in the black market.”

His confident expression cracked.

“Drug-only dealers, or those dabbling—there’s plenty. Tracking and sorting could take a day.”

“That’s fine. I’ve pinpointed specific mass-produced illegal drugs. They’re circulating outside the black market too.”

“Oh! That simplifies it. We can trace logistics, not people. But…”

He paused, eyeing me and Se-ah.

“That’s the deeper, darker part of the black market. A market within a market. They don’t reveal themselves to regular clients. You need credentials, but we can help.”

I grinned, crossing my legs.

“Exactly. I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t offered.”

“We’ll arrange it.”

I stood.

Se-ah, lost in the conversation, blinked.

* * *

Soon after, I emerged from the changing room, adjusting my sleeves uncomfortably.

“Feels weird.”

From shoes to socks, pants, shirt, and tie—all luxury, like wearing an upscale apartment.

To go beyond a mere guest in the black market and face its true players, you needed credentials.

Money.

And the easiest proof was clothing.

The next changing room door opened.

Se-ah stepped out, her usual confident stride replaced by awkward, uneven steps.

“Ugh… eh… huh.”

More uneasy than me, she kept checking her back.

She earned well and wore pricey clothes, but there was a limit.

Her entire account couldn’t buy the brooch or watch on her now.

Muttering worriedly, she said.

“What if I stain this? My salary wouldn’t cover cleaning.”

“It’s fine,” the manager, back from a brief absence, said.

“A gift for valued connections. Accept it freely.”

“Gift?!”

Se-ah bounced slightly, heels together.

She wanted to leap for joy but restrained herself, fearing damage.

That was her limit of excitement.

I chuckled softly.

“Are you happy?”

“Of course! Aristocrat-level clothes! I don’t skimp on fashion, but this is next-level.”

“Aristocrat, huh?”

Smiling lightly, I bowed slightly, offering my hand palm-up.

“Shall we?”

“Hmph.”

She snorted primly but placed her hand on mine.

Earlier, my words had sparked her outburst, but she felt a bit guilty.

My gesture eased it.

“I’m still a bit miffed, so escort me well.”

“As you wish.”

The manager handed me a paper.

“Here’s the list of individuals. Five match your criteria.”

I scanned it.

Lunard’s efficiency—names, appearances, addresses, all in under 20 minutes.

“Good. They’re nearby, so it won’t take long.”

“Yes. This trade sticks close. But…”

“I know. Make a scene, and they scatter. Basic stuff.”

“My apologies for stating the obvious.”

“Thanks for the gift.”

Before leaving, I added.

“You know…”

“My eyesight’s poor, and I forgot my glasses today. Couldn’t even see our benefactor’s face clearly.”

I smirked.

No glasses last time either.

His meaning was clear: he’d keep silent about my visit and everything that followed—exactly what I needed.

How wasn’t mind-reading his Trait?

He anticipated my needs perfectly, delivering textbook answers.

No wonder he was Lunard’s head.

One of the most competent people I’d met, even as a villain.

“Shame you missed this. Could’ve been valuable info.”

“No info’s worth my life.”

“Quick, sharp, and lucky.”

“I agree. Making this connection proves it.”

“Not that.”

Passing him, I whispered.

“If you’d met me ten years ago, you’d be dead. Lucky you met me now.”

Back then, I couldn’t stand competence in anyone not on my side.

Thud—

The door closed.

The manager unclenched his fist, revealing a sweat-soaked palm, oblivious to the lounge’s cool air.

Not even facing S-rank villains, captured monsters, or poison gas had tensed him like this.

Truly, he was lucky.

* * *

Outside, Se-ah asked, puzzled.

“Why not have them round up the guys?”

I chuckled, flicking the card.

“This is a cheat code in the black market, but I plan to milk it long-term.”

Their blank check for last time had limits, unseen but real.

They’d pull back once a threshold was hit.

They were merchants, not a charity.

“So, use it sparingly? Save it for later?”

“Yeah.”

She looked at me, half-exasperated, muttering.

“Sly bastard.”

“I prefer ‘thrifty.’”

I stepped forward.

The black market behind Lunard, a darker, more secretive corner, felt different.

Old signs cast eerie light, sewers reeked, and a slimy, unpleasant vibe lingered.

Hostile glances scanned us covertly.

Se-ah, frowning, muttered.

“Gross.”

“Ignore it. Chasing every look is work. They’re not dumb enough to mess with us.”

The glances faded, sensing our attire meant we weren’t to be trifled with.

In the black market, money was king, but knowing your place was survival.

Those who didn’t were dead.

Heading to the first listed location, Se-ah’s eyes widened at a stall.

“What’s that?”

Illegally modified hero support gear was displayed.

Unlike regulated equipment, these were black-market creations.

I flicked a mechanical arm’s finger.

“Legal gear has output limits.”

“The specs make it a weapon, not support.”

She admired the listed stats.

A strength-assist device boasted triple the power of legal models.

It’d explode if misused, but sellers didn’t care—buyers wouldn’t survive to complain.

Her gaze shifted to the next stall.

“What’s that?”

Her shock was warranted.

A market stall, but lined with monster byproducts: scales, claws, teeth, eyes, livers, lungs, hearts, neatly arranged for buyers.

“Unpermitted monster parts mean prison. They sell this openly?”

“Parts? Further in, you’ll see stuffed monsters.”

“No way.”

Even as a hunter and hero, she’d only heard rumors of this market’s depths.

“And worse is everywhere.”

Before I finished, she froze, spotting military-marked weapons at another shop, utterly detached from common sense.

After more walking, we reached the first location.

No sign, just a house-like exterior, but I didn’t hesitate, opening the door and stepping inside.