Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 77: The Organization

The old man reacted as if he’d been waiting for me.

No surprise there.

The Clairvoyance Trait and the moniker [Sage] weren’t earned at a poker table.

My arrival was within his predictions.

The golden glow beneath his bandages fixed on me.

“So, have you studied any Go in the last ten years?”

I didn’t answer, just tapped the black stone I’d placed.

“Right. No need for words.”

The old man’s lips twitched as he picked up a white stone.

“8, 8.”

“5, 12.”

“14, 14.”

“Not aiming for a big win, just checking me. Stingy moves.”

“I’m not playing to win.”

My first reply since we started.

“I play to piss off my opponent.”

I placed another stone in the most annoying spot, not the optimal one.

The old man muttered, incredulous.

“You’re insane. Fine, let’s see if your skill matches half your attitude.”

How many moves did we exchange?

He silently traced the stones on the board, calculating.

The result: my win.

Clicking his tongue, he grumbled.

“You bastard. Spent ten years in prison studying Go?”

“Not exactly a place generous with boards.”

I crossed my arms, smirking.

“Besides, I didn’t improve—you just haven’t. Same old skill.”

“Tch, kid. So many fun things out there—why waste time on this tiny board? Just killing time.”

“Killing time, huh.”

I rolled a black stone in my hand, thinking.

“You vanished, retired. Why show up now?”

“Waiting. For a new era.”

He grinned, mouth wide, the glow beneath his bandages brighter.

“Until now, no matter how the scales tipped, it was just heroes and villains scrapping. Watching a two-sided balance—what’s the fun? But now, a new arm’s on the scales. I’m dying to see what happens. Couldn’t just watch from my room!”

He slammed the board with his palm.

Thud—

The stones scattered, but he didn’t care, pounding the board gleefully.

“You, a hero and a villain—how’ll you shape the board?”

“That’s a bit…”

I rubbed my mouth, exasperated.

“I’m no hero, but I’m working for justice on the hero side—”

“Idiot.”

He slammed the board again, cutting me off.

“You know better than anyone that working for justice doesn’t mean it’s for heroes.”

I was speechless.

As a villain, chasing self-interest sometimes benefited heroes.

The reverse was true too.

He wasn’t wrong.

Back then, my greed occasionally helped heroes, so the opposite could happen.

Still, saying it outright to mess with me—his nasty streak hadn’t changed.

Picking up a fallen stone, he said.

“Had a good laugh. I’ll answer one question.”

I’d been waiting for that.

Finding him and getting him to talk was tough.

His Trait was a cheat code for tracking.

Sure, he gave vague hints with his rotten personality, but in a bind like this, even those were gold.

No reason not to use it.

Crouching, I propped my elbows on my knees, chin in hand, and sighed.

“The Organization. No matter how I search, I can’t catch their tail. The ones I nab are small fry. Weird, right? It’s no small group, yet their info control’s perfect.”

“The Organization, huh. You’d ask about them.”

His usual grin turned serious, then back to a sly smirk with a chuckle.

“Like you said, they’re perfectly hidden. No group that big could hide in this country’s light or shadow. Even my Trait couldn’t spot their base.”

“Overseas?”

I frowned.

Clairvoyance barely covered the nation.

If their base was abroad, it’d be invisible.

I hadn’t expected that scale, even with teleportation Traits.

It was grim.

My operations were limited, and foreign heroes were unreliable.

“Just say it clearly.”

My grumbling only amused him.

Giving vague hints and watching me squirm was his fun.

As I racked my brain, Se-ah, crouching beside me, spoke up.

“Why assume overseas?”

My head whipped toward her.

“If it’s not in the light or shadow of this country, there’s another place.”

“Where?”

Her shrug met my intense stare.

“A gate.”

A hypothesis hit me.

I shot up, yanking out my phone and hitting the phone.

Dawn or not, that didn’t matter.

While I wrestled with the phone, Se-ah slid into my spot, facing the old man.

“You’re really the Sage?”

“Yup.”

She glanced around, lowering her voice.

“Any way to get a growth potion?”

“A national-level voyeur beggar wouldn’t know.”

She pouted.

* * *

4 a.m.

Back at the Academy, I summoned the Dean, dawn be damned, and So-hee too.

“Ugh, what’s this about?”

So-hee, dragged out in pajamas with a coat thrown on, rubbed her eyes.

“You’re involved, so you should hear this.”

Perched on the sofa’s armrest, I explained the night’s events.

Catching the drug peddler took three sentences.

Then I got to the real point: meeting the Sage, his info, and the answer it led to.

I formed a gun shape with my thumb and index finger.

“The Organization. Their base might be in a gate.”

“That explains why we only catch their tail.”

The Dean’s reaction was calm.

I’d briefed him earlier, so he’d guessed as much.

“But the odds?”

“Fifty-fifty would be a lie. 30%… no, 20%.”

No certainty.

They could just be overseas—more likely, realistically.

They had large-scale, long-range movement Traits.

But I couldn’t dismiss the gate theory.

Pure instinct.

If I were still a villain, hiding my group, I’d pick a gate, risks be damned.

So-hee, pondering, asked?

“Living in a gate for weeks would drive anyone mad. Is that possible?”

Even for high-earning hunters, gates weren’t popular for a reason.

Extreme environments.

Not just heat, cold, humidity, or gravity—unimaginable physics, overpowered monsters, untreatable viruses, warped spacetime.

“Mad’s the least of it. Mess up, you end up like me,” Se-ah quipped.

Her appearance was a gate exposure side effect.

She was lucky—others suffered worse.

Self-sustaining in a dungeon was deemed impossible.

I’d thought the same until Se-ah’s comment.

I’d ruled out gates entirely.

It was a knowledge gap.

Se-ah answered So-hee’s question.

“Dungeon terraforming tech’s advanced a lot.”

Some resource-rich dungeons were left unconquered for long-term profit.

Humans would do anything for money—even tame harsher-than-space environments.

“It’s half-baked theory, but with risks, you could live there.”

So-hee tilted her head, asking me.

“What about MT island? Wasn’t that terraformed?”

“Different. Erosion-type gates aren’t ‘inside.’ Our world’s laws dominate, so Clairvoyance would catch it.”

Clearing her doubt, I pulled out a map.

“This?”

“Unconquered, dormant gate map. Got it from Lunard.”

It listed gate locations.

Undiscovered gates were possible, but I’d worry about that after checking these.

Se-ah, elbows and chin on the table, tapped a spot with a pen.

“Here. Looks suspicious. Thoughts?”

“How do we check it?”

“Hire hunters, obviously,” the Dean said.

“My money again?”

Until sunrise, the four of us strategized over the map.

* * *

The Organization’s emergency executive meeting, held at dawn, had no absences or tardiness.

Who’d dare be late with their life on the line?

“All here?”

At the head, the boss’s single line oozed displeasure.

She lightly tapped the armrest.

The small tremor shook the room.

“You know why you’re here.”

Her voice, stripped of emotion, carried rage that silenced and shrank everyone.

The overwhelming pressure buckled the table.

She clicked her tongue.

All held their breath.

Her gaze landed on a middle-aged man cowering at the table’s end.

“Doctor.”

“Y-yes!”

He answered frantically.

“Didn’t you say it had average S-rank power?”

“T-that’s—”

“Yet it failed. Was there an S-rank hero there?”

“…No.”

She sighed long.

“You’re not our subordinate—a partner. But wasting resources with no results makes me question this partnership.”

He swallowed, tense.

He knew this was a turning point.

Would he walk, crawl, or not leave alive?

His answer decided it.

“It’s—”

No chance to speak.

“Failure demands accountability.”

She flicked her finger.

Red thorny vines shot from the floor, wrapping his arm, crushing it with a sickening sound.

“Urgh… ugh.”

Biting his lip, he stifled groans.

She folded her finger; the vines vanished.

“Don’t forget. Transactions are give-and-take. That’s payment for your failures. Tell him: if this deal feels useless, I’ll end it.”

“T-thank you for your mercy.”

Her gaze shifted to the others.

“The rest of you should bear responsibility too.”

The word “responsibility” made them gasp.

“Arm or leg…”

As she mused chillingly, a grunt burst in.

Bang!—

A low-ranking member stormed in.

Normally, they’d rage, but not now.

Anything to break this suffocating mood was welcome.

Hiding grins, they asked what was wrong.

Panting, he reported,

“Branch 7’s been wiped out!”

Disappointed, they realized it wasn’t urgent.

“A single branch? Why the fuss?”

“Heroes again? Handle it like usual. No need for—”

“Not heroes—villains!”

“Villains?”

The boss showed interest, lifting her chin from her hand to eye the grunt.

“Two hours ago, the report had no attacks. A branch wiped out in two hours?”

“Y-yes!”

“Branch 7 had decent firepower. Which villain?”

“[The Sun]! No, [Eclipse] himself moved!”

Now they understood his panic.

The boss frowned, displeased.

“Tch. Him again.”

Villain [Eclipse].

Once the top hero, now renamed.

His reputation drew villains to him without effort.

His bold moves made it easier for the Organization to act, but lately, their territories overlapped.

With Eclipse himself moving, their branches were annihilated without resistance.

They’d used him as a decoy, but who expected him to backstab?

Now, he was more of a liability than an asset.

Even a decoy branch’s loss stung.

“What now?” an executive asked?

She waved dismissively.

“Go check? It’s just corpses. Clean it up.”

“Yes.”

Another grunt rushed in, pale.

“Emergency from Branch 4! Eclipse’s attacking!”

Unlike others, Branch 4 wasn’t a decoy—it handled critical supply transport in gates.

Its loss was troublesome.

“Old relic crossing the line.”

The boss stood.

“Open the door.”

To their shock, she declared.

“I’ll kill him myself.”