The door exploded, sending shards flying through the air.
Despite the sudden explosion, Ho-cheol remained calm.
The moment he realized the dean’s true identity, he had anticipated such a situation.
He lightly tapped his thigh with the tip of his index finger.
The accident accelerates.
Within the compressed time, even the explosion seemed endlessly slow.
The shards were the only issue; the force of the explosion was not significant.
Even without using his abilities, he wouldn’t get a scratch.
Still, it hurt his pride to be hit bare-bodied.
His clothes would be shredded as well.
Ho-cheol lightly clenched his fist.
But before he could throw a punch,
So-hee spread her arms and blocked him.
Ho-cheol was astonished.
No, it was beyond mere surprise; he was dumbfounded.
Being protected by someone else was a rare occurrence in his life.
Especially since there was an overwhelming difference in capability between him and So-hee, and she knew it well.
It was a purely heroic act, moved without any calculation of interests or gains.
It felt awkward, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.
He relaxed the hand that was clenched into a fist and instead reached out to grasp the collar of So-hee’s shirt, pulling her back sharply.
“Kek!”
So-hee bit her tongue and let out a foolish scream, but it was better than having a hole in her body.
As he pulled her back, he lightly rolled his foot.
Bang!
The shockwave created by stamping the floor repelled the incoming shards.
Ho-cheol turned around.
So-hee was rubbing her tailbone, wincing as she sat on the ground.
He extended his hand.
“I take back what I said about you being a loser. You’re a real hero.”
So-hee wore a blank expression for a moment, then her eyes widened.
She chuckled dejectedly and took his hand.
“I did apologize when I first called you a loser, but I never took it back.”
“I can’t say things I don’t mean.”
“Thanks anyway.”
From inside, an old man’s voice could be heard again.
“Stop dawdling and come in; people are waiting.”
“What right do you have to say that after blowing up the door first?”
Ho-cheol replied gruffly and stepped inside.
The spacious room reminded more of a study than an office, with the dean standing with his hands behind his back, facing away from the window.
Though a bit older, it was the face Ho-cheol remembered.
“Ah, it’s a face I’ve missed.”
The appearance was of an ordinary old man, except for the black eye patch covering his left eye, which was strikingly out of place.
The dean stared at Ho-cheol and clicked his tongue.
“Huh, it really is you, Jeong Ho-cheol.”
“Was there a fake Jeong Ho-cheol, then?”
“It seems prison was bearable enough for you to survive.”
“Did you already plan my funeral and look for a burial spot?”
The conversation was too sharp to be considered a greeting.
The dean, who had been standing with his hands behind his back, raised one to adjust his eyepatch.
“Ten years is indeed a long time. To think I can maintain my composure with the person who gouged out my left eye right in front of me. In the past, I would have charged at you immediately.”
“Sorry, or actually, I’m not sorry. Anyway, that incident was your karma. I almost died because of you then. Losing one eye was getting off cheap.”
The dean’s ability was extremely simple.
He could turn any inanimate object he touched into a bomb.
The power of the explosion increased with the size of the object transformed.
“So, who goes on a rampage in someone else’s place of business? And you weren’t even a hero.”
“If someone heard you, they might think it was all legal.”
Even when he had turned an entire small island into a bomb and detonated it, Ho-cheol thought he was done for.
It was purely by luck that he survived.
“So, why did you blow up the door all of a sudden?”
“Just a light greeting… and a way to vent.”
“You would.”
“If you really mean that was just for venting…”
So-hee, who had been silently listening, interjected.
“I will formally protest on behalf of the association.”
“Don’t get too heated. My hero rating turned into a disability rating because of that guy. Can’t I even vent this much?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Eh.”
The dean scratched at his eyepatch.
“This time we have a narrow-minded hero here. Complaining won’t do any good anyway.”
“What?”
He pointed to the pieces of the door scattered on the floor.
“They’re just made of styrofoam, designed to look decent. The explosion was weak, and the actual power was probably just about as strong as the fireworks on a birthday cake. I swapped it out right away thinking of giving Jeong Ho-cheol a scare.”
At that, So-hee stepped on a fragment of the door.
Even though she only put a little weight on it, it crumbled too easily.
Ho-cheol scratched the back of his head.
“I had no idea.”
How could one tell if a door was made of wood or styrofoam?
The dean seemed pleased with himself and shrugged.
“Like I said, just venting. I’m satisfied since you saw something good.”
She sighed.
It was clear that formally protesting would be futile.
“Still, please restrain yourself in the future.”
“Alright, alright.”
“If you’ve received both a hero and a disability rating, doesn’t that mean your benefits have increased? Buy me a meal sometime.”
Ignoring Ho-cheol’s sarcasm, the dean pointed to a nearby sofa.
“Standing and talking is too bothersome, sit down first.”
Ho-cheol narrowed his eyes and lightly kicked the sofa with the tip of his foot.
“This isn’t another one of your bombs, is it?”
“It’s an expensive sofa, so don’t leave footprints on it.”
“Then it must be safe.”
Ho-cheol plopped down on the sofa.
So-hee took a seat opposite him, while the dean settled into the main seat at the center.
The dean clicked his tongue again, looking at Ho-cheol who crossed his legs and leaned back comfortably.
“As I thought, not even worth a cup of coffee for you. Just listen.”
“I wouldn’t want coffee you made anyway. Who knows if you turned the sugar into a bomb?”
Ignoring Ho-cheol’s comment, the dean turned to So-hee.
“It’s different for Jeong Ho-cheol, but since you are a guest, let me offer you something. Would you like a drink?”
So-hee smiled awkwardly and declined.
“I’m fine.”
Given the tense atmosphere and Ho-cheol’s recent comment, she felt uneasy.
“It seems I’ve created a strange impression. Well, good. Let’s get straight to business then.”
The dean handed over a document.
“You’ll be in charge of the entire sophomore class of the Augmentation series. The total number of students is 43. The subject you will handle is [Advanced Applications of Augmentation Traits] for 210 minutes, a 4-credit course.”
Still focused on the document, he muttered in amazement.
“Handling an entire grade, that’s a big responsibility.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Hardly.”
Whether it’s a C or B grade, as long as they graduate with a hero rating, he’s eligible for sentence reduction.
He had expected to be responsible for only about a dozen students in a split class, so this was a pleasant surprise.
He had read about half of the document when a sudden doubt made him frown.
“But why sophomores, not freshmen? I thought once you take a class, you stick with them until graduation. What happened to the previous professor?”
The dean, showing a weariness not seen before, sighed.
“No matter that the faculty is made up of former heroes, in the end, humans always make mistakes at crucial times.”
“Sounds like a major screw-up.”
Ho-cheol nodded, understanding.
Unauthorized access to personal records and sharing them, leaking exam questions, or manipulating grades.
Just off the top of his head, dozens of misconducts came to mind.
Probably committed one of those.
He set the document down on the table in front of him.
“Done. I’ve read it.”
“Ah, and for the mandatory courses by series, you can choose your lecture times first. We might have to coordinate if there are overlaps, but go ahead and pick.”
“Lecture times, huh? I’ll need to think about that.”
Ho-cheol leaned his elbow on the armrest and propped his chin on his hand, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek with his index finger, pondering.
It was not an easy decision to make.
Unlike other lectures, at least his would be practical and focused on real-world application.
Since the efficiency of trait training varied greatly depending on physical condition and stamina, it naturally made sense to schedule classes when students were at their peak physically.
Then, when are academy students most fit and in condition?
“When is the first class?”
“Regular lecture times are from 9 AM to 1 PM, and from 1 PM to 5 PM.”
The dean looked at Ho-cheol with expectant eyes. It didn’t matter to him what time slot Ho-cheol would choose; he planned to use coordination as an excuse to slot him into the Monday 9 AM class regardless.
A 210-minute class starting at 9 AM on Monday. The very thought was dreadful.
This was the best revenge the current dean could offer.
After finishing his contemplation, Ho-cheol opened his eyes and said, “Monday, first class. So, set it for Monday at 9 AM.”
So-hee and the dean looked at him as if astounded, but Ho-cheol couldn’t understand their reactions.
Isn’t 9 AM quite relaxed?
He was a high school graduate.
***
After Ho-cheol and So-hee had left, the dean slowly tried to rise from his seat.
As he half stood up, he staggered greatly.
Ultimately, his legs gave out, and he slumped back down into his seat, leaning against the backrest of the sofa.
“Heh.”
It was a weary laugh.
He pulled a document from his pocket—a report sent by the association a few days earlier about Ho-cheol.
[Has established his own moral standards and strives to adhere to them. Long-term imprisonment and the administration of trait suppressants suggest it is unlikely he will demonstrate his former capabilities. Deemed sufficiently controllable by the academy’s internal personnel.]
This was written by no one else but the director of the association’s legal department, who had interviewed Ho-cheol personally.
He folded the report with disbelief and tapped it against his forehead.
“Director, that young fellow really lacks discernment.”
There were parts of the assessment he could agree with.
The old Ho-cheol would have been utterly indifferent if an agent next to him were caught in an explosion; he might have even pushed them forward to use as a shield.
Yet, he had clearly helped the agent who protected him.
To the dean, who knew the original Ho-cheol, this was a massive shock.
The petition was true—he really had reformed.
At the very least, he was making an effort to change.
But the claim that his capabilities had declined was not just incorrect—it was ludicrous.
“After all, the guy was just a lower A-tier, so maybe it’s natural he couldn’t feel it. When one reaches such a level, it indeed becomes a quiet existence.”
The difference was not just in power; it was an overwhelming disparity in level, a kind that the weak could not even perceive.
To an ant, an elephant’s leg appears as merely a vast pillar; how could it conceive that it is part of a larger living creature?
Only when rising to the level of a dog or a cat might one begin to comprehend the existence of an elephant.
Ho-cheol was already at a singularity that transcended the dichotomous standards of heroes and villains, akin to the celebrated hero [Tae-yang].
The hope of humanity, the hero among heroes, known as [Smiley].
“How could he become even stronger in just ten years? No matter how I think about it, it seems wiser to keep such a monster quietly locked up.”
He tucked the report back into his pocket.
“Is this the right choice?”
***
Three days had passed since Ho-cheol was released, and during those three days, nothing happened.
With ten days left until the new term started, it was foolish to expect any significant events.
Ho-cheol’s daily routine was monotonous: wake up, wash, eat, wander around the academy, return to the lodging at sunset, eat again, and then sleep.
He wanted to familiarize himself with the academy’s geography before classes began, but it wasn’t easy given its city-like size; just touring the grounds took days.
Although Ho-cheol would have found it much easier to get around by car, the association, worried about the possibility of his escape, strictly controlled his access to personal transport, leaving him no choice but to walk.
Using So-hee as a chauffeur wasn’t an option either, especially not at the crack of dawn when she wasn’t even working.
“I move faster on foot anyway. Why is a car considered a higher escape risk?”
Furthermore, it was absurd that bicycles were allowed but motorcycles were not, especially since he didn’t even have a license for powered vehicles.
“It’s clear that those pencil-pushers in the office have air conditioning brains,” he muttered to himself as he walked.
After about an hour of walking, feeling hunger rising from his gut, Ho-cheol looked for a place to eat breakfast.
Eating on the street at dawn seemed too dismal, even if the streets were deserted.
Then, a dull sound caught his attention.
It was a rhythmic double thud that puzzled him at first, but he soon realized what it was.
“An archery range?”
As he approached the source of the sound, just as he had guessed, an archery range appeared.
Hidden by thick bushes that acted as a natural screen, the range had a mysteriously secluded ambiance.
“An archery range, huh. They really do have everything here.”
Normally, he would have just noted its existence and moved on, but this time was different.
There wasn’t much choice for breakfast anyway, and the setting seemed just right.
It was a good opportunity to watch some archery while he was there.
“At this hour? Must be some really diligent people around.”
Humming a tune, Ho-cheol walked towards the entrance of the archery range.
***
Arriving at the archery range, Ho-cheol furrowed his brows as he surveyed the area.
There were five targets set up at various positions, but there was only one shooting stand, designed as if for just one person.
At this stand stood a woman.
Her white hair, reaching down to her lower back, was neatly tied to avoid getting caught in the quiver, and despite the cool weather, sweat was on her forehead.
What caught Ho-cheol’s attention most was the woman’s attire—a white academy uniform with a hint of pale blue.
Honestly, he was quite surprised.
School hadn’t even started yet, but here she was, already dressed in uniform, seemingly overflowing with pride for the academy.
Or perhaps it was just her preference.
Well, as long as she could shoot an arrow well, what did it matter what she wore?
He sat down on a nearby bench, opened his bag, and took out some bread and milk he’d brought for breakfast.
The student shooting the arrows seemed to notice his presence but didn’t spare him a glance, continuing to pull her bowstring.
She released the tension in the string.
Thwump—!
The arrow shot through the air and struck dead center of the target, all four shots striking without a single deviation from 200 meters away.
Ho-cheol’s body twitched at the sight, but he regained his composure and began unwrapping his bread.
Thwump—!
“Mmm.”
He chewed on his bread, nodding his head.
Thwump—!
“Hooh.”
With each shot the student fired, Ho-cheol made noises akin to exclamations.
Thwump—! Thwump—!
“Hmm.”
Despite Ho-cheol’s interruptions, the student steadily emptied her quiver.
Thwump—!
“Heh.”
The student reached for another arrow in her quiver and realized it was her last.
As she was about to set it on the bowstring, Ho-cheol let out a small sigh.
His blatantly obvious distraction was enough to momentarily stop the student’s hand, even though she had been intentionally ignoring him up to this point.
Ho-cheol knew well that his behavior was impolite.
Normally, he wouldn’t do something like this, but he couldn’t help himself.
With a straw in his mouth, he muttered almost under his breath.
“That’s not how you shoot an arrow.”
Cliche Novel 