Why so obsessive?
Without knowing Da-yeon’s background, current situation, or feelings, Ho-cheol couldn’t understand her proposal.
Da-yeon answered simply.
“I don’t have a proper mentor to teach me archery. Even with all my family’s connections, most heroes who specialize in archery focus on manipulation or release types. As someone with only an enhancement trait, their guidance would be useless to me.”
Ho-cheol was about to ask why there were no enhancement type archers, but he closed his mouth again.
The enhancement type archer hero he knew was S-class, incredibly busy in the past, with hardly any personal time. Would he be any less busy now?
Even if he had time, it was doubtful he’d teach just any student.
He slowly nodded.
“That could be true. But I’m not the expert on archery you think I am. I barely exceed beginner level. If I were to teach you, I’d run out of things to teach in two days.”
At Ho-cheol’s exaggeration, Da-yeon asked incredulously.
“Has that ever been exposed?”
“…No. I’ve never taught anyone before.”
“Then it’s settled. It’s an issue that hasn’t even arisen yet. We can worry about it if it happens. Besides, I haven’t even surpassed beginner level yet.”
Ho-cheol couldn’t argue with that.
“That’s true too. But is that really the only reason?”
Da-yeon glanced left and right. There were more reasons, but she didn’t want to say more.
However, Ho-cheol’s glance showed no interest, maybe even distrust. If she said that was all, he would definitely refuse.
After a moment of thought, she placed her hand over her heart.
‘I wanted to keep this a secret because I’m embarrassed…’
“Next, you’re the only one who recognized my talent.”
“Talent?”
“Yes, everyone around me says I have no talent for archery. They say it’s a waste of time, just an inefficient detour. But not you. What kind of incredible insight must you have had to see something in me? I’m so curious. If I really have talent, wouldn’t the person who discovered it be the best to develop it?”
Ho-cheol was surprised.
Certainly, her archery wasn’t the work of a genius or a ridiculous talent, but she had enough potential to make a living.
He leaned his chin on his hand and spoke nonchalantly.
“That’s not really about my great insight, but more about everyone else around being blind.”
His blunt honesty was striking.
Da-yeon’s eyes widened unexpectedly at the sudden praise.
She quickly turned to the side.
Her neatly organized hair became disheveled. She covered her mouth and coughed repeatedly as she glanced at Ho-cheol.
To say such a thing all of a sudden. She vigorously shook her head, regaining her composure and returning to her expressionless mask.
“And lastly.”
Da-yeon opened her mouth to change the subject.
“All the guys gathered in this classroom are blind.”
“What? You’re suddenly bad-mouthing your classmates?”
“That’s not it.”
This was the biggest reason she had offered Ho-cheol the scout position.
“They just dismiss you as merely a C-class villain. They probably won’t acknowledge you until the end of the lecture.”
“Hmm. Is that so?”
Ho-cheol murmured, stroking his chin.
He had no intention of agreeing. In the next lecture, he planned to demonstrate ‘the overwhelming difference in power,’ the ‘absolute enemy that can’t be defeated.’
Would they still look down on him then?
As a professor, he might not be acknowledged, but if they couldn’t recognize that level of power and class difference, then that was really madness.
Of course, he couldn’t spoil the next lecture’s content, so he just nodded vaguely.
“That seems to be the mood right now.”
“I can’t stand people not recognizing someone I acknowledge.”
The idea of sharing a gem just because it was found in mud, regarded as dirty by ignorant fools, was not something Da-yeon was willing to endure.
Her clenched fist trembled.
This was a different, intense emotional expression from when Ho-cheol praised her. Once the shaking stopped, she spoke firmly.
“I acknowledge you as a professor, even if you’re a C-class villain.”
“Geez, a student deciding whether to acknowledge a professor.”
It should have felt good to be recognized, but the mention of being C-class was stuck in his throat like swallowed food.
“Well, okay. I understand the intent of your proposal is not disrespectful. So I’ll just say it outright.”
Ho-cheol crossed his legs and replied.
“In the end, I can’t do it. You may wish I would just quit, but that’s impossible. No matter what backing you have.”
Initially, Ho-cheol couldn’t accept the proposal. He was a C-class villain only superficially. In reality, he was a heinous villain whose records had been erased.
Not the Minister of Justice, the Dean, or any other high officials would let Ho-cheol go.
“Even if I could mobilize an S-class hero?”
Da-yeon’s confident attitude remained, but Ho-cheol was still unflustered.
“Yeah. Unless you persuade all the S-class heroes, it’s impossible.”
That was what he had expected. Only with an S-class hero’s backing could one negotiate with the Justice Department and the Academy.
“Especially even if you convince all the S-class heroes.”
He looked at Da-yeon more seriously than ever.
“I won’t do it.”
“Why?”
Da-yeon was merely baffled by his reaction.
It was an overly generous proposal, purely beneficial for Ho-cheol, which is why she had confidently stood before him, certain he would accept.
“Why? Just because I don’t like it.”
With those words, Ho-cheol stepped down from the podium. He waved his hand dismissively as he started to leave the classroom. Or rather, attempted to leave. Da-yeon reached out and grabbed the hem of his departing figure.
“Explain.”
He slowly turned his head back. Da-yeon spoke in an urgent tone.
“I’ve told you all my honest feelings and reasons.”
“So, I have to tell you my reasons honestly too?”
“If you respect me as a student.”
Ho-cheol glared back at Da-yeon, still gripping his hem.
Unyielding, she met his gaze directly.
“Ah, kids these days really won’t let anything go,” Ho-cheol grumbled, looking away first.
Should he tell her or not?
Contemplating this, he crossed his arms and waved his left hand dismissively.
“You’re not qualified.”
“Qualified?”
“Yes.”
With that, he seemed to indicate he had no further explanation to give, lightly pushing away the hand that was holding his hem.
Leaving Da-yeon standing like a statue, he headed for the classroom door.
As he touched the doorknob, he turned back.
“Just focus on the lectures for now. That should be enough to make you an A-class hero.”
“But I want to be an S-class.”
Ho-cheol chuckled and flicked his index finger back and forth, signaling her to come closer.
Da-yeon, as if enchanted, approached, and they were now only a few steps apart.
At such a close distance, where even their breathing could be heard, Ho-cheol’s action was swift.
He curled his flicking index finger into a circle and then sharply tapped Da-yeon’s forehead.
Snap!
With a resonant pop, Da-yeon clutched her forehead.
“Ouch!”
“Looking at you right now, you’re talking about being S-class when you’re barely fit for C-class.”
A realm that even the most talented must strive relentlessly to reach.
It was not a level a mere student could casually speak about.
“Stop the nonsense. Come on Saturday after lunch to the archery range. I’ll at least look at your posture. I’ll teach you everything, scraping the bottom of the barrel.”
Crouching down, rubbing her forehead, Da-yeon answered in a whisper.
“……Yes.”
“It’s getting cold, so dress warmly. Last time I saw you, you were wearing too thin.”
With that, Ho-cheol pulled the door handle and left the classroom.
Left alone in the spacious classroom, Da-yeon took a deep breath.
An unexpected failure.
Yet, she was neither discouraged nor saddened.
She had experienced worse failures and more miserable situations.
This was hardly even a trial by comparison.
Moreover, she had secured a modest achievement—she would be learning archery personally every Saturday.
Rising from her seat, she felt her forehead.
A small bump was forming where she had been flicked.
He was the first to ever hit her.
She wasn’t in the mood for sentimental thoughts.
She pulled out her cellphone from her pocket.
Before even the first ring sounded, a low voice came through from the other side.
[Yes, miss.]
“Please investigate someone for me. It’s a bit challenging. The association and the academy are managing it. Okay.”
What kind of qualifications does Ho-cheol desire?
She couldn’t even begin to fathom that yet, but one day, she would definitely find out.
“Characteristics? I can send you the basic profile and a photo right away.”
After a moment of hesitation, she lowered her gaze.
She fiddled with the fabric of her clothes over her chest with her free hand.
The outfit seemed thinner than expected—was it a little too chilly for the crisp weather of early spring?
She chuckled softly and gave a short reply.
“Other than being kinder than expected, I don’t really know much.”
***
After the lecture ended, Ho-cheol was preparing a detailed lecture curriculum in his dormitory when lunchtime came around before he knew it.
Usually, he’d make do with side dishes brought by So-hee or convenience store lunchboxes, but he had heard that the cafeteria had opened now that the semester had started.
Since it wasn’t too far from the dorm, he decided to take a look.
Arriving at the cafeteria, he stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping at the sight before him.
Snapping back to his senses, he muttered blankly.
“What… Why is there so much?”
The cafeteria was packed with people.
He hadn’t expected it to be this popular.
Regaining his composure, he quickly scanned his surroundings.
Where was the ordering area?
It was already disorienting as a first-timer, and the crowd made it even more confusing.
He slowly made his way to a long queue and joined the end of the line.
As the line in front disappeared, new people formed a queue behind him.
The endless chain of people—could this be considered a kind of perpetual motion?
While having such absurd thoughts, he suddenly realized the line had cleared ahead of him.
What greeted him was the cold, solid steel heart of a machine that seemed devoid of human emotion.
‘This is my first time seeing a meal ticket dispenser like this.’
Ho-cheol didn’t even know the name of the machine before him.
A kiosk.
For Ho-cheol, who had been out of touch with the world for 10 years, the kiosk was an incomprehensible piece of alien technology.
He froze with his index finger hovering uncertainly.
“Well… This or that, it’s the same thing.”
But at its core, it was just a meal ticket dispenser, albeit digital.
The algorithm for dispensing tickets should be the same.
Ho-cheol boldly pressed the “Order” button on the screen.
Press this, and then this…
Wait, was this wrong?
He wasn’t sure what he’d done incorrectly, but the screen suddenly returned to the start menu.
Calmly, he selected the menu again and moved to the next screen…
“Ah.”
He accidentally chose the takeout option instead of dining in.
Reluctantly, he pressed the cancel button and returned to the start.
Takeout at a school cafeteria? The thought left a bitter taste on his tongue.
Ho-cheol was aware that the gazes stabbing into the back of his head were increasing.
Stay calm.
Getting worked up would only make it worse.
What he needed now was a cool head and quick action.
After overcoming several more hurdles, he finally reached the payment button—or so he thought.
In a fleeting moment of misjudgment, he pressed the house-shaped button below it instead.
A shocking message followed.
[Returning to the start menu.]
All his effort up to that point was wiped clean.
Ho-cheol stood there, dazed, forgetting even that he needed to reorder.
Dizziness washed over him, and he felt nauseous.
Never since his release had he missed So-hee so much.
If she were there, she would’ve handled everything for him.
At that moment, a disgruntled voice came from right behind him.
“Ugh, lunchtime’s going to be over. Hurry up and choose already!”
Snapping back to reality, Ho-cheol was filled with both guilt and indignation.
It had only been three or four minutes—was it really worth complaining about?
Still, he didn’t have time to argue with the person behind him.
If he had time for that, he’d rather finish his order.
Switching payment methods, adding toppings, choosing between takeout and dine-in, using a points card, applying a staff discount—and ultimately failing to find his unique ID—he persevered through countless trials and tribulations.
Finally, he pressed the confirm button.
The kiosk spat out his meal ticket and receipt with an almost mocking “thwip” sound.
“Hah…”
He carefully put the ticket into his pocket and stepped aside from the kiosk.
As he was searching for an empty seat, he turned his head to check on the owner of the earlier irritated voice.
‘Might as well see their face.’
The voice’s owner stared back, looking unapologetic, as if they hadn’t done anything wrong.
Bright blonde hair cascading to the shoulder blades, emerald-green eyes, and metal-framed half-rim glasses added a strict air to her demeanor.
Although she was clearly a stranger, something about her appearance felt oddly familiar.
Had he seen them somewhere before?
Surprisingly, the answer came from the other side.
The student’s face went pale in an instant, and she bent into a sharp right-angle bow.
“Hello, professor!”
“Oh… right.”
Judging by her reaction, there was no need to wonder who she was.
At the same time, the vague memory in his mind became clearer.
‘Ah, one of the few students who managed to hold her own in lectures.’
Smiling at the back of the student still bowing deeply, he spoke.
“This must be fate. Let’s eat together.”
Since she was still bowing, he couldn’t see her face, but the back of their head quivered slightly, betraying her unease.
Under her lowered head, he could faintly hear muttered words like, “Why is a professor at the cafeteria?”
“What?”
Ho-cheol stroked his chin as he addressed the still-bowed head.
“Don’t like the idea?”
The student, still maintaining her right-angle bow, slowly lifted only her head.
She forced a smile, so awkward it seemed like the most unnatural expression in the world.
“N-no way. I’d be honored.”
Cliche Novel 