Lesson 23

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Ho-cheol took out a notebook. MT was MT, but lectures needed to be delivered.  

Contrary to his belief in practical education, reality was far from ideal.  

The training facility closed due to a villain attack was still unavailable due to security system checks and updates.  

Originally, this lecture was prepared to follow up on practical sessions by addressing key points and shortcomings. But there was no other choice now.  

“Alright, shall we start the lecture?”  

At those words, the students, who had been chattering about MT, fell silent and focused on Ho-cheol.  

Opening the first page of the notebook he placed on the lectern, he glanced at the students and asked.  

“Before we begin, let me ask one question. What is improvisation?”  

In response, Da-yeon straightened her back and answered.  

“It is the ability to respond and adapt immediately to unforeseen variables or sudden changes in circumstances.”  

“That’s right. Then, is being skilled in improvisation considered praise?”  

Da-yeon couldn’t answer immediately.  

Socially, it would be seen as a compliment. But why was he asking such a straightforward question? There was clearly another implication.  

She couldn’t deny it outright, nor could she affirm it with confidence. She only had a vague idea, not the certainty of the answer.  

In the end, knowing she might be wrong, she nodded.  

“Yes.”  

As expected, Ho-cheol shook his head.  

“Unfortunately, in this industry, being skilled at improvisation isn’t just a compliment.”  

Though this was a tale from ten years ago, when Ho-cheol was actively working, it likely hadn’t changed much since.  

“Improvisation ultimately implies insufficient preparation and planning. The root causes are sloppiness and complacency. Even if resolved, it merely reflects reliance on one’s personal abilities and experience. A proper hero must respond appropriately to all variables.”  

This wasn’t just Ho-cheol’s personal opinion.  

Disaster response manuals alone spanned volumes akin to dozens of encyclopedias.  

In the past, heroes had to fully and flawlessly memorize these manuals. However, modern times demanded a faster supply of heroes, reducing the mandatory content and inevitably leading to a decline in quality.  

Ho-cheol tapped his fingers on the lectern.  

“The academy supports gaining experience through internships and sidekick activities, but that’s not enough. Many end up fumbling through their first real experiences, earning nothing more than a ‘well, at least they improvised well’ remark.”  

Ho-cheol shook his head again.  

‘Ultimately, throwing freshmen into real-world situations early on—even as minor assistants—would be the best approach. Perhaps I should suggest it to the old man again.’  

“My ideal would be to have you master evacuation protocols, rescue guidelines, villain suppression techniques, and first aid responses for all scenarios. But that diverges from this lecture’s purpose. So, we’ll focus solely on trait-specific responses. Even that will leave us pressed for time.”  

With the steady rise in villain-related disasters, knowing how to handle various traits was no longer optional but a mandatory skill for heroes.  

“In trait-specific battles, information superiority provides an advantage incomparable to compatibility or raw power.”  

“Famous heroes, whose traits and combat styles are well-known, always find themselves at a disadvantage.”  

Ho-cheol picked up a piece of chalk and stood before the blackboard.  

“Through practical experience, you must gradually eliminate areas requiring improvisation. Only when you can respond perfectly to all situations will you truly deserve the title of first-class hero.”  

He began writing on the blackboard—numbers, names, and a single alphabet letter.  

“However, before experience, theoretical learning and practice akin to real combat can drastically shorten that period. Let’s start with the theory.”  

From one name to ten, from ten to twenty, then thirty.  

The numbers before the names soon exceeded three digits. Most names bore the letter ‘A’ at the end, while a few had ‘S.’  

Among the students, a sharp-eyed few recognized some of the names.  

Finishing at the 176th name, Ho-cheol put down the chalk and turned back.  

“The method for responding to all traits is exceedingly simple.”  

So simple, in fact, that teaching it might not even be necessary. It was more of an information transfer than a lesson.  

“Memorize all existing villain trait patterns. Then learn the corresponding countermeasures.”  

The students’ responses were lukewarm.  

Some even looked at him with skepticism.  

“Sure, there are many villains. But the patterns you need to remember are far fewer. Barely enough to fill this blackboard.”  

Ho-cheol smirked.  

“And the reason is simple: because every villain other than me is an idiot.”  

His arrogant attitude of belittling everything other than himself was evident. Yet, his tone carried unwavering conviction.  

“Villains don’t understand the uniqueness or exclusivity of their traits. They treat traits as mere weapons. Ultimately, they just mimic the patterns of similar high-level villains instead of exploring any creative application.”  

This wasn’t just an issue among villains; it was also prevalent among heroes. However, Ho-cheol didn’t bother pointing that out.  

“Therefore, if you can perfectly understand and counter every high-level villain trait in history, even facing an unfamiliar villain will be easy. Improvisation won’t be necessary.”  

At last, a spark of interest lit up in the students’ eyes.  

Simultaneously, doubts arose.  

Some of the villains Ho-cheol listed were S-class, alongside both well-known and unfamiliar names.  

How could a C-class hero like Ho-cheol know so much about so many traits?  

Before they could dwell on their doubts, Ho-cheol dropped another bombshell.  

“By the way, some of today’s lecture content falls under second-class hero information security classified material.”  

His calm tone delayed the students’ realization of the gravity of his statement by a beat.  

“What does he mean by that?”  

“I’m taking on some risk and repercussions for this lecture. Truthfully, I didn’t get permission. But I’m confident this will help you achieve results far beyond the risks I face, so I’m not too concerned.”  

In truth, the consequences might amount to a few scoldings at most.  

The information, after all, was something Ho-cheol himself had provided to the association a decade ago.  

It was only second-class classified back then; now, it was of little value.  

Unaware of this, some students looked at him in awe.  

“That said, do not leak the lecture content carelessly. Now, let’s analyze the first case.”  

“Augmentation traits with a focus on constant activation physical enhancement. One where the bones protrude like weapons, for example…”  

Before the students could fully process, the lecture resumed.  

Flustered, they hurriedly grabbed their pens and opened their notebooks.  

***  

“Now, in Case 53, the trait involves hardening the body. Hardening traits are straightforward, balancing offense and defense well. They’re as strong as steel, absorbing significant impact, making sustained attacks to their limits more effective than a single powerful strike.”  

“Additionally, the inside of joints tends to be softer, making it a viable target. You also need to distinguish between impact absorption and nullification…”  

The lecture continued without even a short break.  

Details on trait categories, forms, various evolutions, and the weaknesses and precautions of each.  

It wasn’t a simple explanation.  

It was an accumulation of knowledge, experiences, and insights Ho-cheol had gained through countless struggles.  

Time passed, even cutting into their precious lunch hour, but no one complained.  

In fact, they were so immersed they didn’t even realize how much time had gone by.  

Eventually,  

“That’s it for Case 176.”  

Ho-cheol set the chalk down as he finished.  

The blackboard was packed to the brim with writing, leaving barely any empty space.  

Sighs of relief escaped from various spots as tension eased.  

Ho-cheol, showing no signs of fatigue, closed his notebook.  

“This was just a universal analysis of those traits. Individual response strategies vary greatly depending on specific traits.”  

In a more relaxed tone, he leaned against the lectern.  

“Hard-earned wisdom holds value equal to experience.”  

Yet the students felt a mysterious sense of unease and shivered lightly.  

For a closing remark, it felt ominous.  

And that unease soon became reality.  

“Which is why I’m assigning you homework. For the 176 cases explained today, I want you to create combat simulations using your own traits to respond to them.”  

Gasp—  

Someone audibly inhaled, though it felt more like they momentarily forgot how to breathe out of sheer shock.  

It wasn’t just 176 traits. Each trait had numerous derivatives and branches.  

Even with basic calculations, the workload was astronomical.  

Regardless of their shock, Ho-cheol continued speaking as if unconcerned.  

“I’m not asking you to guarantee victory in every scenario. Depending on compatibility, power levels, environmental factors, and trait tendencies, there will be opponents where victory is exceedingly difficult or outright impossible. However, as aspiring heroes, think deeply about what the best approach might be. Even if you can’t win, consider how to respond. There are no right answers, but I hope you can come up with results you’re satisfied with.”  

Ho-cheol paused, mentally calculating the timeline.  

“The deadline will be… hmm.”  

He knew full well the task wasn’t just difficult but time-consuming. Setting an overly tight deadline would inevitably lower the quality of their work.  

He rolled down the sleeves of his shirt, fastening the cuffs.  

After a brief consideration, he gave them what he deemed a generous timeframe.  

“I’ll give you three weeks.”  

Of course, from the students’ perspective, it was anything but generous.  

‘Three weeks? This might kill us. Honestly, I want to kill him first. Does he think we only attend his class?’  

“That’s it for today’s lecture.”  

Adjusting his attire, Ho-cheol packed his bag under the collective gaze of his students and left the classroom.  

The mood in the room plummeted as a student sitting next to Da-yeon finally broke the silence.  

“…Wow.”  

It was unclear if it was an exclamation of awe, despair, or both.  

Thoughts of MT or the beach had long vanished from their minds. They didn’t have the mental capacity to spare for such trivialities.  

Slowly lowering their gaze, they stared at the notebook they had been furiously filling in.  

The three-hour lecture, without a single break, had already resulted in over ten pages of notes.  

And yet, it was only half the lecture.  

The rest was up to them to fill in on their own.  

“We’re screwed.”  

The muttered words came from one student, but it echoed the sentiments of everyone in the room.  

***

Back at his accommodations, Ho-cheol skipped his meal to focus on organizing the MT itinerary.  

To avoid wasting even a second, he meticulously planned the schedule and route.  

On the floor, with her legs propped up on the bed, So-hee fiddled with her phone and asked.  

“Oh, where are we going for MT? You said the vote was today, right?”  

“The beach was chosen.”  

“Ooh.”  

She propped herself up on her elbows, resting her chin on her hands.  

“Hmm. I don’t really mind where we go, but I hope there are plenty of photo spots.”  

Ho-cheol spun his chair around to face her direction.  

“…Why?”  

Her statement seemed completely out of context, leaving Ho-cheol baffled.  

So-hee gave him a look, as if asking, ‘You seriously don’t know?’  

“Obviously because I’m coming along too.”  

Ho-cheol opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it again.  

She had a point. It was natural for her to join as both a supervisor and guardian.  

Even if it was just a short 2-night, 3-day trip to a remote island, her presence was to be expected.  

He stared at So-hee, who was now resting her chin in her hands, like a flower on display.  

“What?”  

Instead of answering, Ho-cheol let out a long sigh, clicking his tongue in frustration.  

No matter how precarious or deceptively peaceful the current era might be, true combat was reserved for a small handful of actual heroes.  

For a mere civil servant like So-hee, battle was a distant tale.  

But still…  

“Why are you sighing right in front of me like that…?”  

At least a year.  

So-hee would likely be by his side for at least a year as his assigned observer.  

However, the chain of events unfolding around him, as well as those yet to come, would be far too harsh for a mere civil servant to endure.  

Even if he tried his best to protect her, there were clear limits.  

In the end, the weakest link always bore the brunt of the damage.  

And in this case, So-hee was undoubtedly the weakest link.  

“Do you have any hidden powers or traits you’ve been keeping secret?”  

“That sounds like something out of a comic… If I did, I’d have used it to get promoted already.”  

“Fair enough.”  

Despite their relatively friendly relationship, which allowed him this level of freedom and authority, if So-hee were to get injured or worse, she’d likely be replaced by another agent.  

And there was no guarantee the new agent would be as personable as So-hee. Building a similar relationship from scratch would be an exhausting task.  

After a moment of contemplation, he asked her.  

“Do you have any desire to get stronger?”  

“Huh?”  

The unexpected question made So-hee blink in surprise.  

Strength was a foreign concept to her. As a clerical staff member with no combat-oriented traits, she had joined the association by barely meeting the basic physical fitness requirements.  

“Why do you ask all of a sudden?”  

“There’s no guarantee that what happened last time won’t happen again. More importantly…”  

The initial reasoning was just an excuse.  

His real motive was much simpler.  

“Who’d want to see someone close to them get hurt? Especially when I can’t always be there to protect you.”  

“Huh.”  

Her expression darkened as she recalled the previous attack.  

Her face turned bright red, flushed with both embarrassment and frustration.  

She sprang to her feet, clasping the back of her neck with both hands.  

Why did he have to be so honest?  

Even knowing there was no deeper meaning behind his words, her face felt like it was on fire.  

Unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her head and mumbled.  

“Can’t you just keep protecting me?”  

“I’ll try my best, but you know how unpredictable life can be.”  

“True, but still…”  

‘Get stronger.’  

She muttered the word “stronger” under her breath repeatedly.  

“But I don’t have a combat-oriented trait.”  

“Strength isn’t always relative. If you develop abilities better than your current self, that’s also a form of getting stronger.”  

Her energy-emission trait might not seem fit for combat, but that was a misconception. Properly honed, it could become quite formidable.  

She rubbed her now-normal-colored cheeks with the back of her hand and asked.  

“So, how exactly are you planning to help me get stronger?”  

“Well, there’s a session for trait enhancement during the MT schedule. I thought I’d let you join in and go through the program.”  

“Ah… Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. I don’t really have a reason to say no.”  

Would Ho-cheol really make her do anything too extreme? Probably not, but just in case, she cautiously asked.  

“If it gets too hard, can I stop?”  

“Of course. You’re just tagging along, after all.”  

“Fine, I’m in,” So-hee agreed without hesitation after getting a clear answer.  

“Great. I’ll include you in the program,” Ho-cheol said.  

“What kind of program?”  

“Something like beach running, maybe some hiking. We’ll also squeeze in some martial arts training.”  

Ho-cheol barely managed to suppress a grin as he turned back to his work.  

The odd number 43 had been bothering him, but with So-hee added, he could now incorporate a more diverse range of “training.”  

He could already see So-hee’s inevitable screams blending in with those of the students. But what could he do? It wasn’t as though he was deceiving her out of malice—this was entirely her responsibility for volunteering.  

Sure, he had mentioned she could back out midway, but in a group setting where accountability was shared, could she really be that brazen?  

Ding-dong!  

The doorbell rang as Ho-cheol was deep in drafting the program.  

“What’s that?” So-hee asked.  

“Delivery. I ordered coffee,” he replied.  

At his words, So-hee darted over to her phone, which was still plugged into the charger. Unlocking it, she let out an exasperated groan.  

“You used my card for coffee again! Argh! And what’s with this overpriced cake?”  

“Had to meet the delivery minimum.”  

“I don’t even eat cheesecake!”  

“I know. That’s why I got it.”  

“When did you even place the order!”  

Ignoring her protests, Ho-cheol opened the front door.  

A delivery person wearing a heavily tinted motorcycle helmet stood outside, holding a bag of drinks.  

For a brief moment, the delivery person flinched at the sight of Ho-cheol but silently handed over the bag.  

As soon as the bag changed hands, the delivery person turned to leave without a word.  

Leaning against the doorframe, Ho-cheol called out, “Stop right there.”  

The delivery person kept walking, pretending not to hear.  

Ho-cheol briefly debated before letting out a heavy sigh.  

The exhalation wasn’t just air—it was dense with meaning, far more expressive than words.  

Unable to withstand the mounting pressure, the delivery person halted in their tracks. Slowly, without being asked, they removed their helmet.  

Ho-cheol recognized her even before the helmet came off.  

The bright blond hair, freed from the stifling helmet, swayed gently.  

As the delivery person turned around, revealing Ye-jin, Ho-cheol sighed again, this time deeper.  

Her blond hair, tied back tightly, was disheveled, with a few stray strands clinging to her sweat-soaked forehead.  

Beads of sweat glistened on her face, catching the light on her nose bridge.  

In the awkward silence, she forced a smile and greeted him.  

“Ah, haha. Hi there.”  

No response came.  

Ho-cheol simply stared at her in the same posture as before. He had seen her working part-time at the café previously.  

But now she was doing deliveries too? Just how overworked was she?  

“You.”  

Of course, he couldn’t overlook the more pressing issue. If his memory served him right…  

“Do you even have a license?”  

Of course, she didn’t.  

Ye-jin swallowed nervously, her eyes darting side to side as she scrambled to come up with a plausible excuse.  

“Uh, well, you see… about that…”  

Ho-cheol shook his head.  

“Never mind. Just come in for a minute.”  

“Eh?”  

Ye-jin let out a dumbfounded noise.  

“You and I need to have a little chat.”  

He had been meaning to address this for a while, and now was as good a time as any.  

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