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A brief silence filled the air.  

Ho-cheol nearly lost consciousness for a moment.  

The word that had come out of the employee’s mouth was so absurd, so out of place, that it almost seemed unthinkable.  

He scratched the corner of his mouth with his fingertips.  

“A union… You mean a labor union?”  

“Yes, sir. The academy’s staff, as well as many of the professors, are part of the union. They work tirelessly to improve employee conditions and various other matters. If you were to join, you’d also enjoy numerous benefits…”  

The employee droned on like a seasoned salesperson, prompting Ho-cheol to smirk.  

Seeing his reaction, the employee, who had been nervous, chuckled too.  

This reaction seemed surprisingly positive.  

Maybe persuading him would be easier than expected.  

But Ho-cheol’s true feelings were entirely different.  

He laughed because the situation was so ridiculous.  

If it were just the staff forming a union, he could somewhat understand.  

They were ordinary people, after all.  

But former heroes forming a union?  

Ridiculous fools.  

The insult rose to the tip of his tongue but didn’t escape his lips.  

What fault did this employee have to deserve his wrath?  

That wasn’t the kind of mindset Ho-cheol had.  

Instead, he focused on his next move.  

Acting out of anger would end the conversation here, leaving him unable to extract any more information.  

He rubbed the inside of his lip with the tip of his tongue.  

The sudden revelation of the union’s existence sent his mind into overdrive.  

Just a day ago, he had changed the lecture venue.  

Yet, the villains attacked the training center without any hesitation, as if they knew where he’d be.  

If they were tracking him in real-time, they wouldn’t have been able to hack the training center’s security system so quickly.  

They must have known and prepared the day before.  

The rapid spread of such information was simple to deduce.  

There was a traitor within the academy.  

Even if not a full-fledged traitor, someone inside the academy was undoubtedly selling information.  

And this union seemed highly suspicious.  

Leaning against the doorframe, Ho-cheol tapped his thigh with his fingertips.  

“The union seems pretty large, huh?”  

“Oh, yes. Over half of the staff and about 30% of professors are members of the union.”  

“What are some of their notable activities?”  

“Well, we organize many public events and activities!”  

Selling information, no doubt.  

It had to be them.  

Yesterday’s villain attack was only mitigated by exploiting their informational advantage.  

But relying on luck for future incidents would be reckless.  

Skilled villains never reveal themselves so easily.  

The true mastermind behind this attack hadn’t shown even a silhouette.  

Though the dean was pursuing them, the trail would likely go cold soon enough.  

Would such incidents keep happening?  

Ho-cheol could say with certainty:  

They absolutely would.  

A second, third, and fourth wave of attacks would batter the academy, threatening the students.  

“Hmm.”  

Ho-cheol folded his arms, staring at the employee.  

Even a mere staff member displayed such loyalty to the union.  

The membership rate was significant.  

Was the dean unaware of this malignant tumor growing within the academy?  

That seemed unlikely.  

Ho-cheol recalled the professor who had been fired last year, mentioned by the dean on the first day.  

That incident must also have been tied to the union.  

The dean appeared to be monitoring the situation in his own way, but considering the nature of unions, even he likely had his limitations.  

“How long has the union been around?”  

“We’re in our seventh year now. It’s a short history compared to Clington’s, but we’ve already achieved quite a lot, so there’s no need to worry.”  

‘Worry? That’s what he thinks I’m concerned about?’  

Ho-cheol’s thoughts raced.  

He had tolerated yesterday’s attack because it could serve as a valuable teaching example.  

But repeated incidents would be nothing but a hassle.  

If something happened during another lecture, it could disrupt both the aftermath and his teaching schedule.  

Worse, the entire academic calendar could be thrown off balance.  

Hadn’t this very incident led to the cancellation of all classes for the week?  

His tightly packed lecture schedule couldn’t afford such disruptions.  

Repeated attacks would harm student morale, not to mention…  

Yesterday, when the security team and professors lumped him in with the villains, he realized something.  

That was more infuriating than he could have imagined.  

The mere thought of being treated that way during every future attack made his blood boil.  

If they were villains, he could break their limbs without hesitation.  

But dealing with colleagues and staff?  

That was a different story.  

There was only so much he could endure.  

After that?  

Who knew what might happen.  

He might just lose it and kill them all.  

As Ho-cheol stood deep in thought, arms crossed, the employee hesitantly called out to him.  

“Professor?”  

Ho-cheol unfolded his arms and waved dismissively.  

If the union could stop leaking information, the culprits behind the attacks would have a harder time moving.  

If capturing them was impossible, the best solution would be for the dean to plant someone trustworthy within the union to seize control and expose the information sellers.  

But…  

Imagining those justice-obsessed fools succeeding in such a task was laughable.  

They’d get caught halfway through, making things worse.  

Responding to problems after they occurred was always second-rate.  

Preventing problems before they happened—that was first-rate.  

And Ho-cheol was undeniably first-rate.  

“Alright. I’ll hear you out.”  

Whoever was selling information wouldn’t get away unscathed.  

“Let’s find a café and discuss this in more detail.”  

With that resolve, Ho-cheol straightened his shoes.  

***

At the same time.

In a quiet café within the academy, Da-yeon and her companions were seated by a second-floor window.  

A group of four, including Da-yeon, they all looked visibly tired and drained.  

Not only had they faced their first, unexpected live battle yesterday, but they had also been detained by the security team for hours of questioning afterward.  

There was no way such exhaustion could disappear in just a day.  

As a result, they all sat there lethargically, either soaking up the sunlight or fiddling with their phones.  

Even Da-yeon, who would usually use this time to focus on personal training instead of joining such gatherings, couldn’t bring herself to pick up her bow and had reluctantly come to the café with them.  

One of them glanced up from their phone and spoke.  

“He couldn’t be a… C-rank villain, right?”  

There was no need to specify who they were talking about.  

Everyone nodded in agreement without hesitation.  

Although one of the villains had escaped, the subsequent accounts from the security team and professors confirmed that the attackers were indeed the A-rank villains known as Cerberus.  

How could anyone subdue such a trio in less than 30 seconds and still be classified as a C-rank villain?  

The battle records from the training hall were now crucial evidence and currently inaccessible, but their curiosity burned to see them as soon as possible.  

“Even if he’s immune to mental manipulation types, the other two were general manipulation types, weren’t they?”  

The overwhelming abilities Ho-cheol had displayed couldn’t possibly belong to a C-rank.  

No, calling him even B-rank seemed a stretch.  

Moreover, augmentation abilities were inherently at a disadvantage against manipulation types.  

Yet Ho-cheol had overcome numerical inferiority, unfavorable matchups, and the element of surprise—all while subduing the villains.  

A true hero.  

No, more like a superhuman.  

A blond student brushed her hair back behind her ear and responded.  

“Well, even if his actual strength is A-rank, a villain’s rank is based on the threat level when they’re captured. If they were caught as C-rank, then technically they’re C-rank villains.”  

The ranks of heroes and villains were determined through a comprehensive evaluation of various criteria and records.  

For heroes, factors like public support, achievements, and career history were considered.  

For villains, it was their threat level, ideology, behavior, area of activity, and objectives.  

Because of this, rank wasn’t always a reliable measure of pure strength.  

“This is why both villains and heroes should have a separate power grade listed.”  

The power grade, distinct from rank, measured an individual’s mastery of their traits, skills, speed, strength, and synergy, taking no external factors into account.  

“Should we ask him during the next lecture? About his power grade?”  

“Honestly, I wonder. Wasn’t that what he was hoping someone would ask on the first day of class?”  

“That was it!”  

Their fatigue seemed to vanish as they excitedly continued their chatter.  

“Still, he must have some confidence to show off like that in front of students.”  

“Well, skill aside, he didn’t show a single sign of panic in that situation. I thought that was impressive.”  

Everyone nodded in agreement again.  

That had also been a turning point in how they viewed Ho-cheol.  

The menacing aura that had radiated from beyond the fog was a memory that lingered vividly in their minds.  

Just imagining it again sent shivers down their spines, making them want to flee on the spot.  

Yet Ho-cheol had remained calm and composed, even serene.  

Though he emphasized the danger in his words, the sight of his unwavering back had brought a sense of stability to most of the students.  

This group was no exception.  

Though they didn’t express it directly, they couldn’t help but acknowledge Ho-cheol in their own way.  

As they were deep in conversation about Ho-cheol’s true abilities and traits, they suddenly fell silent and turned their gazes to one spot.  

Though they had been in the café for nearly ten minutes, Da-yeon, resting her chin in her hand, hadn’t said a single word.  

She simply stared blankly out the window.  

While she wasn’t particularly talkative by nature, she usually paid attention to the conversation, at least nodding or responding briefly.  

But today, she seemed completely lost in thought, her mind elsewhere.  

“…Are you okay?”  

Was the aftermath of her first real battle lingering that long?  

Or was she feeling unwell?  

Her behavior today was strange enough to raise such concerns.  

Da-yeon blinked a few times before slowly opening her mouth.  

“…It’s nothing.”  

She then resumed staring lifelessly out the window.  

“Come on, don’t be like that. We’re your friends, right?”  

“Yeah, did you get hurt or something yesterday?”  

As they tried to comfort her, a café staff member approached their table with a tray.  

“One iced caramel macchiato, one upgraded-size iced café mocha with whipped cream and an extra shot, one rainbow cosmos tea, one condensed milk latte, a soufflé cake, and two whipped cream waffles…”  

The familiar voice caught their attention, and everyone turned toward the staff member.  

The employee, who had been speaking, also froze as their eyes met.  

Standing there, holding the tray, was Ye-jin, wearing an apron with the café’s logo instead of her school uniform.  

She looked stunned, unable to speak, her mouth simply opening and closing.  

“Ah.”  

“Oh.”  

One side bit their lip in frustration, while the other’s eyes sparkled as though they had discovered a fun new toy.  

Naturally, the former was Ye-jin, and the latter was Da-yeon.  

Da-yeon suppressed the smirk tugging at her lips.  

What should she say?  

Anything would suffice.  

She felt energy returning to her previously slumped body.  

Finally, she slowly opened her mouth.  

“Ah?”  

One of the other students pointed out the window below.  

“Hey, isn’t that the professor down there?”  

Whip—  

Da-yeon’s gaze instantly shifted.  

Ye-jin’s presence was now completely forgotten.  

Just as they had said, it was Ho-cheol.  

He was walking into the very café they were in.  

***

Near the café entrance, Ho-cheol sat down after casually finishing his order.

“So, let’s hear it properly. What benefits would I get if I joined the union?”

Although he had already decided to join, jumping in too eagerly would only raise suspicion.

By pretending to hesitate, he could make them think they barely managed to recruit him, which would work to his advantage.

The staff member, as if waiting for this moment, eagerly began explaining.

“First, let’s start with the benefits. Our union provides separate activity funds…”

He even pulled out a booklet from somewhere and diligently went through the details.

“We also provide holiday bonuses, often referred to as ‘rice cake money.’ Additionally…”

“For professors like yourself, who currently teach only once a week, this may not apply much. However, if your weekly teaching hours exceed 15 in the future, you’ll be guaranteed sufficient vacation…”

“We also issue a welfare card. With this card alone…”

“Our union president is the head of the manipulation department. If you ever face unfair treatment at work, just let us know, and we’ll resolve it immediately.”

Ho-cheol, of course, barely paid attention to the explanation.

Instead, he was busy devising a plan to identify the union’s informant. First, he needed to assess how hierarchical the organization was, confirm the power structure, and narrow down a few suspects…

The staff member, seemingly interpreting his silence as hesitation about joining, leaned forward eagerly.

“Especially in light of the recent villain attack, which is a significant issue, the dean is currently away on a business trip. This highlights the need to reform the current system that overly relies on just one individual.”

Ho-cheol, having roughly organized his plan, nodded.

“Alright. I’ll join this union of yours.”

“A splendid decision. You absolutely won’t regret it.”

Ho-cheol gave a thumbs-up and pointed to So-hee, who was sipping her drink through a straw beside him.

“She’s joining too.”

So-hee had been temporarily assigned a counseling position at the academy, primarily to facilitate her access to the institution. Although half her title was fabricated, it was enough to meet the requirements to join the union.

“This person?”

“She’s from the association but also works as a psychological counselor.”

“Oh! Understood. I’ll prepare two application forms right away!”

The staff member’s face lit up. Though they had wondered about the relationship between the two, learning she was from the association made sense.

From the staff member’s perspective, every new recruit added to their record, so there was no reason to refuse.

So-hee, flustered, pulled the straw from her mouth and protested.

“Why me? I’m not interested in unions!”

“Better to join since we’re at it.”

“No!”

She stomped her feet in frustration.

She disliked such structures so much that she hadn’t even joined the association’s union despite her seniors’ constant urging. Now, she was about to be unwillingly roped into this one.

To make matters worse, Ho-cheol added a sly comment.

“You’re covering the union dues.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Who else is siphoning off my salary?”

“The association is! Not me!”

Ignoring her protests, Ho-cheol got up from his seat.

“Will you send the related documents via mail?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll ensure you receive them by tomorrow.”

“Alright, then.”

“You can’t just ignore my opinion like this!”

“Whatever I do with the union, you’re going to be my sidekick anyway. It’s more convenient for you to join. Let’s go.”

So-hee glanced back and forth between her still-half-full coffee and Ho-cheol, her face turning to a pout before reluctantly getting up.

As they were about to leave the café, hurried footsteps sounded.

Thud-thud-thud—

Da-yeon came running down from the second floor and blocked their path.

Ho-cheol widened his eyes in mild surprise at her sudden appearance.

He acknowledged her dedication to her bow and strength, which he found admirable. She spent so much time at the range that he didn’t expect her to frequent a café.

As he was musing over this, Da-yeon bowed deeply.

“Hello.”

Ho-cheol nodded in acknowledgment.

“Yeah.”

He was about to move past her and continue on his way when Da-yeon blocked him again.

She stared at him intently.

Ho-cheol, now blocked twice, asked in bafflement.

“What?”

Da-yeon’s gaze was serious as she spoke.

“Have you decided?”

“Decided what?”

Don’t tell me she’s about to bring up that private tutoring nonsense again.

However, Da-yeon’s next words far exceeded his imagination. No, they were completely unexpected.

“Class representative.”

“Huh?”

This was why she had been so listless all day.

“You said we’d choose a class representative during the last lecture. Who is it?”

She confidently declared.

“It’s me, right?”

At the circular staircase connecting the first and second floors, Da-yeon’s friends and Ye-jin, all peeking their heads out vertically, collectively gasped in disbelief.

“Is she out of her mind?”

Even Ye-jin muttered under her breath, though none of them could bring themselves to deny it.

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As the break neared its end, the doors to the education hall burst open with a force that made them seem on the verge of breaking. Heavily armed security guards—over a dozen of them—stormed in, followed closely by several professors. 

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue in exasperation as he observed the scene.  

“How punctual,” he muttered.  

He hadn’t expected much from them, but actually seeing their ineffectiveness left him feeling deeply frustrated.  

To be fair, neither the security team nor the professors could do much. The black mist enveloped not just the interior but also the exterior of the education hall. Despite their presence, all they could do was shuffle around nervously.  

In a situation where the nature and characteristics of the phenomenon were unknown, acting rashly would be akin to suicide. It wasn’t just about personal injury—provoking the mist and endangering the students inside would result in a catastrophe.  

Moreover, the academy’s real forces were preoccupied with managing other crises unfolding around the academy grounds.  

The guards and professors entered the education hall, tense and on high alert. However, they soon eased their stances and froze in place after taking just a few steps.  

The scene before them was unexpectedly peaceful.  

The intruders, presumed to be villains, were bound and shoved into a corner, while the students were either chatting in small groups or lounging comfortably.  

Though baffling, the professionals quickly regained their composure and set about their duties.  

The lead security officer raised a hand to signal his team. They split into three groups, each heading toward the students, the villains, and Ho-cheol, respectively.  

The first two teams had straightforward objectives: protect and detain.  

But the team assigned to Ho-cheol had a different mission altogether.  

“Figures,” Ho-cheol muttered, clicking his tongue again as he watched the guards approach him.  

Unlike the other two teams, who had lowered their weapons, the guards facing him kept their fingers close to the trigger, eyes brimming with suspicion.  

Ho-cheol wasn’t surprised, nor was he particularly bothered. He had anticipated this.  

Still…  

“I should’ve skipped ahead in the lecture,” he sighed. It was clear he wouldn’t be resuming class anytime soon.  

***

The following morning, Ho-cheol sat at his desk in his dorm, his face tired and drawn.  

The students had been allowed to go home after answering some perfunctory questions and reporting any damages. But not Ho-cheol.  

As a professor, he avoided the indignity of being handcuffed, but the investigation dragged on relentlessly until dawn.  

He was both a key witness and a suspect in the incident.  

The timing was too perfect: villains had infiltrated the academy during one of Ho-cheol’s rare weekly lectures. On top of that, the lecture had taken place in an unusual venue.  

It would have been odd not to suspect some connection between Ho-cheol and the villains.  

The academy thoroughly investigated the possibility of collusion.  

In the face of their near-conviction-level suspicion, Ho-cheol had few avenues to prove his innocence. Fortunately, the dean’s intervention and guarantee soon cleared him of criminal suspicion.  

This leniency stemmed largely from Ho-cheol’s fabricated identity.  

With the dean vouching for him and the villains being relatively low-threat C-rank, the academy’s vigilance softened.  

The association, however, was in uproar.  

Claims emerged accusing Ho-cheol of mobilizing his hidden organization to orchestrate the attack. Calls to detain him and lock him away gained traction.  

It wasn’t until So-hee, expending every last bit of her abilities—including those reserved for her evening duties—managed to stall any decisions. Even then, it came after over 10 grueling hours of questioning by investigators sent by the association.  

Nearly 20 hours of interrogation and scrutiny later, Ho-cheol was free.  

Not that such trivialities were the real source of his exhaustion.  

He pulled out a stack of documents from his bag, spreading them out on his desk. Verifying the facts took precedence over eating or sleeping.  

The documents contained profiles of second-year students in the augmentation department. Ho-cheol paused as he flipped through the pages.  

On the top left corner of one page was a photo of Choi Da-yeon.  

Unlike the other students, who each had a single-page profile, her file spanned three pages.  

That alone spoke volumes about her significance and the wealth of information on her. Notably, the second page bore a Level 1 Confidential stamp, access granted only to assigned professors. Even department heads couldn’t easily view it.  

Ho-cheol’s gaze lingered on her family relations section. Typically, student profiles didn’t delve into family details, but Da-yeon’s case was different.  

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, unable to contain his disbelief.  

He’d known since her first lecture that she was the child of an S-rank hero. But he hadn’t thought to ask which one.  

Why would he care? Building connections or seeking favors wasn’t his style. Better not to know than risk forming prejudices.  

At least, that’s what he’d thought—until yesterday.  

When a villain had casually mentioned an S-rank hero’s name, Ho-cheol had barely managed to keep his composure.  

“It’s true,” he muttered dryly.  

In the “Father” field, a name stood out: Choi Hak-do. His profession was unmistakably listed as Hero.  

There was no mistaking it. Choi Hak-do, also known as the Demon Blade, was her father.  

“Of all people, I’m teaching the Demon Blade’s kid,” he sighed, his mutter heavy with resignation.  

From where she lay on the floor fiddling with her phone, So-hee raised her head at his words.  

“Huh? You know each other?”  

Normally, she wouldn’t invade his personal space. But given the fallout from the recent incident, she’d been ordered to stick close to him, excluding sleep hours.  

“Kind of… when he was still A-rank,” Ho-cheol replied nonchalantly.  

Curious, So-hee wriggled her way to his side, propping herself up on his chair’s armrest.  

“That’s weird. The association’s files didn’t mention any connection with the Demon Blade.”  

She’d reviewed classified information about Ho-cheol’s villain days, including his relationships and abilities, but this was news to her.  

Ho-cheol shrugged indifferently.  

‘No reason it would. Back then, we didn’t meet as hero and villain. He probably snuck into the gate without reporting it. I went in secretly too. Neither of us had any reason to brag about it, so it’s no wonder there aren’t any rumors.’  

He mused to himself. If the association or the academy had known, they would never have paired him with the Demon Blade’s kid.  

Looking back, he’d made plenty of enemies. Maybe he should’ve toned down his personality. No regrets, but a few lingering “what-ifs.”  

“Hey, don’t trail off like that. Spill it! I’m dying of curiosity here,” So-hee prodded, jabbing his side impatiently.  

“It’s nothing impressive,” Ho-cheol remarked, resting his chin on his hand as he dredged up memories of the past.  

At that time, Ho-cheol was focused on expanding his organization and making a name for himself, while Choi Hak-do had just been recognized as an A-rank hero.  

The two had crossed paths at a gate with the same goal.  

“I was looking for a particular item. Since it was gate material, there was no legal way to get it, and it wasn’t showing up on the black market either. So, I went to track it down myself. Turns out, the Demon Blade was after the same thing.”  

After scouring dozens of gates, Ho-cheol had finally found the rare material—something money couldn’t buy and was urgent enough for him to act personally. That decision turned out to be the right one.  

If he had just sent subordinates, he wouldn’t have retrieved the item—or even their bodies.  

Although Choi Hak-do’s reclusive personality kept his public and media approval ratings low, leaving him stuck at A-rank, his skills were already at an S-rank level.  

Thinking back, Da-yeon’s personality was uncannily similar to her father’s. Of all the things to inherit… Still, at least she got his diligence, too.  

So-hee widened her eyes.  

“So, did you fight?”  

“Calling it a fight is overstating it. Let’s just say there was a minor conflict, or a trivial scuffle,” Ho-cheol replied.  

One item. Two people in desperate need of it. The solution was simple. They fought, and the victor claimed it.  

“So, who won?” So-hee asked, though she immediately felt it was a stupid question.  

Ho-cheol felt the same but answered regardless.  

“Obviously, I did.”  

If he hadn’t won, he wouldn’t be here to tell the story.  

“What kind of item was so important that an S-rank hero and a villain were fighting to the death over it?”  

“A Rainbow Cosmos.”  

So-hee blinked, caught off guard. She had expected it to be a byproduct of a high-tier monster or a dungeon core, but the answer left her feeling not just let down but utterly baffled.  

“That… sells for ten thousand won online,” she pointed out.  

The flower, with petals that shimmered like a rainbow depending on the angle, was a popular ornamental plant.  

“Well, it’s mass-produced now. Back then, it wasn’t,” Ho-cheol explained.  

“So, you and the Demon Blade must really not get along, huh?”  

“Who knows.”  

Even Ho-cheol couldn’t say for sure. He had won and achieved his goal, so their relationship wasn’t one of animosity or camaraderie—just a hazy memory.  

If anything, the fact that he only remembered Choi Hak-do’s name yesterday said it all.  

What Choi Hak-do thought of him, though, was another matter.  

“Well, if he bore a grudge or was out for revenge, wouldn’t he have shown up with a blade in his mouth when I was arrested?”  

The Choi Hak-do Ho-cheol remembered was an intensely self-centered individual—someone utterly unfit to be a hero.  

Why else would he be called the Demon Blade?  

The title came from people saying he seemed possessed by a ghost while wielding his sword—or that he might die wielding it.  

He cared about nothing but honing his own skills. His choice to become a hero was purely pragmatic: it gave him plenty of free time and decent income.  

Since Choi Hak-do hadn’t bothered to visit or show any interest after Ho-cheol’s capture, he had likely forgotten all about him.  

“Well, we’re unlikely to meet again.”  

And as for parenting? No way would Choi Hak-do care enough to notice that his child’s professor had fought him a decade ago.  

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. Staying out of sight was the best option.  

“You really should’ve mentioned this kind of thing sooner,” So-hee grumbled, placing her hands on her hips.  

“I just forgot. Isn’t it enough that I told you now?” Ho-cheol replied nonchalantly as he shifted his attention back to the documents.  

He focused on the section detailing Da-yeon’s abilities. During the villain attack yesterday, she had only used her physical strength.  

What kind of ability did she have that she refrained from using it even in such a dire situation?  

When he finally read her ability description, Ho-cheol immediately understood why people around her had pressured her to give up archery.  

Her ability wasn’t extraordinary or outstanding—it was downright peculiar.  

Though technically categorized as an augmentation-type ability, its name was poorly defined, its description was vague, and its suggested improvements were abstract at best.  

But Ho-cheol saw its true essence. Tapping the document with his fingers, he mused, “That’s a tough ability.”  

It was a jack-of-all-trades kind of power—adaptable in any situation yet useless in most.  

That explained her underwhelming practical performance.  

The academy’s current education and evaluation systems weren’t capable of accurately measuring her potential.  

“Very difficult indeed,” he murmured.  

As he prepared to review the abilities of other noteworthy students—

Ding-dong.  

The doorbell rang.  

Ho-cheol rarely had visitors, especially since So-hee, under the pretext of monitoring him, was already lounging around in his space.  

Who could it be?  

Muttering to himself, he opened the door to find a lanky young man standing outside.  

It was someone he had never seen before.  

The visitor wasn’t wearing a uniform, so he likely wasn’t a student, and he looked too young to be a professor. His tired expression and dull eyes made him resemble a corpse.  

The young man bowed politely and introduced himself.  

“Hello, sir. I’m a staff member from the Augmentation Department’s administrative office. I apologize for the intrusion—I know it’s improper to visit you at your dorm. I originally intended to meet you after your lecture yesterday, but… well, given what happened…”  

Indeed, a lot had happened yesterday.  

Acknowledging his effort, Ho-cheol nodded and returned the greeting.  

“You’ve been through a lot. What’s this about?”  

The nervous staff member handed Ho-cheol a thin booklet.  

“It’s a guide for new professors.”  

“A guide?”  

As Ho-cheol accepted it, the man explained, “Since new professors often struggle to adapt to the academy’s systems, we’ve compiled this guide to help ease the process, especially for our department.”  

Flipping through the booklet, Ho-cheol quickly scanned its contents.  

It was full of useful information he had been curious about but didn’t know how to find: an academy map, internal contact lists, academic schedules, instructions for using the professor portal, and more.  

After closing the booklet, he nodded with satisfaction.  

“This is great. I was thinking something like this would be helpful. Your team must be quite capable.”  

“Haha, thank you. I’m sorry for delivering it so late.”  

The staff member smiled in relief.  

Typically, this guide was given after the first week of lectures. However, due to Ho-cheol’s unexpected schedule changes and the chaos yesterday, the handoff had been delayed.  

Young professors usually reacted poorly to such delays, but Ho-cheol’s calm demeanor was a pleasant surprise.  

Encouraged, the staff member hesitated before speaking again.  

“Um… Professor, I heard you went through a lot yesterday.”  

“It’s not exactly a pleasant topic,” Ho-cheol replied, his tone flat.  

“Ah, I apologize, but this might be something that could help you,” the staff member said, lowering his voice and glancing around nervously.  

Leaning forward conspiratorially, he whispered, “Professor… have you ever considered joining the union?”  

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10 minutes after the battle broke out.  

Smack!  

The last villain fell to the ground after being punched in the jaw by a student.  

Immediately, the surrounding students rushed in to bind the villain’s hands and feet, securing him.  

During the initial stages of the battle, they used any means necessary to gang up on and subdue the villains, but after taking down nearly ten of them, they came to a realization.  

This battle was a priceless experience money couldn’t buy, and it would be a waste to end it with mere one-sided beatings.  

Naturally, one-on-one matches began to form. Unless it was a dire situation, the other students refrained from interfering and waited until the match was decided.  

A student stared blankly at the villain he had just knocked down. Then, he sank to the ground.  

“Hah…”  

He clenched his fist tightly.  

A villain might be evil, but they were still a person.  

The sensation he felt when he first used his fist and abilities against a human being was… chilling enough to send shivers down his spine just by recalling it.  

His hands trembled uncontrollably, and cold sweat poured incessantly. Even when he gripped his wrist with his other hand, the shaking didn’t stop.  

He could now understand why senior students who participated in their first live combat often lost their mental stability or, in some cases, dropped out altogether.  

Yet, an indescribable thrill and sense of fulfillment swelled from deep within his chest and coursed through his entire body.  

In his first year, when he defeated holographic villains or combat dummies, he had never felt anything like this.  

Now he understood why heroes couldn’t give up their calling.  

Meanwhile, far away, Ho-cheol, who had confirmed that the last villain was down, stood up from a chair improvised from the stacked bodies of three villains.  

The only ones left standing were the students, with villains lying sprawled on the ground. Of course, even the students were far from being in good condition.  

However, none of them were gravely injured, nor were they paralyzed by fear.  

Ho-cheol’s carefully orchestrated, safe, and appropriately challenging live combat training had undoubtedly succeeded.  

As soon as he stood up, the students’ gazes turned to him. One of them cautiously raised their hand and asked,  

“Is it… over now?”  

“All villains are incapacitated,” Ho-cheol declared.  

At his announcement, everyone relaxed, either sitting down or outright collapsing to the ground.  

The actual combat had been short, and the level of danger was much lower than any real-world battle outside the academy.  

However, the pressure of a first live battle and the fear of death made the experience intensely overwhelming.  

Ho-cheol walked toward the students.  

“Gather around.”  

The scattered students struggled to lift their heavy bodies and slowly gathered around Ho-cheol.  

Seeing them barely managing to stand in line, he added briefly,  

“You can sit or lie down comfortably while listening.”  

As if they had been waiting for those words, the students collapsed again.  

At least he’s considerate.  

It was a minimal gesture, but right now, even that felt like a blessing.  

“First, is anyone injured? Not just minor muscle pain or bruises, but fractures, lacerations, bleeding, or severe dizziness?”  

Hearing this, the students quickly glanced around. After exchanging looks a few times, they answered that no one was injured.  

“That’s a relief. Then…”  

Ho-cheol pulled a notebook from his pocket.  

“I’ve graded everyone’s combat performance.”  

The students, who had been slumping in exhaustion, suddenly perked up in disbelief.  

“I didn’t evaluate just the fighting itself, but your reactions to unexpected situations, positioning, initial responses, speed of clearing threats, teamwork, and follow-up actions after subduing the villains—all of it.”  

The students were even more bewildered.  

It wasn’t as though Ho-cheol had been merely observing. He had also fought the villains himself. While he had subdued them faster than anyone else, could he really have had the time to assess everyone else?  

No, more than that, was it even physically possible to observe and score the combat performances of over 40 students simultaneously?  

Before they could voice their doubts, Ho-cheol opened his notebook.  

“These scores don’t directly affect your grades, but they quantify your current skill level. Use this as a stepping stone to improve further. Starting with number one, I’ll announce the scores in order. Number one, 3 points. Number two, 4 points. Number three, 5 points. Number four, 7 points. Number five, 2 points…”  

Most scored below 5 points. Only about one in five managed to score 6 points or higher.  

Everyone focused intensely on hearing their own scores. Some despaired at their near-zero scores, while others smiled faintly if they surpassed 5 points.  

At least no one scored zero—that was the one consolation.  

After calling scores in a monotone and at regular intervals, Ho-cheol suddenly paused for the first time.  

Then,  

“Number 37, 8 points.”  

It was the first 8-point score—a remarkable achievement.  

Ye-jin, the owner of the score, sprang up from where she had been lying flat.  

I’m in first place, aren’t I?  

She immediately turned her head toward Da-yeon, who was sitting against a wall nearby. She flashed a faint but deliberate smile.  

Da-yeon tried to ignore the look and smile.  

However, her body moved on its own. As she stared at Ho-cheol, she bit her lips hard, and the veins on her hand gripping her bow stood out.  

It was a chaotic battle.

The situation was far from ideal for utilizing her specialty, the bow. Unable to fire even a single arrow, she had to rely solely on close combat to subdue the villains.  

Compared to Ye-jin, whose main weapon was knuckles, she was clearly at a disadvantage. Even if her score turned out lower, it couldn’t be helped.  

It didn’t mean she had lost. Not at all…  

But then, a fleeting, ominous thought crossed her mind.  

Could they possibly be deciding the class leader based on these scores?  

Before she knew it, it was her turn to hear her score.  

“Number 40, 8 points.”  

The tension in her hand gripping the bow relaxed.  

She let out a sigh of relief. While it was disappointing not to achieve a perfect score, at least she hadn’t relinquished the top spot. In fact, earning the same score under less favorable circumstances was effectively a victory.  

Ye-jin, who had been smiling triumphantly until a moment ago, snapped her head around and clicked her tongue in annoyance.  

“Number 43, 4 points.”  

After calling out everyone’s scores, Ho-cheol closed his notebook.  

He briefly observed the students chatting about their scores, then brought his fingers together and pinched the bridge of his nose.  

Barely holding back harsher words, he finally spoke.  

“This is dreadful. Not only is there no perfect score, but not a single one of you even scored above 10. What exactly did you learn in your first year?”  

As if on cue, everyone fell silent.  

A brief pause ensued before Ye-jin slowly raised her hand.  

Ho-cheol gave a slight nod, signaling her to speak.  

“By any chance… is the perfect score not 10 points?”  

“It’s out of 100. Did you seriously think it was 10 points?”  

The moment of doubt became a solidified truth.  

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue, his expression a mix of incredulity and disdain. His cold gaze was enough to make the students lower their heads.  

The atmosphere grew heavier, especially since most of them had thought they had done reasonably well, only to face such harsh results.  

“In today’s battle, you acted out of fear of getting hurt, of dying. All you did was wield violence against villains who were desperate and reckless. At best, you were government-certified thugs. That’s far from the essence of being a hero.”  

Even the students who scored relatively high had only maintained composure and responded adequately post-conflict, which earned them their scores. But that wasn’t true hero behavior either.  

“By the midterm exam, make sure you’re capable of achieving at least double-digit scores. At least, this was your first real battle.”  

Honestly, he had expected at least one student to lose their composure entirely, maybe even be irreparably shaken. The results, in a good way, exceeded his expectations.  

Ho-cheol nodded and, erasing his cold demeanor, smiled lightly.  

“Well done.”  

Though brief, those words carried considerable weight, lifting some of the gloom from the students.  

“Thank you for your hard work.”  

As the atmosphere began to settle, someone urgently raised a hand, pointing behind Ho-cheol.  

“Behind you! Look behind you!”  

Ho-cheol turned slowly in response to their panic.  

At some point, the second of the villain trio had regained consciousness and crawled toward the wall of mist. He thrust his hand into the fog.  

“Got up faster than expected. I thought it was some rat scurrying around,” Ho-cheol muttered as he watched.  

The villain glared at Ho-cheol, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. From beneath his tattered eyepatch, blood trickled down, amplifying the wretchedness of his appearance.  

“You bastard… Next time we meet, I’ll kill you without fail. Your family, friends, loved ones—I’ll leave none alive. I’ll cut off their limbs and make them crawl on the ground even more pathetically than I am now!”  

“Hmm.”  

Ho-cheol merely observed him with an expressionless face.  

“A frightening threat. But useless.”  

Crossing his arms, he gave a slight beckoning gesture with his hand.  

“They’re already all dead. Everyone I cared for and everyone who cared for me.”  

At Ho-cheol’s taunt, the villain spat out a string of curses and threats before rolling himself into the mist.  

The black fog swallowed him and then vanished without a trace, as if it had been waiting for him to retreat.  

“We let one of the main culprits get away,” Ho-cheol said, turning back to the students.  

“To make such a mistake while letting our guard down—what a shame.”  

Mistake? Not intentional?  

Ho-cheol’s tone and demeanor didn’t seem regretful or accidental in the slightest.  

Yet no student was bold enough to point that out.  

Ho-cheol spoke again, as if anticipating their thoughts.  

“Through today’s live combat, you’ve experienced the entire process—from a villain’s ambush to response, subjugation, and even their escape. You must have learned something, no matter how small.”  

It felt more like a warning than a conclusion.  

And their unease turned into reality with his next words.  

“Analyze today’s incident from the perspectives of a hero, a civilian, and a villain. Identify areas for improvement and submit your reports next week.”  

The students nodded gloomily.  

They hadn’t expected an assignment. While feedback like this was crucial for growth, no student in the world welcomed homework.  

“All the battle records are stored in holographic form at the education center. If needed, you can request access at the administration office. That’s all.”  

Ho-cheol checked his watch briefly.  

“Take a 10-minute break, then we’ll resume the lecture.”  

The announcement sent a ripple of unease through the students.  

They had just finished a life-or-death struggle with villains, and on top of that, they’d been given an assignment. Surely this was the natural point for the lecture to end, wasn’t it?  

Perhaps sensing their questioning gazes, Ho-cheol furrowed his brow and asked,  

“The lecture time isn’t over yet. Surely no one has questions—or complaints, do they?”  

The murmuring that had filled the room came to an abrupt halt. The students exchanged cautious glances, but this time, even Ye-jin and Da-yeon lowered their eyes silently.  

The students, who had thought moments ago that Ho-cheol wasn’t entirely unreasonable, quickly changed their minds.  

Ho-cheol was an even crueler devil than the villains.  

But, much to Ho-cheol’s dismay, the lecture couldn’t continue.  

Less than five minutes into the break, the academy’s security team burst through the doors.  

***

A dimly lit room.  

Out of the empty air, black mist began to form. From within, the second of the villain trio crawled out and collapsed onto the floor.  

“Aaagh!”  

Covered in wounds, he rolled on the ground before finally propping himself up against a wall. With trembling hands, he pounded the wall in frustration.  

“Damn it! That bastard!”  

He had escaped purely by luck.  

Ho-cheol’s attack had barely missed a critical point, allowing him to regain consciousness relatively quickly. But he had been unable to help his unconscious brothers.  

Grinding his teeth, he vowed bloody vengeance.  

First, he had to get away. The city was uncomfortably close to the academy. No matter how well he disguised himself, if the academy decided to comb through the city, it was only a matter of time before he was caught.  

As he struggled to move his aching body and clean up any evidence—  

Creak.  

The door suddenly opened.  

No one was supposed to know about this place. No one should have come.  

Startled, the second brother looked up at the door—and froze in place.  

Standing in the doorway was someone who should never, under any circumstances, be here.  

His voice came out as a panicked shout.  

“Why—why are you here?!”  

He had confirmed the individual boarding a plane, fully prepared to leave the country. He had even accounted for potential complications by verifying the flight departure.  

By now, he should be overseas.  

The academy’s headmaster stepped into the room with a casual smile, lightly tapping his fingers together.  

“Didn’t you lot chase me out yourselves? At my age, flying is quite the ordeal. The in-flight meals don’t suit my taste either.”  

He chuckled mischievously.  

“So I just had the plane turn around midway. It’s actually my plane, so I have some leeway before crossing borders. Perks of being an S-rank hero, you know. Something villains like you could never hope to understand.”  

The second brother, muttering “Why, why?” like a broken record, stared at the headmaster in disbelief.  

The headmaster shook his head as if pitying him.  

“Did you really think that sly bastard would let you go so easily?”  

He raised a finger and tapped the back of his neck.  

“There’s a tracker on you. That’s why he let you go—in hopes of finding your hideout.”  

Panicking, the villain tore at the inside of his collar and found the nearly invisible tracker. He ripped it off and crushed it in a fit of anger.  

“Of course, neither he nor I expected you to use a teleportation ability for your escape.”  

The headmaster reached out and lightly tapped the villain’s eyepatch.  

Beep.  

“I’ve also turned your eyepatch into a bomb. Oh, and don’t try taking it off. If you tamper with it, it’ll explode immediately. The blast radius is about 50 centimeters—enough to leave nothing behind.”  

Fifty centimeters? That was just a polite way of saying it would blow his head off entirely.  

Surveying the room, the headmaster walked over to a nearby chair.  

“Interrogating an A-rank villain legally can be a real pain. They rarely confess their other crimes, and it’s hard to extract information. And these days, there are people who insist we don’t use abilities that infringe on human rights.”  

Groaning theatrically, he sat down, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together.  

“Well then, speak up. Whether your words are your last will or valuable intel is entirely up to you.”  

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Someone gasped for breath.  

Death.  

As someone aspiring to be a hero, it was something they heard quite often. However, the weight of those words in this situation was on a different level.  

Of course, as long as Ho-cheol was present, there was no way any student would die.  

The extreme expression of “dying” was merely a device to tighten the screws on those who were too complacent.  

Even if the worst-case scenario unfolded beyond Ho-cheol’s expectations, the only ones who would die would be the villains—no student would be injured or killed.  

In the first place, everything happening now was part of a scene Ho-cheol had orchestrated for the students’ real-world training.  

A real battle against villains.  

It was Ho-cheol’s personal ambition, deceiving the academy head, the academy itself, the students, and even the villains.  

No matter how much you tried to simulate reality, practice was still practice. There were things you could only learn in real combat.  

However, among the students who were unaware of Ho-cheol’s true intentions, fear, confusion, and an overwhelming negative atmosphere weighed heavily on them.  

One of the students shouted.  

“If they’re real villains, shouldn’t we evacuate right now?”  

The terrified cry expressed everyone’s feelings.  

However, Ho-cheol neither confirmed nor denied the student’s statement and slowly raised his hand. His finger pointed to the only entrance of the training hall.  

“Look at the door. There’s black mist swirling behind the doorknob. If you touch it or get too close, it will likely trigger a trap.”  

Some sharp-eyed students carefully observed the doorknob. As Ho-cheol had said, they could see the black mist writhing around it.  

“They haven’t been unable to cross over yet. They simply haven’t crossed because it would be easier for them if we triggered the trap first.”  

Even those students who had been puzzled as to why the villains hadn’t attacked stopped talking. If Ho-cheol hadn’t explained, it was obvious what might have happened.  

“In real battles, even trivial actions and choices can cost lives. If it were only your life at stake, it wouldn’t matter. But always remember that innocent civilians could lose their lives because of your choices.”  

Ho-cheol looked at the student who had suggested fleeing and spoke to all the students.  

“If you pursue being a hero, you will face situations like this countless times. If you plan to keep trembling like this every time…”  

Even if they lacked ability, Ho-cheol believed he could mold them into proper heroes if they had determination.  

On the other hand, without the will, no matter how great their abilities were, becoming a hero was impossible.  

“I suggest you consider exploring a different career path while you still can.”  

With those words, Ho-cheol fell silent.  

There was much more he wanted to say, but time was running out.  

The black mist had already grown large enough to completely obscure one side of the training hall’s wall. From beyond the pitch-black mist, a human hand suddenly emerged.  

Shortly afterward, an arm, a leg, a body, and a head burst through the mist. Following them, more figures emerged from the fog.  

As he counted the number of villains, Ho-cheol muttered with mild surprise.  

“Fifty-nine.”  

They’ve brought more than the number of students.  

The other students also seemed overwhelmed by the number and stepped back several paces.  

This kind of attack typically prioritizes stealth and speed with a small, elite group. With such a large force, there seemed to be some ulterior motive.  

As the villains poured out of the mist, a man standing at the forefront stepped forward.  

Unlike the others, who were dressed in practical combat outfits or costumes, he wore a neat suit.  

He stepped forward with a friendly smile.  

“Pleased to meet you. It’s an honor.”  

***

Likewise, Ho-cheol walked toward the villains.  

With his arms crossed, he gave a short response.  

“I’m not pleased. What’s the meaning of interrupting a lecture like this?”  

“Haha, my apologies for the disruption. We’ll try to conclude our business as quickly as possible.”  

“Judging by your suit, there’s a slim chance, but just to be sure—are you a book salesman?”  

“Haha, of course not. As you guessed, we’re villains. But if we could understand each other’s positions and make a small compromise, we could leave quietly right now.”  

The man rubbed his hands together lightly.  

“We’re here at Clington Academy for one reason: to kidnap the only blood relative of the S-class hero, the Sword Saint, Choi Hak-do.”  

Just as expected.  

Ho-cheol glanced back briefly. The other students murmured in shock, but Da-yeon, the villains’ target, remained composed. She merely fixed her gaze on the villains, an arrow nocked on her bow, ready to shoot at any moment.  

The man continued, seeing no reaction from Ho-cheol.  

“If you hand her over, we promise to leave without harming anyone. We have no intention of injuring the students or professors.”  

“Do you even hear yourself?”  

At Ho-cheol’s curt response, two men stepped up beside the suited villain.  

Their identical faces made them almost indistinguishable, momentarily leading others to think they might be clones. However, there were slight differences.  

“Triplets? Doesn’t look like you had surgery to look alike. Interesting bunch.”  

A startled student raised their voice from behind.  

“A-class designated villains… Cerberus Triplets!”  

“Haha, that’s a bit harsh. We go by the cool name ‘Cerberus.’ Still, I’m glad someone recognizes us. Yes, while we’re not top-tier, we’re fairly well-known villains. I’m the youngest. On my left is the eldest, and on my right is the second brother.”  

Ho-cheol, arms still crossed, shrugged slightly.  

“Never heard of you. I don’t have the luxury of keeping track of mere A-class villains.”  

For him, villains below S-class were no different from neighborhood thugs.  

The second brother frowned at Ho-cheol’s blatant disregard.  

He had already been seething with anger, especially after an arrow had grazed his eye four days ago. However, he didn’t act rashly.  

Revenge could wait until after their mission succeeded. In fact, they had already met half the conditions, so it was just a matter of time.  

“Even if you were S-class, my answer wouldn’t have been any different.”  

Ho-cheol massaged the back of his neck and lightly stretched his body.  

“If you lay a hand on my students, I’ll kill you.”  

“Hmm, well, that’s troublesome.”  

The villain scratched his cheek awkwardly.  

“Just the three of us alone are on par with A-rank heroes, and the number of people we brought is overwhelming. The intruder sensors are down, communication with the outside is blocked by the electromagnetic barrier, and escape is impossible. Even the headmaster, Clinton Academy’s greatest asset, is currently absent.”  

Ho-cheol was well aware—after all, he had orchestrated the situation.  

However, he could feel the students growing more anxious behind him.  

“It’s better to sacrifice one person than to let all the students get hurt or die.”  

Ho-cheol didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at the youngest villain for a moment before speaking bluntly.  

“Manipulation-type ability, huh? I wondered why you kept making such absurd suggestions. Turns out, it’s a type of hypnosis triggered by your voice.”  

Ho-cheol turned his head to check on the students behind him.  

Although some were fine, most of them were losing the light in their eyes.  

“Tsk. I didn’t teach them how to deal with manipulation types, so it can’t be helped.”  

Clicking his tongue, Ho-cheol raised his hand, pressing his thumb and middle finger together. He snapped his fingers.  

Bang!  

A sharp, gunshot-like sound rang loudly throughout the entire training hall.  

The students, who had been half-dazed, snapped back to reality in an instant.  

Ho-cheol casually dusted off his hands.  

“For manipulation abilities that affect the brain or mind, you just need to shake the trigger hard. Since in this case, the medium is auditory through voice, you can easily block it with a different kind of sound like this.”  

The youngest villain’s eyes widened in surprise.  

But it didn’t last long—he quickly wiped off his friendly smile, replacing it with a menacing expression.  

“Tsk, I failed. We could’ve taken the easy route.”  

Hypnotic Ability.  

His voice was mixed with frequencies inaudible to human ears, allowing him to put others into a trance, cloud their judgment, or even control their minds.  

“So, that’s your true nature. Well, pretending to be a nice, reasonable person makes it easier to brainwash most people after a few words of conversation.”  

Ho-cheol’s gaze shifted to the villains standing behind him.  

“Then the ones who came with you are mostly pawns, disposable puppets.”  

“You’re sharp. Yeah, I can control up to 100 people with my ability. I brainwashed them all and brought them here.”  

Even though he could control up to 100 people, he had only brought around 50.  

Ho-cheol immediately figured out their next goal.  

“You plan to abduct the entire class.”  

“Exactly. If we only took one person, it’d be too obvious. But if we take the whole class, it’ll delay the academy’s and heroes’ response. Plus, with a former villain professor also missing, it’ll make for great headlines in the media.”  

“What’s your motive? This doesn’t seem like revenge or ideological fanaticism—it’s too frivolous.”  

After running a few scenarios in his mind, Ho-cheol let out a shallow sigh.  

“Money, I suppose.”  

It wasn’t exactly a secret, so the youngest villain nodded without hesitation.  

“Yeah, they promised us enough money to live in luxury for the rest of our lives if we brought her in.”  

The youngest villain took a step back.  

“Well, since negotiations failed, I guess we’ll have to use force. You’ll regret it when your limbs are torn off, but hey, that’s your fate.”  

Turning around, he addressed the other villains.  

“Forget about the professor. Go after the students. Use them as hostages, but don’t kill them.”  

Capturing even one student would secure their victory—a highly advantageous battle for them.  

At the command, the villains began to charge.  

Ho-cheol didn’t block or knock them down. Instead, he turned to the students, who were already gripping their weapons nervously.  

“Faced with this situation, will you cower in fear like fools? Will you merely endure? Or will you do your best to overcome it, perhaps even turn it into an opportunity? That’s for you to decide—if you truly want to become heroes.”  

The brainwashed villains were predictable in their level of skill. They were little more than back-alley thugs who couldn’t control their abilities.  

Moreover, due to the brainwashing, their movements were stiff. Even if their physical stats were superior, the students could still handle them.  

After offering his final piece of advice, Ho-cheol turned back to face the triplets.  

The second brother, who had remained silent until now, smirked and asked, “Aren’t you going to protect the students? What if they die?”  

“Not really. I just checked, and none of the villains you brought seem dangerous.”  

Ho-cheol shoved his hands into his pockets.  

“I won’t kill you, but you won’t be able to commit crimes again.”  

At his calm declaration, the youngest villain sneered mockingly.  

“Ha! You talk big. Fine, let’s see what a mere C-rank villain can do.”  

At that moment, Ho-cheol pulled a pen out of his pocket. The triplets’ eyes briefly followed the pen, and in the blink of an eye, it disappeared.  

The sequence of throwing the pen and it flying through the air was entirely imperceptible. They only realized what had happened when they saw the pen embedded in the youngest’s throat.  

The eldest and second brother stood dumbfounded, wide-eyed and frozen.  

Before they could react, Ho-cheol, who had somehow moved beside the youngest, draped an arm over his shoulder in a friendly manner.  

With a casual tone, he explained, “Abilities like yours are activated through specific body parts, right? If I mess up your vocal cords, it’s over. Once the medium for activation is damaged, even with a healing ability, it can’t be restored.”  

The hypnotic ability itself would still function, but without the special sound required to trigger it, it was effectively useless.  

This was Ho-cheol’s form of punishment.  

He wouldn’t kill them.  

Living as powerless inmates in prison for the rest of their lives would be far more miserable.  

“Stop…”  

Perhaps instinctively sensing what would happen if the pen was removed, the youngest whispered weakly, a faint hissing sound escaping his throat.  

But Ho-cheol merely chuckled and flicked the pen with his finger, shaking it up and down.  

Then,  

“No.”  

With that single word, he yanked the pen out. Blood spurted out from the youngest’s pierced throat like a fountain.  

Clutching his neck, the youngest collapsed to the floor, gasping as though trying to say something, but only coughed up blood.  

Watching this, Ho-cheol shook his head as if genuinely pitying him.  

“The problem with villains is that they talk too much when they think things are going well. Giving up the absolute advantage of having an unknown ability—how foolish.”  

Even considering that the average skill level had declined compared to ten years ago, both heroes and villains these days seemed far too weak.  

“You bastard! You killed our youngest!”  

“Third!”  

As the eldest and second brother charged at him, Ho-cheol twirled the pen in his hand.  

He didn’t care what abilities they had or how dangerous they might be.  

Still, since they were family, sending them to the same prison seemed only fair.  

That was the extent of his thoughts as the pen pierced their foreheads and temples.  

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