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Ho-cheol’s plan lasted a full 10 minutes.  

It was an improvised plan he came up with after entering the dean’s office.  

Despite that, his explanation showed no hesitation or second-guessing.  

The core framework of the plan was solid.  

“But in that situation, I’ll intentionally miss. To allow an escape.”  

Soon, his explanation was nearing its end.  

Engrossed in his explanation, he clenched and unclenched his fist, raising his voice.  

“After confirming everyone’s backing there, the rest will be arrested.”  

Finally finishing his explanation, Ho-cheol sat on the arm of the sofa.  

He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes full of confidence as he looked at the dean.  

“How about it? It’s not easy to wrap things up this neatly, right?”  

The dean was simply astounded by Ho-cheol’s confident demeanor.  

There were gaps in between, and indeed, some parts were risky and illegal, not to mention impossible given the current state of the academy.  

Yet, Ho-cheol’s plan was undeniably persuasive.  

It was certainly better than the vague plan of simply increasing security personnel.  

The illegal and sloppy parts could be overlooked or amended.  

However…  

The essential condition of the plan was far too risky.  

The dean sighed silently.  

During Ho-cheol’s presentation, his reactions were quite varied.  

His expression showed interest, doubt, dismay, anger, and finally, a sense of defeat.  

How many times he wanted to interrupt and ask if he was insane.  

His head throbbing, the dean closed his eyes and covered them with his hand.  

A long silence.  

Ho-cheol had said his piece and was waiting for a response, while the dean was speechless, at a loss for words.  

After a long silence, he finally spoke.  

“This is insane. It’s just too dangerous.”  

“I knew you’d say that.”  

Ho-cheol grimaced with a bitter smile.  

It was somewhat fortunate that he didn’t storm out calling him a madman.  

That was a relief in itself.  

The dean spread the fingers covering his eyes.  

Between his fingers, his narrow eyes glared at Ho-cheol.  

“I can understand adjusting the academy’s defense system or security rotation to induce an attack timing. But…”  

He sighed again.  

“But it’s too much to expect me to leave the academy entirely. Isn’t that leaving the academy completely defenseless?”  

[Execution day, the dean will be absent from the academy.]  

“No matter how I think about it, it’s too much.”  

For the dean, it was a condition too difficult to accept.  

“No. Even if it’s too much, there’s no choice.”  

However, Ho-cheol was adamant.  

While some conditions might be negotiable, this was not merely a choice but a necessity.  

If the dean refused to comply until the end, the plan would simply fall apart.  

Ho-cheol crossed his arms, tapping his forearm with his index finger.  

“Anyway, the academy’s defense system or security is just a side dish. If the main course doesn’t show up, it’s just a minor incident to overlook.”  

The academy’s unique defense system? Professors who were former heroes? Security armed like the military?  

These were just a small part of the academy’s forces.  

The dean was the academy’s strongest card.  

If it were a proper card game, revealing it would guarantee a win.  

But the opponent was a villain.  

Rules were of no interest to them, and winning wasn’t their main concern.  

Whatever sacrifices they had to make, as long as they achieved their goal, it was worth it.  

Ho-cheol crossed his legs as he spoke.  

“It’s not just about creating a timing to call them. What would happen if the old man stays holed up in his office?”  

If he were a villain, such assumptions wouldn’t even be necessary.  

Even as they were speaking, dozens of methods to neutralize the dean flashed through Ho-cheol’s mind.  

Most were successful, and at the same time, they would have caused massive casualties.  

It was a rather dreadful thought.  

“The villains think they have no chance if the old man is at the academy. So, how do they ensure the old man can’t interfere with their plans? Just chase him out of the academy. And how easy is that to arrange?”  

Ho-cheol stood up.  

“The simplest way that comes to mind is causing simultaneous terror attacks in the cities near the academy.”  

There were cities around the academy, and due to its unique location, these cities had fewer and lower-quality heroes compared to their size.  

If the villains were to launch a planned terror attack?  

The academy would receive requests for support, and the dean couldn’t just sit idly by.  

“Even then, you wouldn’t stick around at the academy, would you?”  

The dean couldn’t respond.  

As Ho-cheol said, if a terror attack occurred in the nearby cities, it would be natural to send everyone except a minimum staff to help.  

Staying at the academy to prepare for villains who hadn’t even arrived yet would invite criticism from the media, and in the worst case, the remaining villains might even delay their plans upon seeing the dean there.  

The dean asked with a much more serious expression than before.  

“How large would the terror attack be?”  

“Well, the important thing is that the old man has to leave the academy. It would be big enough that a few professors couldn’t handle it.”  

The dean’s expression twisted.  

Just to divert his attention, innocent civilians would be harmed and killed?  

The mere thought made his blood boil.  

Ho-cheol grimaced with a bitter smile.  

“Even if it’s a winning card, it’s useless against someone who has no intention of playing by the rules.”  

“So, if I’m away from the academy, there won’t be any external terror attacks?”  

The dean’s question was met with a nod from Ho-cheol, who didn’t need to think twice.  

“Using people to divert attention from the academy attack would certainly increase the success rate.”  

The majority of the academy’s faculty were retired from active duty, and their combat effectiveness had diminished, which was part of the reasoning.  

The dean sighed, not knowing how many times he had done so already.  

A sudden question came to mind, and he asked again.  

“What if the villains realize that this situation is a trap we’ve set and choose not to act?”  

“That’s why we push them even more. I told you earlier. Leak the reason for the absence to the press.”  

The dean belatedly understood the second essential condition Ho-cheol had proposed.  

“…Are you talking about a new dean candidate?”  

At Klingon Academy, the deanship had traditionally been held by retired S-class heroes.  

Naturally, the candidates for dean were also S-class.  

Even if they weren’t from a combat background, mediocre villains couldn’t even scratch them if they drove a truck at them.  

Controlling even one S-class hero required a city-wide terror attack, what more for two?  

It was certainly fake news, but from the villains’ perspective, without knowing the truth, it was a chilling prospect.  

“Rather, if the villains have plans that span months or years, they should cancel everything and attack us instead. There’s no better bait to induce their impatience.”  

Ho-cheol spoke firmly as he watched the dean, who seemed still troubled.  

In such a critical situation, seeing the dean ponder ethics, law, and morality, it seemed to Ho-cheol as if the heroes had never really caught him.  

“Yes. It’s fake news, and morally problematic. Some retired S-class heroes might get harassed by the media, but so what? Who gets hurt? Who dies? Any financial, or time losses? Can you even compare those to people getting hurt? Just endure it.”  

Ho-cheol didn’t elaborate further.  

To someone like the dean, a reasonably trustworthy hero, there was no need to divulge more than necessary.  

The less people knew valuable information, the more valuable it remained.  

“Besides, if we follow your plan, you’d have to face most of the villains yourself. Is that even possible in your current state?”  

“Ah, that…”  

Ho-cheol closed his mouth for a moment.  

He had realized something minor when he had experimented overtly; it was conspicuous to test it again, so he had decided to use this incident as a chance to check it covertly.  

He shrugged and smiled slyly.  

“This time is a bit special, so maybe it will pass a bit over the line?”  

“Is that so?”  

The dean closed his eyes.  

He slowly chewed over Ho-cheol’s plan.  

His forehead creased, and a pained sigh continuously escaped from his tightly closed lips.  

Still with his eyes closed, he said, “This plan, at best, breaks even. If it’s only half successful, we fail. And if we fail, we could end up in prison without any surprise.”  

Formally retired heroes, even in the worst-case scenario, would only need to step down according to the manual.  

If his own honor and safety were his priorities, he could just reject Ho-cheol’s suggestion.  

After all, he held the moral high ground.  

However, he couldn’t do that.  

Because he was a hero.  

But Ho-cheol in front of him was neither a hero nor an educator.  

Just because he had seen a positive side of Ho-cheol once, he couldn’t trust him.  

“I am a hero, and as the dean of Clington Academy, I can do whatever it takes to protect my students. That’s why, even though I know it’s dangerous, I can’t refuse your suggestion. But you are not. Even if you pursue being a good human, there are limits. Isn’t it time for you to be cautious to mitigate your sentence? What’s the reason for taking such risks?”  

Ho-cheol did not answer.  

After a long silence, the dean opened his eyes first.  

There was much more he wanted to ask.  

But he closed his mouth again.  

Ho-cheol’s expression was resolute, and his confidence was palpable.  

Any question seemed trivial in front of someone who believed they were right.  

The dean sighed deeply, this time with a different meaning.  

Raising his head, he asked another question.  

“What’s the exact timing?”  

***

Two days later, on Monday at the educational building 2, the locked door opened at exactly 9 AM.  

The students gathered at the entrance began to enter in sequence.  

Among the entering students, including Choi Da-yeon’s group, a blond student yawned tiredly, complaining.  

“Ah, what a hassle to start with this on a Monday first period.”  

The girl with twin pigtails next to her flapped her coat like a penguin, hands in her pockets.  

“Still, aren’t you a bit excited?”  

“What’s there to be excited about?”  

“This educational building is usually only used by third-year students or external heroes for grade assessment. It’s the first time for second-year students to enter, according to the administration assistant. Plus…”  

She pulled a palm-sized staff from her pocket and spun it around.  

“They even asked us to bring personal weapons. I’ve been wanting to really use mine.”  

They had brought their individual weapons as instructed by the administrative office.  

The blond student nodded slightly in agreement.  

She, too, preferred physical activity over fidgeting with a pen in a cramped classroom.  

Of course, it was questionable how intense the ‘practical’ set by a villain-origin professor would be.  

She then looked back at Choi Da-yeon standing a step behind.  

Her expression was as bored as ever, and her bow protruded up and down behind her back, stealing the gaze.  

She couldn’t understand it.  

Why was she still insisting on using a bow?  

Wasn’t it about time to give up?  

Truly stubborn.  

Of course, she didn’t say it out loud, fearing the repercussions.  

As they entered inside, a spacious interior reminiscent of a gymnasium welcomed them.  

In the center of the empty educational hall, only a common chair was placed.  

What was that chair doing there?  

As they pondered this question, Ho-cheol’s voice came from behind them.  

“43 students. No tardiness or truancy, I see.”  

Everyone turned around at once.  

Ho-cheol, dressed in the same suit as last week, stood with his hands behind his back.  

The students parted like the tide, forming two groups.  

As the door of the educational hall closed, Ho-cheol stepped forward between them, looking straight ahead without giving anyone a glance.  

“We’re supposed to have a test today.”  

A few students’ complexions turned sour.  

Even if they knew it, who likes taking tests?  

Ho-cheol had soon stepped off the path made by the students and stood in the center of the hall.  

He habitually adjusted his attire and then plopped down on the chair.  

“That schedule is canceled.”  

The students’ expressions brightened.  

Ho-cheol had planned to test their application skills in real combat scenarios.  

However, with a villain attack almost confirmed, there was no point in exhausting the students’ stamina and focus on a test.  

Why was a combat-preparedness test necessary anyway?  

Just a little more, and they would see.  

If we wait, the real ones will come.  

“There are still a few things to do before that.”  

Ho-cheol paused momentarily and scanned the students.  

Despite not raising his voice like before, the students instinctively took a step back, feeling a chill spreading from their spines throughout their bodies.  

“We will elect a class president.”  

The previously tense atmosphere suddenly relaxed.  

The students murmured amongst themselves in hushed tones.  

They had expected something significant, but it was just the election of a class president.  

Not a school-wide representative, just a class president—hardly something that would be considered a major credential after graduation.  

Moreover, there was an underlying atmosphere of disregard for Ho-cheol, suggesting that perhaps no one would volunteer.  

Unaware of the mood, Ho-cheol opened his bag and took out a notebook and pen.  

“Anyone who wants to apply, step forward.”  

Most students expected no one to volunteer.  

Indeed, no one seemed eager to step up.  

Or so it appeared.  

Da-yeon straightened up, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.  

She adjusted the shoulder of her uniform with her thumb and index finger.  

By nature, a position like class president, which required standing in front of others, was not something she would usually consider valuable.  

But now was different.  

Her relationship with Ho-cheol was, at best, that of a student and a professor.  

The bi-weekly tutoring sessions started merely out of Ho-cheol’s kindness and curiosity and could end at any time without being strange.  

For her, aspiring for more than a student-teacher relationship, the position of class president was a chance not to be missed.  

Moreover, being class president could, admittedly for calculated reasons, potentially increase the number of weekend tutoring sessions or extend their duration.  

Without hesitation, she walked towards Ho-cheol.  

The surrounding students called out to her in surprise, but she didn’t care.  

Or more precisely, she couldn’t even hear their voices.  

After all, the only fitting class president for Ho-cheol was undoubtedly herself.  

Thus, her stride was confident.  

‘I’m the only one.’  

She muttered to herself as she emerged from the group of students and stood before Ho-cheol.  

Ye-jin sighed from a corner.  

She remembered the situation from a week ago.  

Even in a private setting, she was told to participate actively in lectures.  

He had even thrown a line that bordered on asking about her family.  

Certainly, she must be the student who remained most vividly in Ho-cheol’s memory in this class.  

She didn’t want to volunteer as a test subject and attract unwanted attention in such a situation, but what could she do?  

She was already marked, positively or negatively.  

Moreover, a professor-recommended scholarship depended more on the professor’s evaluation than on grades.  

For her, starving for a scholarship, becoming class president was a necessary appeal.  

The only concern was that her part-time job hours were packed after lunch on Mondays, but surely being class president wouldn’t involve errands outside of lecture times?  

She made her way through the group of students on the opposite side.  

Thus, the two students who thought “He must have called me.” approached Ho-cheol without hesitation, and only after reaching him did they realize the other’s presence.  

They stopped simultaneously, turning only their heads to look at each other.  

Though no words were exchanged, the look in their eyes easily read, “What is this girl doing here?”  

Ho-cheol muttered as if surprised.  

“Two applicants, huh? Unexpected.”  

Being class president usually comes with no real authority, and often just a lot of needless work.  

Who would have thought there would be two volunteers?  

After a moment of consideration, he asked them, “I haven’t prepared anything for a vote. So first…”  

Crack—  

A faint and subtle noise, more felt than heard, caused Ho-cheol to stand up.  

He turned his head to look at a corner of the gymnasium.  

In a corner unnoticed by all, black mist began to rise slowly.  

Ho-cheol pulled out his phone from his pocket.  

The screen showed ‘No Service,’ and most functions were disabled.  

The entrance must have been tampered with and completely locked down.  

With no windows in the gymnasium, Ho-cheol and the students were now perfectly isolated.  

Clearly, they were well-prepared.  

The mist quickly grew, reaching the size of a person.  

“What is that?”  

A few students, noticing the mist too late, began to murmur as they looked towards it.  

Ho-cheol, his eyes fixed on the black mist, spoke, “It’s a villain. Move back and divide into groups of four by attendance number. You all learned about villain situations in your first year, so I won’t explain the procedures.”  

Villain.  

That word was heard clearly.  

“…A villain?”  

Ye-jin asked incredulously.  

It seemed unbelievable, yet the intense malice and murderous intent felt beyond the mist made it clear that this was no mere prank or happening.  

And Ho-cheol, betraying their expectations in a too calm and brief declaration, said, “If you panic, you die.”  

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Ho-cheol twisted his nose bridge in discomfort.  

He extended his hand to the side.  

“Bow.”  

Without a word, Da-yeon placed the bow and arrow into his hand.  

Though she couldn’t understand the situation, Ho-cheol’s expression was more serious—no, it was outright dangerous—than ever before.  

One thing was clear: it wasn’t the right moment for her to speak carelessly.  

More than anything, there was a palpable anticipation in her heart that she might witness Ho-cheol’s true abilities in this tense atmosphere.  

“You arrogant bastard.”  

Ho-cheol muttered irritably as he nocked an arrow onto the string.  

A mere gaze shouldn’t have been enough to cause such irritation.  

After all, even the watch on his wrist was constantly monitoring his every move.  

But the gaze from above carried evident hostility, obsession, and something far more lethal.  

The negative emotions, which he had become intimately familiar with during his time as a villain, scratched at his nerves.  

He raised his bow and aimed toward the direction of the gaze.  

How dare they, without knowing their place.  

Creak  

The bow bent to its limit, creaking as if it would snap.  

Though it was merely the act of pulling a string, the ensuing impact was anything but light.  

The space around Ho-cheol distorted, and a heat haze rippled outward.  

Unable to withstand the pressure, Da-yeon, who stood beside him, collapsed to the ground.  

It wasn’t just the air—it felt like the very space itself had grown heavy.  

Struggling to breathe, she raised her head to look at Ho-cheol.  

From below, he didn’t appear human—he merely took on a human shape.  

He was cold like the deep ocean’s abyss yet burned fiercely like blazing flames.  

Just as Ho-cheol’s gaze deepened and darkened further…  

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!  

Suddenly, his wristwatch rang out sharply.  

The shrill mechanical noise clashed with the antique design of the watch.  

It was a warning alarm indicating he was nearing the maximum output allowed by the association.  

“Tsk.”  

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue.  

If he couldn’t control his temper and maintained his output, the special forces would storm into the academy for breach of contract.  

Forget leniency or his position as a professor—everything would be over.  

He couldn’t afford to ruin everything over a few pests.  

Taking a slow breath, he reined in his power.  

The fact that he couldn’t even use 10% of his full strength irritated him, but a promise was a promise.  

The overwhelming presence that had pressed down on the space disappeared gradually and eventually vanished entirely.  

With the power restrained, the watch returned to silence, as if nothing had happened.  

At the same time, he released the string.  

Swish!  

The arrow vanished in an instant, becoming a mere dot in the distance.  

He stared at the sky for a moment, but the gaze he had sensed earlier was no longer there.  

Letting out a sigh, he lowered the bow and turned toward Da-yeon, who was still crouched awkwardly on the ground.  

He handed the bow back to her.  

“Thanks.”  

“Yes.”  

Accepting the bow, Da-yeon wiped the sweat off her forehead and asked,  

“But… what just happened?”  

“Hmm.”  

After a brief moment of contemplation, Ho-cheol ran his hand through his hair.  

“There was a strange pervert.”  

He shrugged.  

“Not anymore.”  

***  

A pitch-black room where not even a sliver of light reached.  

“Aaaaargh!”  

A man rolled on the floor, screaming.  

“My eye! My eye!”  

Creak  

The door opened, and another man entered, clicking his tongue in disdain at the sight of the writhing figure.  

“Come on, little brother. Stop whining—it’s not even a real eye.”  

At those words, the man called ‘Little Brother’ stopped screaming and looked up.  

Blood dripped from his clenched left eye.  

“Big Brother, you say the cruelest things! Even if it’s a prosthetic, I told you it’s linked to my nerves, so the pain is the same!”  

Each shout was punctuated by blood dripping onto the floor.  

His older brother recoiled, grimacing in disgust.  

“Ugh. You clean that up.”  

Bang! Bang!  

His younger brother slammed his fists on the floor in frustration.  

“You bastard! You piece of trash!”  

“You bragged about it being the ultimate undetectable technique. So what happened? You got caught in just four days?”  

Ignoring the mockery, the younger brother shouted back,  

“I wasn’t caught!”  

The academy’s defense system covered the entire campus in a spherical shield, detecting anything within a 300-meter altitude—even tiny insects flying by.  

However, his ‘eye’ was stationed over 400 meters up.  

No matter how advanced the academy’s defense system was, it shouldn’t have been able to detect it.  

Moreover, the eye was enhanced with top-tier traits like ‘invisibility’ and ‘presence elimination,’ each costing billions.  

Despite all that, it had been spotted purely by accident.  

With his arms crossed, the older brother asked,  

“Then what’s all this about? From the looks of it, I figured you’d miscalculated the range and got zapped by electricity.”  

“Not the target or the academy’s defense system! Someone else shot me!”  

“Oh? And you saw who?”  

His older brother widened his eyes in surprise.  

He dragged a chair to the table and sat down.  

In the center of the table was a monitor connected to the mechanical eye, recording everything his younger brother had seen.  

“Let’s see how impressive this guy is.”  

He pressed the playback button, and the recorded scene of Ho-cheol began to play.  

Watching Ho-cheol intently, the older brother muttered,  

“He’s young. Too young to be in the academy.”  

On screen, Ho-cheol raised his bow and aimed.  

The arrow grew larger, and with a soft thud, the video abruptly ended.  

“He couldn’t have aimed directly at you… He’s got good instincts. Let’s see…”  

Taking out his phone, he quickly tapped on the screen, comparing the monitor and his phone.  

His head tilted in confusion.  

“There’s no record of him in last year’s directory. Must be a newly appointed professor.”  

He’s young.  

And his instincts are sharp.  

But that was the extent of his assessment.  

From what he saw on the monitor, Ho-cheol’s abilities were unimpressive.  

It took a long time to aim, and the power of the charged arrow was merely average.  

At best, if he were a hero, he would barely rank as a B-grade.  

Moreover, being a professor at the academy rather than an active hero at his age clearly indicated some serious defect that prevented him from functioning in real combat.  

To those who dismissed even A-grades as insignificant, Ho-cheol’s existence didn’t even qualify as a minor variable.  

The younger brother staggered to his feet and pulled an eyepatch from his pocket, covering his left eye.  

“That bastard! Do you know how much this eye costs?”  

It was a top-tier prosthetic eye, with a minimum price starting in the billions.  

He hadn’t even used it for a few weeks, and now it was ruined.  

The younger brother stomped the ground irritably, vowing to rip out the bastard’s eye if they ever crossed paths again.  

The older brother crossed his arms and shook his head.  

“What does it matter? If this job succeeds, you can eat that eye like candy for all I care.”  

“So, is the deal done?”  

“That’s why I came back.”  

“How much is it?”  

He had been waiting for this question. He could hardly contain his excitement, itching to boast. Standing up with a grin, the older brother declared,  

“When I pushed them for more, they easily agreed to raise it. 5 billion won for killing the target. 7 billion if we bring back the body.”  

“Wow, 5 billion just for killing them.”  

The younger brother was genuinely impressed by the spender’s extravagance. Who were these people, to throw around money like it was nothing?  

“Who is that person anyway? How do they have so much money?”  

The younger brother tried to recall the events from a few months ago.  

A small villain organization he had never even heard of.  

Not only were they unknown, but they hadn’t even made any waves in the underground world.  

Yet they had such financial power.  

“Do you think that’s the end of it?”  

The older brother couldn’t suppress his laughter anymore.  

The unpleasant sound of his laughter echoed through the room.  

Barely able to hold back his grin, he added,  

“1 trillion won if we capture them alive.”  

“Limbs?”  

“As long as they’re breathing, it doesn’t matter.”  

The younger brother was dumbfounded and let out a shallow gasp.  

Then he smiled broadly, revealing his gums.  

“Getting that much money for taking out a single brat? This is like hitting the jackpot. Time to turn our lives around.”  

These three brothers were a small-time villain group operating solely among themselves.  

Due to their limited size, they rarely came across such lucrative opportunities.  

This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.  

The younger brother erased his smile and asked,  

“So, where’s the youngest?”  

“He’s busy gathering bait. He says he’s already got about a hundred, so we can set a date soon.”  

They exchanged unpleasant smiles and turned their gaze to the side.  

The wall was covered with hundreds of photos, all of a single person.  

***

As dusk settled, Ho-cheol headed toward the dean’s tower.  

He worried that the dean might not be there since it was the weekend, but fortunately, it wasn’t a wasted trip.  

Though surprised by Ho-cheol’s sudden visit, the dean let him into his office without any resistance.  

“Dropping by unannounced on a weekend evening… What’s this about?”  

Perched on the armrest of the sofa, Ho-cheol gave a brief account of what had happened earlier that day.  

When he finished, the dean set down the document he was holding.  

Spinning the pen in his hand, the dean let out a sigh.  

“Malice bordering on murderous intent, you say.”  

“Yeah. Judging by the vibe, they didn’t seem like amateurs who’d only killed a few people. Though I’m not sure now, if I judge them by the standards of my time, they’d easily be rated A-grade.”  

“Are they dangerous?”  

“More than dangerous, they seemed insane.”  

The dean stood from his seat and sat opposite Ho-cheol.  

“Since you’re the one saying this, it’s unlikely to be a simple misunderstanding.”  

Due to his past crimes, Ho-cheol’s character remained difficult to trust.  

It’s easy to lose trust, but regaining it is another story.  

That being said, the dean acknowledged Ho-cheol’s abilities.  

If someone like him was using such intense expressions, this wasn’t something to be taken lightly.  

“But I must admit, this is surprising. You don’t seem like the type to report or bother about such matters.”  

“That’s precisely why I came to you.”  

Ho-cheol placed his feet on the table between the sofas.  

“After thinking it over, it seems like those bastards aren’t after me. They’re targeting the students.”  

The dean’s expression turned far more serious than before.  

“They’re targeting the students? What makes you think that?”  

“It’s sloppy and excessive.”  

He raised two fingers and waved them.  

“If they knew who I really was, they wouldn’t use such a crude method to monitor me. It’s obvious they’d get caught. And if they were targeting me under my fake identity, that’s even stranger.  

Why would they come after me, a mere C-grade villain?”  

After some thought, the dean asked,  

“While that may explain why you aren’t the target, it doesn’t necessarily prove they’re after the students either. And put your feet down.”  

While it’s true that academy students are potential threats to villains, the sheer number of active heroes—who are far more dangerous—reaches the tens of thousands.  

There’s no reason to target fresh, inexperienced students.  

“No.”  

Ho-cheol firmly rebutted.  

“They’re not targeting the academy’s students in general. They’re after the offspring of an S-grade hero, which is enough motive.”  

The dean furrowed his brows.  

He didn’t need to think long—only one student fit that description.  

Rubbing his face, the dean sighed.  

His tired expression made him look years older in an instant.  

“…I know who you’re talking about. I’ll ask later why you were with her over the weekend, but if that’s the case, this is a very complicated situation.”  

He twisted his mustache between his thumb and forefinger.  

“Security is already tight, and our budget is stretched thin, but we’ll have to reinforce it further.”  

Hearing that, Ho-cheol couldn’t hide his exasperation.  

He heaved a deep sigh and pressed his thumbs against his temples.  

“This is ridiculous. Right, I completely forgot. You’re still a hero after all.”  

Ho-cheol opened his eyes and stared at the dean.  

“Did you think I came here just to hear you say you’d increase security?”  

“Then what do you want? Surely you’re not suggesting we send the student home?”  

“That’s exactly the problem with you hero types.”  

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue in genuine disdain.  

“Why are you just waiting for them to make a move? Because you’re heroes? And they’re villains? Is self-defense that important to you? Stop clinging to such outdated ideals.”

Even after experiencing all that, they still haven’t changed their attitude—probably won’t until the day they die.  

“Old man, what’s important to you right now? Your pride as a hero? The rules you’ve set for yourself as a dean? The law as a citizen? No, it’s something simpler—the students. Their lives. Is there anything more important than that?”  

“…No, there isn’t.”  

“It’s the same for me. Law? Rules? Morality? Of course, they matter, and it’s good to follow them. But not more than a person’s life.”  

Ho-cheol lowered his legs from the table, leaned forward, and spoke in a low voice.  

“Instead of sitting idle, waiting for villains who may strike at any moment…”  

He straightened up, leaned back comfortably against the sofa, and crossed his legs.  

Clenching his fist, he lightly tapped the armrest of the sofa.  

“Let’s strike first.”  

The dean laughed in disbelief, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.  

“You can’t condemn someone for a crime they haven’t committed. They haven’t even made an attempt yet—no, they’re completely innocent for now.”  

“I know that much. I’m not saying we should barge into their hideout and tear their limbs off or something.”  

Ho-cheol opened his clenched fist and twisted his wrist back and forth.  

“What I’m suggesting is that we set the stage perfectly in advance and make a preemptive move to prepare for any risks.”  

The dean stared silently at Ho-cheol for a long time.  

“You know, with that expression, you look very much like a villain.”  

“So, do you dislike the idea?”  

The dean raised a hand and touched the eyepatch covering his eye.  

He couldn’t bring himself to say he disliked it.  

After biting his lip a few times, he sighed and answered.  

“Let’s hear it first.”  

“Good.”  

Satisfied with the answer, Ho-cheol stood up.  

With his hands clasped behind his back, he began to walk in circles around the dean’s office.  

“No matter how inferior villains may be compared to heroes, they are dangerous because we never know when or where they’ll show up.”  

After about ten laps around the room, Ho-cheol returned to his original spot.  

Turning sideways, he spoke.  

“But what if we knew exactly when and where they would appear?”  

“Then we could easily subdue and arrest them.”  

“Exactly. Just like dealing with street thugs. That’s all they’d be.”  

The dean silently nodded in agreement.  

Heroes are always at a disadvantage.  

When villains commit crimes, heroes must react based on information, always cleaning up the aftermath.  

“So, let’s flip the idea. Let’s be the ones to choose the day.  

A day when the villains have no choice but to show up.”  

“How?”  

“Your role in this is quite simple. So simple, in fact, that it’s almost non-existent.”  

Ho-cheol closed his eyes briefly, organizing the plan that floated in his mind.  

Then, he opened them and began.  

“First…”  

He started explaining.  

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The blonde female student was literally dying inside.

She only snapped at the person in front of the kiosk because they seemed utterly lost, as if they had been living in the mountains for the past decade despite her already busy schedule.

With the school year for third-year students starting in a week, the campus cafeteria was populated only by sophomores and freshmen “chicks.” Especially since it was the first day of classes, she expected freshmen to be pondering over the menu.

But a professor? And not just any professor, but the one she had seen lecturing just two hours earlier.

If there were a god, she would grab him by the scruff right now, so frustrated she felt.

While she grumbled to herself, Ho-cheol reached out and tapped the female student’s shoulder.

“I’ll grab a seat first, so just order and come over,” he said.

“Okay…” she replied.

As Ho-cheol went to find a table, she stood dejectedly in front of the kiosk.

Why couldn’t her power be to rewind time or erase someone’s memory?

Instead, she had augmentation powers!

Now she found herself in a situation where she had to share a meal with the professor she inadvertently offended. Half in a daze, she picked a meal ticket and hesitantly approached where Ho-cheol was sitting, taking a seat across from him.

Ho-cheol asked with a teasing smile, “What’s your name?”

“Ah.”

Only then did the female student realize just how foolish she had been.

The half-hour orientation barely qualified as a lecture, and since attendance wasn’t even called, it’s likely Ho-cheol wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t made a fuss.

Of course, he might recognize her in the next class, potentially leading to an awkward situation, but it would at least be better than now.

She wished she could smack her forehead. 

‘Idiot! Just play dumb!’

Ho-cheol, with a slightly surprised look, commented, “I thought I was free of prejudices, but ‘Ah’ as a name is still surprising. Is it a single character? What’s your surname?”

“……”

“Your parents didn’t put much thought into it, huh?”

The female student vigorously shook her head in response. 

“No! I’m Jung Yae-jin.”

“Really? Well, if your name were just ‘Ah,’ that would have been odd. Yae-jin, I assume you said what you did behind my back for a reason,” Ho-cheol chuckled.

“Must have been really hungry to say that,” he added.

Yae-jin smiled awkwardly and agreed, “Yes, yes… I skipped breakfast.”

“Good thing we got past that easily,” Ho-cheol nodded slowly.

“You should always have breakfast. Especially in the augmentation class; it’s really hard without it, both physically and mentally. I skipped breakfast myself because of the nerves from the first lecture.”

“That so? Ahaha…”

As he straightened his posture and crossed his legs, the light smile that had been lingering on his lips vanished instantly. His expression was colder than during the lecture.

“I’m already full from getting chewed out by someone,” he stated.

Yae-jin’s body jerked up and down significantly.

So startled, a hiccup burst through her tightly closed lips, and a chill ran down her spine. The cold sweat running down her back wasn’t just her imagination.

She hastily waved her hands.

“No, no. I mean, since this cafeteria is frequented mostly by students, and professors usually eat at the staff cafeteria. And because you look so young from the back, I mistook you for another student or peer, haha, and your fashion sense makes you look even younger…”

She rambled on without catching her breath, spinning her eyes as she eventually lost track of her own words.

Finally, after more rambling, she slammed her forehead on the table with a thud.

“I’m sorry!”

“That’s fine, apology accepted,” Ho-cheol uncrossed his legs and coolly accepted her apology.

He had been teasing her just for fun and wasn’t really offended. Plus, teasing her more might actually take her breath away, and he couldn’t kill a student in the first week.

Yae-jin lifted her head sneakily to gauge Ho-cheol’s expression, worrying he might backstab her again over time.

“Don’t tense up like that; it makes me feel bad. I won’t make a big deal out of this, so don’t worry.”

Ho-cheol reassured her again, and she let out a sigh of relief.

Ding-dong—

Just then, the numbers on their meal tickets appeared simultaneously on the wall’s display.

Seeing Ho-cheol about to stand, Yae-jin quickly got up.

“Ah, let me get the meal tickets for you.”

“Are you worried I’ll block the way and stand there stupidly like I did with that machine?”

“No, that’s not what I meant!”

“That’s okay. I don’t like being burdened with favors,” he said, and with that, Yae-jin had no choice but to back down.

She then looked at Ho-cheol with an unexpected respect.

For someone with a villain background, every move he made was impeccably clean.

Could it be that he’s highly educated despite being a villain?

***

Ho-cheol had chosen the sweet potato cheese pork cutlet he had been wanting to try for a while, and Yae-jin picked up the daily special from the cafeteria and returned to her seat.

Ho-cheol marveled quietly at the tray across from him. “So that’s the 2,500 won menu. It looks really good.”

The tray was piled high with rice, soup, and three different side dishes.

Yae-jin, refreshing her palate, picked up her chopsticks. “That’s why it’s really popular.”

Of course, her insistence on this menu was simply because it was the cheapest option. Her budget was tight until her part-time job paycheck came in.

Yae-jin waited with her chopsticks at the ready, starting to eat only after Ho-cheol began his meal. “How are your grades?”

“Ah, yes. They were quite good in my freshman year.”

“Made a lot of friends?”

“Uh. Um. That is. There are so many lectures, and hardly any that overlap, so I don’t really have close friends… ahahaha…”

Though the conversation occasionally veered towards uncomfortable topics, they managed to navigate it reasonably well.

Worried about more awkward questions, Yae-jin repeatedly sipped her soup.

‘Is this soup going into my mouth, or my nose?’

As they continued eating, Ho-cheol, having eaten about half of his tray, flicked his spoon up and down. “So, are the lectures worthwhile?”

Yae-jin almost choked, desperately trying to suppress it, and managed a twisted smile.

A dead-on question that was as hard to deflect as a well-aimed fastball had been thrown at her, causing her side dish of bean sprouts to roll off her chopsticks. 

“Villains say such things. You didn’t just let it go in one ear and out the other, did you?”

“No, not at all!” she blurted out, her body shaking.

“So, are you saying the others did?”

It felt like rolling bare-bodied into a minefield. Every word was dangerous.

Knowing that silence was the answer, she kept her mouth firmly shut.

Ho-cheol shrugged off her reaction nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal. I expected some pushback.”

That’s why the first week of lectures ended shortly without any serious lectures. “But wouldn’t it be a loss for both of us if you didn’t focus in lectures just because you didn’t like them?”

“That’s… true.”

“If there’s anything difficult or hard beyond the lectures, feel free to ask anytime.”

“Understood.”

It was unexpected.

Both his bold declaration in the first lecture and his remarks now reflected a certain mindset. She could definitely feel the essential qualities of an educator.

Suddenly, she recalled the last scene of today’s lecture with Ho-cheol.

At that time, nobody dared to speak freely due to the overwhelming atmosphere, but thinking back, he wasn’t much different from an ordinary professor.

After a moment of thought, she cautiously put down her chopsticks and asked. “Um, this is a bit off-topic from the lecture, but may I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You’re quite a special case as a professor. So, do you have the same authority as regular professors?”

“Authority?”

Ho-cheol stroked his chin with his fingertips. “What kind of authority?”

“Well, that is…” 

Yae-jin pressed her index and thumb fingers together, wiggling them up and down as she gauged Ho-cheol’s reaction. “There’s something like a priority recommendation for scholarships under a professor’s authority.”

“Scholarships. I know tuition is quite cheap here.”

As expected of a Hero Academy. The country didn’t want to lose out on exceptional talents just because of money, so the tuition at Clingtone was ridiculously affordable compared to other higher education institutions. It was cheaper than a year’s tuition for the latest smartphone model. 

“Ah, there’s a scholarship that cuts from tuition, and another that deposits money directly into an account. It’s the latter in this case.”

“Ah, so the goal is to get money deposited into the account?”

Ho-cheol chuckled. 

She quickly denied it, interpreting his laughter as mockery. “It’s not just about the money!”

“What’s not? You obviously look very keen on money. It’s okay. I like money too. Not every hero is a self-sacrificing masochist addicted to their own sacrifices; some may pursue money. Anyway.”

He picked up his chopsticks again and tapped the ends together. “I’ll have to check on that, but I’ll let you know by the next lecture.”

“Ah, thank you.”

As they continued their meal, Ho-cheol’s gaze shifted to Yae-jin’s tray. Beyond admiration, he felt respect when he saw her tray.

He thought he had neat eating habits since he usually didn’t leave leftovers, but she was different.

Ho-cheol had completely cleaned his plate, leaving hardly a trace of sauce. 

‘How did you manage that?’ he wondered as he watched.

As Yae-jin put down her chopsticks after emptying her bowl, she said, “Thank you for the meal.”

She noticed Ho-cheol still had food left and hesitated slightly. Understanding her gesture, Ho-cheol waved his hand. “Don’t worry, you can go ahead.”

Yae-jin glanced at the clock on the wall. Although it wasn’t polite to leave first, she was pressed for time. With an apologetic expression, she stood up. “I have another appointment, so I’ll be going now.”

“Alright. If you want that scholarship, participate actively in class and avoid causing trouble with strangers. Oh, wait a moment.”

Yae-jin paused halfway up, in an awkward stance. Ho-cheol asked, “Do you have an older sister? Or maybe a close relative who’s a hero?”

“No, I don’t have anyone like that.”

“Is that so?”

Relief or disappointment, Ho-cheol felt both as he sighed. “Alright, go on.”

“Yes, then.” Yae-jin returned her tray to the dish return area, glanced back at Ho-cheol with a deep bow, and quickly left the cafeteria.

Until she completely disappeared from view, Ho-cheol didn’t touch the remaining food. He picked up his chopsticks again, but his gaze remained fixed on the exit of the cafeteria. “She looks familiar.”

Ho-cheol was skeptical. He thought he had seen her somewhere before the lecture, and she greatly resembled a hero he had personally known during his villain days.

Not just any hero, but the one who had been pivotal in his reformation, a significant influence in his life. Of course, their last names were different, and he hadn’t heard any mention of her family. Moreover, Yae-jin herself said she had no heroic kin, so he assumed she just resembled that person. “Still, I’m suspicious.”

Maybe it’s worth digging a little deeper.

***

On a Saturday afternoon, at Da-yeon’s private archery range, Ho-cheol’s lecture was in full swing.

Ho-cheol, with his arms crossed, stood next to Da-yeon and instructed, “You pulled too much. I said to draw only 70% of your usual strength.”

Following his advice, Da-yeon slowly adjusted her shoulder angle. It was a subtle difference that she only realized after being corrected, but Ho-cheol caught every slight misalignment.

Despite the chilly weather, sweat poured down as if it were raining. Sweat trickled into her eyes, but there was not even a slight tremor at the tip of her bow.

“Now.”

At Ho-cheol’s command, Da-yeon released the bowstring.

Swish!

Simultaneously, she twisted her body and drew a second arrow. It was a motion she had practiced hundreds, if not thousands, of times. The movement from her toes through her entire body was fluid and flawless. Without a moment’s hesitation, she shot the second arrow.

Both arrows hit the dead center of their respective targets. The time difference between the two arrows hitting the targets was less than a second; they almost seemed to strike simultaneously.

“Tsck.”

Ho-cheol clicked his tongue and shook his head. By his standards, it was inadequate and almost pitiful.

“Too slow. Again.”

“Yes.”

Without a complaint, Da-yeon ran to retrieve the arrows from the target and returned with her bow raised. “You said we won’t move to posture correction until the time difference between two shots is less than 0.1 seconds.”

The passing mark had been much lower last time because he had improvised his coaching, but not this time. Now, Da-yeon herself had asked for the training, and he demanded much stricter and perfect results.

“I know,” Da-yeon responded calmly.

The ultimate goal of this stance was for both arrows to hit their intended targets simultaneously.

She repeated the same stance a hundred, a thousand times. Yet, Da-yeon approached each repetition as if it were her first.

She had no time to feel boredom or fatigue.

Before enrolling in the academy, many people had come to teach her various things, but she had learned nothing from them.

However, Ho-cheol was different.

If she repeated something a hundred times, she improved beyond her initial self. A thousand repetitions surpassed a hundred times her previous self.

Effort leads to progress.

This simple truth alone made her cherish the present moment to the point of ecstasy.

Based on Ho-cheol’s critiques and advice, she endlessly repeated a single stance.

And 83 minutes after Ho-cheol arrived at the archery range.

“0.089 seconds.”

She finally heard the evaluation she had been longing for.

“Finally passed.”

For the first time, he nodded his approval.

“Well done.”

His praise was brief and unemotional, but to Da-yeon, it offered a sense of achievement and satisfaction she had never experienced before.

A rush of intense pleasure swept through her. She closed her eyes and shivered slightly. A desire to possess him more fully welled up inside her.

When she opened her eyes again, the resolve in her gaze had vanished. As the tension and focus dissipated, the accumulated fatigue seemed to surge all at once, and her body swayed.

Seeing this, Ho-cheol spoke briefly. “Let’s stop here for today.”

“I can do more…”

“Don’t be stubborn like a child.”

Ho-cheol cut her off decisively.

Until just moments ago, he hadn’t interfered because her concentration was at its peak, but her physical condition had been at its limit for the past ten minutes. Any more would be torture, not training.

“Continuing in this state will only instill bad habits.”

“Okay, I’ll stop for today.”

Da-yeon nodded obediently.

As Ho-cheol had said, anything more would have been mere stubbornness. She felt dizzy, her eyes kept closing, and she longed to lie down right there on the ground, let alone make it to a bed. After all, he had originally agreed to watch her posture for only an hour, and that hour had long passed.

She took a deep breath to check her physical condition.

Her overworked muscles screamed in pain. She had sweated so much that her uniform felt heavy.

“Tomorrow, we’ll focus on image training and managing your condition…”

Ho-cheol stopped mid-sentence and abruptly lifted his head.

His gaze turned to the sky.

“You.”

Although invisible, it was unmistakably felt.

“What are you doing?”

Something up there was watching him.

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