“I’m glad too.”
After receiving the business card, Ho-cheol checked both sides of it and frowned.
[Villain Reformation Psychological Counseling Center Counselor Han So-hee]
“There’s nothing correct here except the name.”
So-hee shrugged nonchalantly and replied,
“It’s an external title used within the academy. I actually have a counseling license too. Anyway.”
She tilted her head this way and that, scrutinizing Ho-cheol’s face. Nearly a decade in prison, they said he was practically a hermit, but in person, he didn’t seem so. His gauntness rather stirred a strange emotion.
“I was a bit scared hearing you were a brutal criminal sentenced to 200 years. You look pretty normal, huh?”
His appearance was quite different from the prisoner documents she had checked a few days ago. In the pictures, he looked terribly frightening.
“Maybe you’re just not photogenic?”
Ho-cheol lost his words momentarily, then narrowed his brows and clicked his tongue.
“This……………..”
To Ho-cheol, the image of an association-affiliated agent was exceedingly simple. They were always cold, businesslike, and cynical.
Especially those agents who worked in the field tended to have a stronger disposition.
However, the woman before him did not fit into any of those categories.
He had been inwardly hopeful about how capable an agent assigned to monitor him alone would be. Real S-class agents would be busy with monster hunting or villain suppression, but he expected at least a borderline S-class level.
With his arms crossed, he expressed his honest feelings.
“A real loser has been assigned to monitor me. It’s quite unsettling.”
“I hear that often. In fact, I heard it from the director this morning too. But it’s still hurtful, you know?”
“Uh, sorry. It’s been years since I’ve talked to someone. Not used to it.”
Ho-cheol waved his hand and apologized straightforwardly.
That was a bit of an overstatement. If things go well, they might have to see each other for a long time, so picking fights or getting angry would do no good.
Ho-cheol pocketed the business card and got into the car.
The car moved forward as if it had been waiting.
He gazed absently at So-hee’s profile.
“Anyway, why would you take on such a job? It’s not popular.”
Just from their brief conversation, he had grasped her personality. She didn’t seem the type to feel a calling for this kind of job, nor was she hungry for promotion.
“A demotion. Or did you get forced into this?”
“It’s all because I’m competent. It’s not entirely without issues though.”
“If they really assigned you this job based on your abilities.”
Ho-cheol muttered softly, stroking his chin.
“Sensory type. No, is it related to psychological traits?”
It wasn’t a big secret, so So-hee nodded.
“Right. I can spot a lie better than any device in the world, so don’t even dream of lying to me.”
“Lie detector?”
“Young people these days really shorten everything when they talk.”
“But even with today’s technology, aren’t all lie detectors pretty much the same? If I wanted to, I could manipulate my heartbeat or pulse, and it would never be detectable through vocal cues.”
Ho-cheol himself had no such intentions, but for an A-class, controlling one’s heartbeat, pulse, or vocal cues was a simple task.
Modern lie detectors were like toys for children.
So-hee raised her index finger from the hand holding the steering wheel and wiggled it side to side as she proudly explained.
“That’s ordinary lie detectors for you. I don’t just rely on external factors like that to distinguish truth from lies, I look at the most fundamental part of a human, the color of their conscience.”
Ho-cheol’s eyebrows narrowed then relaxed again.
“Color?”
“There’s this saying, right? Someone’s insides are black, or they are as white as snow. There’s also the phrase ‘a white lie.’ To me, that’s not just a metaphorical expression; I can actually see it.”
“That’s fascinating.”
After all, the world was full of unusual traits, so having the ability to differentiate a person’s conscience by color wasn’t strange.
The signal changed, and the car stopped.
“And here.”
So-hee pulled out a stack of documents from her bag and handed one over.
“Here’s a copy of the contract you signed last time. You should have it.”
“Yeah, it’s best to make sure everything is clear so we both can be at ease. So, how exactly will the monitoring be done?”
“It’s all in the documents, but to explain, I will be monitoring you. However, I won’t be with you 24/7. I’ll check on you once before you leave for work in the morning, once when you come home, and then we’ll rotate calls every six hours.”
Ho-cheol narrowed his eyes as he flipped through the documents.
“Doesn’t that seem a bit lax for strict management?”
“My ability can be triggered over the phone as well. If you decide to run away, it’s not like I can physically stop you. It’s easier to respond from a safe place over a call.”
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason. So-hee’s ability was among the top in the psychological category, but it had a limit on how many times it could be used per day.
A maximum of five times a day. Any more contact with Ho-cheol would be pointless.
“Besides, there’s that.”
So-hee’s gaze shifted to Ho-cheol’s wrist, and he nodded as if he understood.
“Yeah, that’s true.”
Ho-cheol’s management and control.
Among these, So-hee’s role leaned more towards management. What controlled him was the wristwatch he was currently wearing.
It looked like a watch, but its purpose and functionality were closer to handcuffs or shackles.
It tracked his location 24/7, recorded audio, and at regular intervals, a needle from inside the watch would inject a drug that suppressed his abilities.
Being injected with a near-lethal dose of the drug daily was not a pleasant feeling for Ho-cheol.
He twirled his wrist around, grumbling.
“Even so, this is too much. To wear it even while sleeping or showering? That’s over the top.”
What if he developed a rash?
“Isn’t it better than having a dozen agents following you around?”
“That’s true, but at least it’s a relief that the design is pretty. If it were one of those electronic ankle monitors, I definitely wouldn’t wear it.”
Ho-cheol re-checked the contents of the documents.
There was nothing significantly different or notable from the last time.
After checking the last page, he casually threw the documents onto the back seat.
He rested his elbow on the window ledge and propped his chin.
“Are we heading straight to the academy?”
“Yes.”
A brief silence followed,
“Oh!”
Ho-cheol, who had been staring blankly out the window, suddenly jolted.
Startled, So-hee gripped the steering wheel tightly and asked urgently,
“What, what is it!”
He slowly turned his head towards So-hee and asked,
“Tofu?”
“Ah.”
It seemed her tension finally eased as she slumped back against the seat, feeling foolish for having been so tense.
The headquarters agents probably listening in through his wristwatch must be feeling similar.
With her heart still trembling, she barely managed to reply,
“……Isn’t that expecting too much from a civil servant?”
“Asking for tofu isn’t too much to ask. Well, yeah. In the old days, they used to take care of such things. Not so much these days.”
Ho-cheol mumbled awkwardly as he turned his gaze back to the window.
However, his murmuring carried a tone of disappointment.
So-hee pointed to a black envelope visible in the rearview mirror.
“Open that.”
It was good that she had brought it, just in case.
***
After quickly devouring the tofu So-hee brought, Ho-cheol started nodding off and soon fell completely asleep.
“What the….”
Seeing him like this, So-hee was dumbfounded.
Given her profession, she had seen her fair share of villains, though not a staggering amount.
And a villain like Ho-cheol was unprecedented.
Could he really be the ferocious villain whose real name was classified as top secret?
If his demeanor was all an act, he had enough talent to make it big as an actor, not a villain.
Despite appearing relaxed and confident on the outside, this was her first time handling such a high-risk mission.
She felt foolish for having written a will just in case.
She sneaked a glance at Ho-cheol and then sighed, looking back to the road ahead.
The weather was annoyingly clear.
Some time had passed.
“We’ve arrived.”
So-hee’s statement woke Ho-cheol, who rubbed his face with both hands and yawned.
“We arrived quickly.”
“It’s been three hours.”
“Really? I didn’t wake up once, so you must have driven well.”
With his half-hearted compliment, he looked out the window.
The first thing he saw was a massive gate.
Beyond it, the sprawling grounds of the academy were vast beyond mere words.
Under the brilliant sunlight, the buildings of the academy sparkled.
Each one, towering over ten stories high, showed a bit of wear but boasted a grandeur beyond their age.
Clarington Hero Academy.
Among the numerous hero academies worldwide, it was renowned as one of the most prestigious.
The fact that 70% of S-class heroes were alumni spoke volumes about its reputation.
The car continued a good distance inside the main gate.
The academy grounds had mountains and lakes, and even a city designed for practical training, not to mention its own set of laws applicable only within the academy.
It was practically a small nation in itself.
“So, having come all the way to the academy, you’re not going to tell me to start classes today, are you?”
“Of course not. School isn’t even in session yet. We have an appointment with the dean first.”
“A question I probably know the answer to, but the dean’s a hero, right?”
So-hee nodded.
“The deans of Clarington have always been S-class heroes. The current dean retired as an S-class hero 20 years ago, and I believe his hero name was…………”
“If he was active back in those days, I probably wouldn’t recognize the name anyway.”
The car stopped in front of a central, stark white building.
The cone-shaped tower, devoid of windows, soared upwards, reminiscent of ivory.
It might have been about thirty stories tall.
From a distance, it looked merely like a cone, but up close, it spiraled elegantly with smooth curves.
Entering the building, a staff member seemed to have been waiting and approached them.
After exchanging a few words with So-hee, the staff member led the way.
They followed the staff member into an elevator and arrived directly at the top floor.
As the doors opened, a corridor laid with red carpet unfolded before them, ending at a door made of fine wood, which exuded its presence.
Unlike Ho-cheol and So-hee, who stepped out, the staff member remained in the elevator but pointed towards the end of the corridor.
“Just go straight ahead to the dean’s office. I’ll leave you here.”
As the elevator and the staff member disappeared, Ho-cheol looked at the door of the dean’s office and muttered a brief observation.
“Doesn’t the taste seem too old-fashioned?”
Considering the dean had retired 20 years ago, his age was easily imaginable.
The average retirement age for an S-class was around 50, so he would be around 70 now.
It was indeed the age to have things planned well in advance.
So-hee asked with a noticeably uneasy expression,
“You won’t talk like that in front of the dean, will you?”
“Of course not.”
They walked down the plush corridor and stopped in front of the door.
Just as So-hee was about to knock, a voice came from beyond it.
“Come in.”
The voice was deep and authoritative.
Hearing it, Ho-cheol moved his eyes back and forth, finding it oddly familiar.
So-hee reached for the doorknob.
As the door slowly opened,
Creeeeak—
Meanwhile, Ho-cheol continued to rack his brain, trying to place the voice.
Just as the door was half open, he frowned deeply.
He finally remembered.
And immediately regretted recalling it.
The owner of the voice and he were anything but on good terms.
In fact, to put it bluntly, their relationship was quite bad.
Of all the S-class heroes, it had to be this old man who was the dean.
He murmured in despair,
“This is bad.”
And at that moment.
Boom—!
The door exploded.
Cliche Novel 