Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 21: Association

Ho-cheol gazed up at the slope where the boulders had rolled down.

Three gazes—no, two?

They weren’t rolling more rocks, so they likely meant to block the path, not kill outright.

He muttered dryly.

“The problem is who they’re after.”

As he scanned the surroundings, So-hee called softly.

“Um…”

Moments ago, she’d been rattled by the rockfall, but now, calming down, she couldn’t ignore it.

“Could you let go of my hand?”

“Hand? Oh, right.”

His hand, placed over hers to turn the wheel, still rested there.

She’d tried to pull away, but his grip was too firm.

He belatedly lifted it.

Rubbing her hand, So-hee glanced at where he was looking.

Unlike him, she saw nothing.

Instead, eyeing the blocking boulders, she asked?

“This isn’t just a rockfall, is it?”

“No rain recently—what rockfall? Someone’s targeting us.”

His calm tone belied the gravity of his words.

So-hee fumbled for her phone.

“Then we need to call the police… or heroes…”

“Forget it. Looks like a natural rockfall. Better to request association backup.”

He stepped out, leaning against the car with arms crossed.

“Though I doubt they’ll hold out till backup arrives.”

On the boulders, two figures stood silhouetted against the sun.

Their masks screamed “I’m a villain.”

Gloves covering fingerprints suggested they were registered villains.

Didn’t matter—they were criminals.

The two stared at Ho-cheol.

Their masked lips moved.

“That guy?”

“Not the target. Ignore him.”

A brief exchange, but a fatal slip for any organization member.

Surprisingly, Ho-cheol wasn’t their target—So-hee was.

Back in his villain days, he was always priority one, but lately, at the academy and now, he was sidelined.

Knowing he wasn’t the target gave him half the advantage.

As So-hee stepped out, the villains’ eyes gleamed.

“Something’s off,” she muttered, sensing their stares.

“Who are they?”

“Villains, obviously. And you’re their target.”

“What? Why?”

“No clue.”

He ran a hand through his hair, turning to her.

“If I hand you over, I could walk away safely, right?”

She grabbed his arm, panicked.

“You’re not ditching me, are you?”

“Why so serious? Can’t even tease you.”

Her intense reaction made him chuckle.

He faced the villains.

“Looks like you won’t get your pretty picture. Wanna leave quietly? Clear these rocks, and I won’t chase you.”

“No can do. She’ll be a sacrifice.”

A villain pointed at So-hee.

“For a just society.”

Ho-cheol’s brow furrowed tightly.

Despite their efforts to hide, that one phrase revealed their identity.

“Of all things…”

He rubbed his face.

He didn’t know who they were, but he knew their organization.

Lunatics.

That summed them up.

Supernatural Liberation Front.

A storied group of psychopaths active during his villain days.

[Traits are evolution’s product, divine selection. We’re superior to normals, destined to rule.]

A group genuinely believing that nonsense, hence calling traits and awakened “supernatural” or “superpowers.”

Even in his time, they clashed when territories overlapped.

Unlike other villains who fled from his organization, their fights showed their madness.

Back then, they were a relic, yet they still operated.

Truly long-lived.

He understood now: survival wasn’t strength; the long-lived were strong.

Why they were here was unclear, but he could guess why they targeted So-hee.

“Still haven’t kicked the kidnapping-for-profit habit.”

Targeting an association staffer like So-hee likely meant a trade—her safety for something else.

A tactic they used a decade ago.

They’d tried it on him once, sparking a bloodbath.

The memory stirred nostalgia, but that was it.

No questions or curiosity.

Silently rubbing his neck, he tapped the ground with his toe.

Then he vanished.

He reappeared between the villains, arms around their shoulders, tilting his head.

“No reaction? As expected, you’re underwhelming.”

No students to teach, no skill worth training against.

Time to wrap up quickly.

“What!”

A villain shrugged off his arm, swinging a fist.

Ho-cheol flicked his hand.

His backhand deflected the wrist, pulling the unbalanced arm to strike the other villain’s

shoulder.

“Gah—!”

“Damn!”

The second villain kicked, but Ho-cheol twisted, tripping the supporting leg.

As he fell, Ho-cheol grabbed his neck, driving a knee into his temple.

Crack—!

A sickening sound came from the head trapped between the knee and rock.

A blaze of red flames roared from behind.

One augmentation, one emission?

Better balanced than the last group.

Turning, he used the unconscious villain as a shield.

Also augmentation-type, he blocked the flames well.

Shaking off the fire, Ho-cheol hurled him.

Crack—!

The flame-throwing villain, unable to catch his ally, toppled backward.

Both rolled down the boulder, limp and twitching, out cold.

“Oh.”

Looking down, Ho-cheol scratched his head, chagrined.

“Should’ve had them clear this.”

It’d take all day otherwise.

* * *

The car sputtered into a corner of the association’s parking lot.

Three times.

That’s how many attacks—villains and riffraff—hit them after the first.

Four attacks in a day was a personal record for Ho-cheol.

Utterly absurd.

They’d picked deserted spots flawlessly.

Each attack came from different villain groups or small-time crooks.

Ambushing on detours, they struck unexpectedly, leaving even Ho-cheol unable to evade until the moment hit.

A two-hour trip stretched to six.

Stepping out, he stretched, joints creaking.

Every pause or nap triggered an attack.

The villains weren’t top-tier, just middling thugs, so no serious injuries.

Just piled-up stress and irritation.

The real issue was elsewhere.

He shook his head.

The car, pristine at the start, was now beyond salvage.

Tattered tires, crumpled bumper, perforated trunk, shattered lights—nothing was intact.

“Total wreck. Gotta scrap it.”

“Aaagh!”

So-hee tore at her hair, bouncing in place.

“This isn’t real!”

Tears of frustration welled up.

“My Bbi Bbi!”

“You named your car?”

“My first car! Not even a year old!”

Crouching, inspecting the tires, she muttered, voice dripping with grievance.

“Too weird. Even with rising villain activity, this many attacks? All targeting me!”

“You just now noticed?”

He pressed the crumpled trunk, testing it.

Can’t open this now.

Pop—

His finger punched a hole.

Flustered, he hid it with his body.

Keeping his cool, he continued.

“They set us up.”

“Set up?”

“That exec who summoned you, from the director’s rival faction. Who’s he?”

She stood, thinking.

“Not sure, different department. Longtime subordinate of another high-up, promoted for skill.

Rumors say he handles dirty work.”

“Obvious then.”

He said confidently,

“They’re screwing with us.”

“Screwing?”

“No way a guy doing dirty work lacks villain connections. Want someone gone? Use brokers to tag a target. Done.”

So-hee blinked slowly, not grasping.

“Rival to the director, wants this project canned. Can’t hit me directly, so they hit you. Kidnapping succeeds, you get hurt or die, or I snap and kill them or break output limits—any works.”

His off-campus approval was so sensitive that any rule breach meant re-incarceration, no excuses.

“Even if I hold back 99 times, one slip, they win.”

Pretty unfair, he thought.

“But it’s sloppy. Low-grade villains, screaming their backer’s name.”

He asked, skeptical?

“Does this exec know who I am?”

“No. Your identity’s so secret, maybe ten people in the association know. Not even all the execs.”

He raised a brow.

“But my talks are monitored by ops, right?”

“Filtered first by security for keywords, then sent to HQ.”

This conversation was likely being scrubbed too.

“What a hassle.”

“It’s classified.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

If they only knew filtered versions of his identity and actions, they’d pull this stunt.

Result?

“Another clueless extra butting in.”

* * *

“That’s my take.”

At the Hero Association’s Legal Department, on the 27th floor of a high-rise, Ho-cheol stood before a man in an office.

Slender, with thick horn-rimmed glasses, he seemed frail at a glance, but a cross-shaped scar on his cheek and tattooed forearms screamed otherwise.

Ho-cheol, arms crossed, waved a hand.

“So, what’s our exec’s verdict?”

“Overreach. Early-stage delusion, even.”

The exec, seated, replied instantly.

Leaning back in his chair, he exuded ease despite facing Ho-cheol alone.

His tone denied it firmly, but his smug grin boasted he’d orchestrated it all.

“Is that so?”

Ho-cheol gave a bitter smile, nodding.

“If you say so, what can I do?”

No proof.

Just circumstantial inference from relationships.

If he denied it, where was the evidence?

“Why’d you summon me, then?”

“Hm.”

The exec rubbed his chin with index and middle fingers.

After a pause, he smirked.

“None. I had one, but forgot.”

“Knew it. Call me when you remember?”

“Every time.”

He added sternly.

“Weekly, every four days, every two days. If needed, multiple times a day.”

“Power’s sweet. Bbi Bbi’s owner should climb the ladder too.”

A sneeze echoed from outside.

Ho-cheol laughed.

If the exec were a hero-driven zealot, raging about a villain evading justice, he’d be in a bind.

Wrong approach, but righteous intent would make killing or persuading him tricky.

Good thing he was trash.

“Whatever.”

Ho-cheol uncrossed his arms, pocketing his hand.

“You’re playing in a deeper, darker game than you think.”

He pulled out a phone.

“Too far. Harassing people on weekends, training them like dogs—way past a joke.”

He tapped away, continuing.

“I wasn’t that mad. You’re alive, proof enough. But…”

He pocketed the phone, done.

“The other two are about to work weekends? I can’t guarantee they won’t be mad.”

“What’s that pathetic threat? Think I’ll flinch at nonsense?”

“Who said threat? It’s a warning. The real threats are hitting others, not you.”

To an exec seeing him as a mere C-grade villain, his words were just flailing.

Laughable.

Ho-cheol genuinely pitied him.

“Your higher-ups didn’t rein you in, so they’re probably using you as a disposable pawn.”

He stepped toward the exec.

“Who’s to blame? Your lack of tact.”

The office’s back wall was half glass, offering a clear city view.

The open vista, overlooking tiny people from dozens of floors up, bred a sense of superiority.

“How long and hard you climbed to get here.”

He smirked, pulling his hand from the window.

“You’re blowing it in one go. A hunting dog should stay in its kennel, getting boiled chicken scraps. Overreach the master’s table, and this happens.”

The exec’s brow furrowed.

“Listened to your rant, and you’re the clueless one. Don't you know I can summon you tomorrow too?”

“That’ll be tough.”

Ring—!

The office phone blared as he spoke.

The exec grabbed it, staring at Ho-cheol.

Click—

“Yeah, what’s—”

[Hey!]

A thunderous shout cut him off, loud enough for Ho-cheol to hear clearly.

[Damn—crazy bastard—!]

The voice was shrill but recognizable.

Flustered, the exec pulled the receiver from his ear, sitting up.

“Director, sir. What’s—”

[What? What’s wrong?]

A torrent of unprintable curses followed, impressing even Ho-cheol.

Among villains, such profanity would earn at least B-grade for mouth alone.

Over 20 minutes, insults and scorn poured without forming sentences.

[I’m coming. Don’t move!]

The call ended without a reply.

The exec, stunned, couldn’t lower the receiver, staring between it and Ho-cheol.

“What the hell…”

Too intense for just messing with a C-grade villain.

He glared, trying to interrogate Ho-cheol’s trickery.

Bang—

The door burst open—no, its hinges tore, leaving it dangling.

Stepping over the wreckage, the president entered.

Ho-cheol smiled.

The exec, outraged at the uninvited guest, started to shout.

“Who the—huh?”

“How long since I last ran like this? Got a speeding ticket on the way. On a weekend, no less. My patience has limits, and this is too much.”

Striding in, the president glanced between Ho-cheol and the exec.

Ho-cheol shrugged.

The president’s gaze fixed on the exec.

“This mutt’s the one, I presume.”

“President, sir, this is uncalled for!”

“Uncalled for?”

He let out a stunned laugh.

“I’ve planned for years to use him, and a petty bureaucrat’s wrecking it? Greed got you bursting? No, you’re not. I’ll burst you myself.”

“‘Use’ me? Rude.”

Ignoring Ho-cheol’s grumble, the president strode to the exec, grabbing his collar.

Lifting him, the exec dangled.

“Wait, let’s talk!”

“Talk? Sure.”

Even aged, an S-grade hero’s strength was beyond a normal human.

“The soundproofing's poor here. Not ideal for a chat.”

With that, he dragged the exec out.

Ho-cheol waved lightly at the flailing man.

Probably the last he’d see of him.

The office quieted.

So-hee peeked in, asking softly.

“…What just happened?”

“Long story. But I avenged Bbi Bbi good.”

He checked his watch.

“Since we’re out, I want to see someone on the way back. That's okay?”

She hesitated, lips twitching.

“Thanks for avenging Bbi Bbi, but… contacting outsiders breaches rules. Tough call.”

“Rules apply to people, right?”

Confused but nodding, she said.

“Yeah. You said you wanted to see someone?”

He shrugged.

“No worries. They’re already dead.”

“Huh?”