I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!

The Vice Dean's coughing echoed faintly through the communication orb, a lingering reminder of the reprimand he had endured. Thankfully, he wasn't gravely injured, as the Dean, while furious, had held back enough to spare his physical well-being.

Yet, even as he steadied himself, his mind lingered on the Duke's words—the mention of a student named Adlet.

The Dean, an Ascended and the most powerful figure in the Academy, rarely troubled herself with the daily operations or the complexities of student management.

Her unparalleled strength was reserved for the ultimate protection of the Academy itself, ensuring its sanctity from external threats.

This left the Vice Dean to shoulder the overwhelming burden of administrative work and student affairs—a role meant to be temporary but one that had become a long-standing obligation.

Originally intended as a backup to act only in the Dean's absence, the Vice Dean had effectively become the Academy's manager, a responsibility thrust upon him by none other than the Dean herself.

Though overburdened, he diligently fulfilled his tasks, juggling paperwork, decisions, and the daily chaos of the Academy.

Yet now, with the Southern Duke personally mentioning a freshman—a situation entirely outside the norm—the Vice Dean felt the weight of yet another unexpected challenge pressing down on his already strained position.

The Vice Dean, with an air of efficiency despite his earlier reprimand, retrieved the registry of new students from his storage ring. His eyes scanned the list with impressive speed, a testament to his Ranker-level reflexes and precision.

"Adlet, Adlet... Yes! Here it is," he announced. "The student was in the Aether Class, but he didn't appear. As a result, his current status is marked as expelled. He is no longer a student of the Academy."

The Dean, visibly perplexed, furrowed her brow. "What's the title?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. It was unfathomable to her that anyone, especially a commoner, would squander the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to attend the Academy and that also in Aether Class.

"There is no such title listed here," the Vice Dean responded, his tone slightly cautious as he noticed the growing interest of the Dean. "Let me check in the Admission Form."

Without further delay, he reached into a nearby cabinet, a motion so swift it was almost a blur, and extracted a meticulously arranged set of Admission Forms.

In moments, the Vice Dean held Adlet's Admission Form in his hands. His speed and focus underscored his relentless dedication to his responsibilities, even if those responsibilities were often imposed upon him against his will.

"This Adlet did bear the name of the Cindergarde Duchy; however, it states that he had been exiled—or more accurately, 'self-exiled.' Based on the form, it appears he barely managed to qualify for the Aether Class on theoretical knowledge alone, while his practical knowledge is significantly below average,"

The Vice Dean's conclusion was succinct and pointed as he reviewed Adlet's details on the Admission Form.

"In short, a problematic child," the Dean stated. She turned her attention back to the communication orb and added, "The child is already declared expelled from the Academy. The Academy would not be responsible for any act committed by him."

The Dean, unsettled by the Southern Duke's unexpected call, found herself piecing together the situation with caution. Adlet's mere presence at the Duke's estate carried implications she couldn't ignore.

Surely, she thought, this freshman must have committed some insolent act under the Academy's name to warrant the Duke's direct intervention—a rarity in itself.

Her responsibility as Dean demanded vigilance, and her instincts leaned toward minimizing potential fallout before the matter spiraled further out of her control.

With Adlet's background freshly conveyed by the Vice Dean, the Dean's judgment crystallized. The child seemed like trouble waiting to happen. A noble voluntarily taking self-exile was unusual—a decision ripe for speculation and steeped in intrigue.

However, it was no time for curiosity or speculations. The Dean, who rarely meddled in student matters, couldn't overlook the gravity of this situation where the Southern Duke himself called her to discuss some student.

After all, the Southern Duke was a figure whose influence even the Academy couldn't afford to challenge.

To maintain a neutral stance while sidestepping the risk, the Dean resolved to act decisively. Throwing this problematic child under the rug, for now, seemed the safest course of action.

The Academy would disown responsibility for his actions, leaving the matter strictly between Adlet and the Southern Duke.

The Duke had somewhat expected the Dean to act like that since he knew her personality. He said "That problematic child had just departed from my residence and he would be reaching the Warp Portal soon. I would like you to open the Warp Portal of the Academy and take the child back into the Academy."

"…"

"…"

His statement was met with a stunned silence from the other side of the communication orb. Both the Dean and the Vice Dean found themselves at a loss for words, as the Duke's request was entirely contrary to the expectations they had built in their minds.

It was not an accusation or an attempt to discard the troublesome Adlet but, rather, an insistence on reintegrating the expelled student into the Academy—a course of action neither of them had anticipated.

Even thought the words of Duke were surprising, "Not Possible!" The Dean's immediate reply, firm and resolute, carried the weight of her authority.

However, the Duke's commanding tone didn't falter. "Then Make It Possible, Dean," he demanded, his words cutting through her objections like a blade.

The Dean, unmoved by his demand, countered with practicality. "Duke, we cannot change the rules of the Academy for a single student."

"What is there to change?" the Duke countered "Just simply write him off as a student who got late and take him in."

The Dean didn't relent, her knowledge of the Academy's operational framework bolstering her stance. "Duke, it seems you are forgetting, but there are records maintained in the Academy," she stated firmly, emphasizing the importance of procedure and documentation.

The Duke, however, was unimpressed by the bureaucratic reasoning. "Who cares about those reports when you have the final say at the Academy?"

The tension in the conversation reached its peak as the Duke's commanding tone clashed against the unyielding stance of the Dean. Despite her confusion over why the Duke was so insistent on reintegrating Adlet, she stood her ground.

"Duke, no matter what you say, it is not possible to take in a student who has already been declared expelled. That student can try again next year," she stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for compromise.

The Duke's voice dropped to a threatening note, "So, you won't take him in?"

"No, I can't," replied the Dean with finality.

The Duke, hearing her refusal, delivered his own declaration with sharp precision. "From this moment on, I declare my previous agreement with Academy as void. The Southern Duchy will no longer act as a—"

"Wait! Wait! Sir Duke, please wait!" came the urgent, pleading voice of the Vice Dean, cutting in before the Dean could react. His desperate interjection carried both fear and pragmatism, as he fully understood the gravity of the situation.

The Agreement between the Southern Duke and the Academy was shrouded in secrecy, known only to three individuals: the Dean, the Vice Dean, and the Duke himself.

It was a delicate balance of cooperation and discretion, a bond critical to the Academy's inner workings and one that extended far beyond the eyes of the students and faculty.

Yet now, unexpectedly, Ashok was privy to this clandestine arrangement—which was the very reason why he visited the Southern Duke instead of the Imperial Palace.

Within the game, the Academy served as the starting hub of the player's adventure, a launching point into a world teeming with possibilities.

As the plot unfolded, players were encouraged to complete various quests tied to the Academy, unlocking avenues to explore other factions and cultivate alliances. The factions were pivotal to the game's overarching story, each harboring its unique lore and challenges.

However, among the many pathways a player could pursue, the Southern Duke's faction stood apart—both elusive and enigmatic.

The quests leading to the Southern Duke's involvement were cleverly concealed, a masterclass in subtle design. Unlike the typical tasks that rewarded players with useful items or clear advantages, these quests appeared mundane and even tedious.

They revolved around logistics, requiring players to collect supplies from the Merchant Guilds and deliver them to the Academy. These repetitive errands offered little in the way of immediate gratification; at most, they granted a modest increase in affinity points with merchants.

To the average player, the quests seemed pointless—a waste of precious time in a game that thrived on efficiency.

But Ashok was not the average player. His approach to the game was marked by persistence and an unrelenting curiosity. Where others saw monotony, he saw opportunity.

Undeterred by the lack of obvious rewards, Ashok meticulously completed each of these seemingly trivial missions. His dogged determination paid off when he unearthed the hidden truth behind the Merchant Guild: the Southern Duke was the Academy's true supplier, operating behind the scenes with precision and purpose.

The Academy stood as an unparalleled beacon of neutrality and excellence, its founding principles rooted in nurturing talent. It was detached from the term Profit, refusing to charge fees even to its own students.

Instead, it offered the finest teaching facilities in the entire world, a reputation that made gaining admission an incredibly challenging feat—reserved only for the most gifted and determined individuals.

However, even such a noble establishment could not function without one thing: Money.