NOVEL NEXT Ch. 32
Chapter 32: MT Preparation
Ho-cheol collapsed onto a nearby sofa, covering his eyes with the back of his hand.
He’d assumed the president would handle procedural issues, but instead, the president launched into a lecture, preaching principles.
Ho-cheol had bent rules multiple times, but those were special cases involving student or civilian lives, grudgingly permitted.
At his core, the president was a rigid stickler for rules.
No chance he’d bend for Ho-cheol’s convenience.
After nearly ten minutes of scolding, the president sat back down, looking more refreshed than Ho-cheol had ever seen since arriving at the academy.
“Hah. That was stress-relieving.”
“Pretty lousy reason.”
Ignoring Ho-cheol’s protest, the president tapped the MT plan with his fingertips.
Plenty of issues remained.
“That’s not all. Six hours of sleep over two days? With hourly schedules crammed in? This isn’t an MT—it’s a torture itinerary.”
Ho-cheol raised a finger, wagging it side to side.
It wasn’t about tormenting students—every detail was for training.
“Do heroes pick sleep times? When they’re exhausted, half-fainting, how well can they perform at their peak? That’s a core skill.”
“Tch.”
The president clicked his tongue.
Ho-cheol’s point wasn’t wrong.
It was harsh for students, but in the pro world, days without sleep were common.
“Not incorrect, but…”
Being right didn’t mean acceptance.
“What’s so infuriating?”
The issue was the speaker—a former villain who’d drastically cut heroes’ sleep.
Glancing between the plan and Ho-cheol, the president clicked his tongue again.
“And requesting a military gate transport plane? Another insane idea.”
“Not that insane. Not a tough ask. They use them for training sometimes.”
Groaning, Ho-cheol sat up on the sofa.
“That island’s surrounded by tricky currents and reefs. Regular ships can’t approach—nowhere to dock. I considered flipping a boat nearby and making them swim in for practice, but that’d be actually dangerous.”
Actually, being dangerous meant potential deaths.
His risks had to be fully controlled.
No ships, then.
The president rubbed his forehead.
“Regular plane?”
“No runway maintenance for over a decade—probably impossible. Vertical takeoff helicopters are the best bet.”
“Why a gate-specific one? Can you even pilot it?”
“Drove one before.”
“Anything you can’t do? Got a license?”
Ho-cheol didn’t answer, just shrugged.
“Lunatic.”
Sighing, the president dragged a hand down his face.
“And this island—what is it?”
He’d investigated the plan’s island—it didn’t exist.
Not on the internet, hero networks, or satellite imagery.
An island unknown in this era was shocking, and Ho-cheol’s personal knowledge of it was baffling.
Knowing it was practically owning it.
Ho-cheol answered casually.
“One of my assets. Special gate phenomena keep it off satellites and GPS. Finding and converting it into a base was hell.”
“Base?”
“With S-grades hunting me, you think I wouldn’t have a hideout?”
“But your assets were seized with massive fines…”
“They took everything legal—left me penniless there. This is just…”
Choosing his words, he snapped his fingers.
“Loose change.”
The president shook his head, incredulous.
An island as loose change?
Buying the Peacemaker outright, hidden wealth—his fortune was unimaginable.
Yet reports said Ho-cheol lived frugally, almost miserly, making it ironic.
“Back to business. I can’t entrust students to you without medical or pilot licenses. We’ll need someone else for medical and transport.”
“Who?”
“Wait and see.”
The president turned to his computer, typing rapidly.
“Hiring outsiders is risky. Ideally, someone in the academy meets all criteria—free during the MT, with emergency medical certification and military helicopter piloting skills…”
Stopping, he grabbed his phone.
“Found one. I’ll call.”
“No army here—someone like that’s at the academy?”
“Plus, their personal combat’s near A-grade. Highly capable. They can clean up your messes.”
“More than just capable.”
Muttering skeptically, Ho-cheol stood.
“Skipped lunch, I’m starving. Got food?”
“Snack jar in the cabinet for guests. Don’t touch the left cookies—they’re expensive. I said don’t touch it!”
While raiding the snacks, a knock came.
Knock, knock, knock—
Polite, unremarkable.
“Come in.”
Ho-cheol nearly spat his water seeing who entered.
“Yes, President. A sudden call at this hour—what’s the matter…”
The union chair, Seong Se-ah, froze mid-step, spotting Ho-cheol.
Their faces twisted simultaneously.
Her teddy bear’s glare at Ho-cheol was fierce, as if recalling their enmity.
Se-ah scanned him up and down, speaking curtly.
“What’s this?”
“Ugh, no one else?”
“You think her caliber’s easy to find? Stop whining.”
The president pointed to the empty sofa opposite Ho-cheol.
“Sorry for the sudden call, but sit.”
“Yes.”
Se-ah sat promptly, setting her teddy bear carefully beside her, her earlier scowl gone.
Ho-cheol found her compliance absurd.
Last time, she openly clashed with the president yet showed respect.
Now, she was downright deferential.
She’d claimed it was just a difference in stance, but he’d expected tension.
After a pause, he asked the president?
“You two aren’t as bad as I thought?”
“No reason to be. We clash over the education hall, but she’s an excellent academy professor.”
“Your praise is too kind. You’re a hero I respect above all.”
“Not an educator, though.”
Se-ah gave a wry smile, shifting topics.
“My educational views make that tough… So, why the call?”
“This’ll take a bit. Coffee? Tea?”
“Hot coffee, please.”
The president deftly brewed coffee at a side table.
Ho-cheol called out.
“Iced coffee for me.”
He brought only one hot coffee.
The president explained the summons.
Se-ah, blowing on her coffee, asked curiously,
“Why me?”
“Only three at the academy meet both criteria, and you’re the only professor without a class.”
“If I refuse…”
He glanced at Ho-cheol, frowning.
Even Ho-cheol couldn’t earn those licenses in days.
The issue wasn’t critical enough to break principles.
“He’ll rewrite the MT plan. If he can’t, we’ll tag him onto another department’s MT.”
“Then refusing pure profit. Let’s see…”
Holding her coffee, she grabbed the plan.
Reading briefly, she scowled, glaring at Ho-cheol.
“You sane? This is an MT plan?”
“It’s well-thought-out. Read it. I’ve heard enough nagging from that old man.”
Pouting, she resumed reading.
After a while, her eyes widened in shock.
Initially, she planned to nitpick and refuse.
But the deeper she read, the less that mattered.
Setting down her coffee, she gripped the plan with both hands, engrossed.
Unlike the president’s focus on risks and harshness, she saw its efficacy.
Not just brutal—it balanced training needs, effects, and risk mitigation.
Ho-cheol’s care was evident.
Sighing, she set it down.
Had she not known Ho-cheol wrote it, she’d have praised it first.
Seeing his face killed that urge.
Unable to hide her displeasure, she pursed her lips and swung her legs.
As an educator, she couldn’t reject a beneficial plan over personal grudges.
But fully endorsing it hurt her pride, and she wanted to contribute, since it impressed her…
After deliberating, she stood, hands on hips, and declared,
“No way. It’s completely broken. Trying to kill the students?”
She grabbed a pen, slashing lines through sections.
“Here, here, and this—fix it!”
Glancing aside coyly, she added.
“Then it might be passable.”
* * *
Under the president and Se-ah’s barrage, Ho-cheol raised the white flag.
They dissected the plan line by line—too harsh, too dangerous, too unsanitary.
No matter how thick-skinned he was, he couldn’t withstand it.
He revised several hellish curricula.
To him, they were lukewarm, unsatisfying, but their firm refusal left no choice.
Tents for lodging.
Portable toilets.
Basic meals and sleep ensured.
After seven revisions, he sighed, grumbling at the final plan.
“Not training—camping.”
“It’s an MT, not boot camp. Give the kids a breather.”
Se-ah, now beside him, poked his side.
“Didn’t you party and drink at your MT? Let them relax. Why so intense?”
“Never went, wouldn’t know.”
The mood chilled.
His curt reply belied a sad expression.
Hesitating, Se-ah placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Uh, sorry. I never went either.”
Her teddy bear patted his thigh, as if consoling.
* * *
Leaving the president’s office, they descended the stairs in silence.
Se-ah broke it abruptly.
“Free this Friday evening?”
Baffled by the out-of-context question, Ho-cheol scratched his head, answering cautiously.
“I know emotions aren’t easily sorted, but after more thought and connection…”
Earnestly raising a finger, his serious reply made Se-ah blink, confused.
Realizing his meaning, she flushed, shouting,
“Not that!”
“Thought my epic MT plan moved you to ask me out.”
“It’s not! Where…”
Muttering, she shoved a hand into her teddy bear’s back.
That bear’s got tricks.
“With the president there, I held back, but…”
She pulled out a gold-embossed envelope—an elegant invitation radiating care.
“Friday, 7 p.m., Union Night event. You’re a union professor, so you’re qualified.”
“Annual thing?”
“Regular union recruitment ended last week. It’s for new members to bond and strengthen ties.
All existing members attend.”
She waved the invitation between her fingers.
“Not mandatory. Some professors dislike you, so skip if you want.”
But she knew he wouldn’t miss it.
Before she finished, he’d snatched the invitation.
Checking the time and place, he noted a dress code for a mere union event.
“Everyone’s going?”
“Yup.”
He tapped his lips with the invitation.
Though lower priority, rooting out academy moles leaking to the organization was ongoing.
Beyond intel leaks, removing such tumors would ease future academy life.
He, the president, and Se-ah wanted it resolved fast.
But agreeing outright looked weak.
After a pause, he asked?
“Food provided?”
“Catered buffet.”
“Gotta go.”
Can’t resist!