Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 34: Union (2)

Ho-cheol fired off several questions.

The union’s roster, the number of influential members, the detailed breakdown of union members by department, internal factions, and the general atmosphere.

Questions an outsider wouldn’t easily know, and the deputy head, Kang Dae-soo, quickly grasped why Ho-cheol asked.

“The union splits into full and associate members. The key difference is the level of responsibility and rights…”

Thus, he answered without suspicion.

“And there are subtle factions within. Naturally…”

Kang set his drink on the windowsill, diving into his explanation.

“And our augmentation department leans toward neutrality, so these professors…”

But Ho-cheol, who’d asked, barely listened.

The information wasn’t particularly interesting or necessary.

The act of asking was what mattered.

After unloading a slew of details, Kang picked up his glass again.

Glancing around, he lowered his voice cautiously.

“By the way, your moves weren’t ordinary.”

As expected.

Ho-cheol smirked inwardly at the predictable reaction.

“Even if our assistant professor isn’t hero-trained, he’s got some skill.”

If Kang was a union mole, he’d have a mountain of questions about Ho-cheol.

With most details classified, even trivial info was valuable.

But despite his greed, a mole selling academy secrets would be cautious and covert.

Approaching too eagerly would raise suspicion—not the best move, and Kang would know it.

His initial chitchat was meant to lower Ho-cheol’s guard.

If Ho-cheol offered info first, it’d backfire for the same reason.

So he’d set up this dynamic, giving Kang a pretext.

By asking first, he made it safe for Kang to ask minor questions in return.

Indeed, Kang seemed more at ease after sharing.

“To overpower him so easily and crush his arm—what’s your trait?”

As deputy head of augmentation, Kang still knew little about Ho-cheol.

Faculty records listed only a basic strength-augmentation trait.

Unknown even to colleagues, Ho-cheol’s info was gold.

Ho-cheol drained his glass silently.

“Nothing special. Just a conditional augmentation trait.”

He curled his hand into a fist.

Crunch—

“Compression. Not manipulation, but compression within augmentation.”

His open hand now held a tiny glass bead instead of the glass.

A lie, of course.

He’d crushed the assistant professor’s arm to sell this fake trait.

Unless info leaked elsewhere, no one would suspect.

He glanced at his watch.

Neither the academy nor the association was fully trustworthy.

“Huh.”

Unaware, Kang marveled at the bead.

That trait explained Ho-cheol’s C-grade-defying strength.

Even weak traits surged in power when conditions were met.

It matched his combat style during the villain attack.

“Tricky, but potent when mastered. Any more questions?”

“Since I shared, go ahead.”

“Well, then…”

Kang’s questions seemed personal, the kind a boss should know—embarrassing to call classified.

But they were tightly controlled, their value significant.

Ho-cheol answered thoroughly, sincerely.

All lies—fake traits, fake weaknesses, woven with truth to blur distinction.

After several satisfying answers, Kang paused, as if realizing.

“Did I pry too much?”

“It’s fine. Everyone who needs to know does.”

“Oh, really?”

In that moment, Ho-cheol caught a flicker of irritation and regret beneath Kang’s calm facade.

The reason was simple.

Information’s value dropped as more knew it.

A once-pricey secret could become worthless, which annoys Kang.

“Still, don’t spread it around.”

Kang’s eyes widened, then he nodded firmly, thumping his chest.

“Don’t worry! My lips are so tight, they’d sink first in water!”

Too natural for acting.

A normal person or hero would buy it, but to Ho-cheol, a villain with a twisted lens, it was deeply suspicious.

After more meaningless back-and-forth, Kang left, promising to scold the assistant professor.

Ho-cheol didn’t buy it. He’d likely rush to sell the fresh info before it spoiled.

If Kang was the mole, this was perishable goods needing urgent disposal.

The bait was bitten, but was it a big catch?

Time would tell.

* * *

The next day, Da-yeon’s biweekly private archery lesson.

Watching her form, Ho-cheol said dryly,.

“Let’s wrap up these sessions this week.”

“…What?”

Mid-draw, she turned.

Twang—

The arrow weakly hit the ground.

“No more sweaty weekend meetups.”

She nearly dropped her bow. His words were a shock.

“I-I don’t understand…”

He sat on a nearby bench, unfazed.

“I’ve got nothing left to teach you. I spent thirty minutes today just watching—no corrections needed. Your basics are perfect.”

Her cheeks flushed faintly.

Used to curt “decent” or “not bad” remarks, such high praise was overwhelming.

But joy faded as she mumbled,

“But… I’m still lacking…”

“Of course. But your basics are more than solid. We started to build those. I taught well, but you learned better. Be proud.”

She couldn’t take praise as praise.

The situation was maddening.

She dropped her bow, too rattled to pick it up.

He patted the bench beside him.

“Take a break.”

She scurried over, sitting so close their shoulders nearly touched, her white hair brushing his face.

Oblivious to her proximity, she was desperate for an excuse to continue lessons.

Did I try too hard?

No—if she’d held back, he’d have called it out, ending lessons sooner.

Her choice was right.

As if sorting her jumbled thoughts, he spoke first.

“Nice weather.”

“Yeah…”

She replied belatedly.

“Eat lunch?”

“Not yet.”

“Eating before exercise just cramps you up.”

“You?”

“Haven’t either. Skipping cafeteria—eggplant side dish.”

“Eggplant’s tasty.”

“Crazy taste.”

He steered to light topics.

His unusual questions made her realize: no amount of pleading would extend lessons.

This was his kindness, letting her say what she wanted before it ended.

“I, um…”

Mumbling, she bowed her head.

Getting a chance didn’t mean seizing it.

Keeping him as a private tutor was impossible; even these biweekly lessons lacked justification.

A month of learning left her melancholic.

Reading her mood, he rubbed his brow with a hooked finger.

“I never said it, but I planned to focus on maybe five students in this class.”

“What?”

“Though focusing on a talented few would yield better results. Still do.”

Am I one of them?

The question lingered, but fear of a “no” stopped her.

“Everyone worked harder than expected.”

He dropped his hand, smiling lightly.

“Talent or effort aside, their drive impressed me. Or maybe I didn’t want to judge them on just

talent.”

I’m getting old.

He muttered.

“So I changed my mind. I’ll avoid private lessons.”

“…Why?”

“Motivation, drive, emotions.”

A problem for passionate students.

“Few can separate those. If this got out, it’d affect others’ motivation. I thought special attention for top students would suffice, but now I want to guide everyone, so it’s tough.”

Still confused, she looked at him.

He added.

“Think about it. A professor you see once a week in class is privately training another student on weekends. How’d you feel finding out?”

She closed her eyes, imagining.

A special lesson from Ho-cheol, unknown to her.

The beneficiary?

Ye-jin.

Not her—Ye-jin, coached closely by Ho-cheol.

Her face flushed red, hands trembling on her thighs.

Rage and jealousy nearly burst her head. She’d flip everything, maybe use family influence.

Seeing her, he chuckled.

Her raw reaction needed no convincing.

“Get it?”

“Yes.”

She nodded.

Less gloom, more regret.

If it was to spare others this feeling, she had no argument.

She knew this was partly favoritism.

No words could sway him.

“If you hit a wall later, ask. I’ll give pointers.”

“Okay…”

Nodding was all she could do.

If it wasn’t happening, better to end cleanly than cling pathetically.

Some time passed.

He stood.

“I’m off. Keep at it. You’ll do fine.”

She stood, bowing.

“Thank you for everything.”

Her excessive politeness drew a wry smile.

“We’ll see each other in two days. Why so formal, like it’s forever?”

But she kept her bow.

Despite his awkward expression, he felt oddly satisfied.

Patting her shoulder, he said.

“You worked hard. See you in two days.”

He left. Rising, she stared at his retreating figure.

His reasons left no room for appeal or sentiment.

But they had a gap.

She opened her bag, pulling out a crumpled paper.

[Club Recruitment/Creation Notice]

She wanted to monopolize him but craved more learning time even more.

If exclusivity was the issue, sharing with others solved it.

The excuse, method, and prep were ready.

The paper crumpled in her grip.

Giving up was for counting cabbages.