Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 35: MT

Monday morning.

Ho-cheol’s class gathered not in their usual lecture room or education hall but on one of the academy’s sports fields.

Instead of uniforms, they wore casual clothes of their choice.

Today was a free-dress day.

Though the condition was “comfortable for activities,” it only heightened their excitement.

This wasn’t just any event—it was the MT.

For first-years, this time was usually the sports festival.

Without the recent villain attack, that would’ve been the case this year too.

In that sense, this MT was their first and last in academy life.

Their enthusiasm was natural.

Arriving right on time, Ho-cheol stood before the students.

“Everyone here?”

This week’s class leader, Ye-jin, turned to count.

Forty-two, including herself—no tardiness or absences.

“Yes.”

Despite her assurance, Ho-cheol double-checked each face, ensuring no oversight.

For regular lectures, he’d let latecomers or absentees slide, but today demanded certainty.

As he counted, the students chattered excitedly.

Knowing their anticipation, he didn’t call them out.

After confirming the count, he snapped his fingers.

“Focus.”

They finally quieted, turning to him.

“First, introductions.”

He nodded toward So-hee, standing beside him with hands clasped behind her back.

“Your MT companion, Han So-hee, one of the academy’s counselors. For personal issues outside academics, talk to her. She’s not bad, so it’s worth knowing her.”

So-hee unclasped her hands, waving.

“Hi, hi! Nice to meet you! And can’t you say ‘nice’ instead of ‘not bad’? What’s it hurt?”

“Another supervising professor will join us, but due to circumstances, you’ll meet them later.”

“You’re just ignoring me.”

The students showed little reaction.

Normally, assistant or associate professors accompanied MTs.

Given Ho-cheol’s villain background, a counselor like So-hee made sense instead.

That was the extent of their thoughts.

But some—Da-yeon’s clique—couldn’t hide their shock at So-hee’s appearance.

“That’s…”

“The woman from the café with the professor.”

“Girlfriend or something?”

Their tone was more curious than surprised.

But Da-yeon was different.

“No… way…”

The words slipped out between parted lips.

Not jealousy or inferiority—just envy.

The easy vibe and playful banter between Ho-cheol and So-hee was the ideal closeness she’d wanted with him.

That close, and he’d have kept tutoring me one-on-one, right?

The thought stung.

Luckily, or unluckily, the noisy crowd kept their talk from reaching Ho-cheol.

He turned from So-hee to the students.

“This MT isn’t like other departments’ or classes’—no mere socializing or relaxation. It’s a chance to experience situations hard to replicate in the academy, to build valuable skills and nourishment.”

His heavy words fell on deaf ears.

In a lecture, maybe they’d listen, but at an MT?

What’s he gonna do?

His outfit didn’t help—a gaudy resort-style t-shirt, loose shorts, even slippers.

No way to take him seriously.

“Let’s head out.”

In his words, students grabbed their bags—bulky backpacks or travel suitcases, excessive for a two-day trip, but understandable given their excitement.

Despite saying “head out,” Ho-cheol stood still.

No transport was visible.

Why’s he standing there?

As they wondered, students with auditory traits noticed first.

They looked up.

One by one, others followed, but saw nothing—just a bird overhead.

As time passed, the “bird” grew closer, revealing itself.

Whirrrrr—

The gate-deployment transport helicopter Ho-cheol requested descended with a roar and gusts.

Still high above, it kicked up sand and dust.

As it neared the ground, it slowed.

A door opened, and a staircase extended.

“I said this wouldn’t be some typical MT like other departments. Bus, train, plane? Laughable.”

He smirked, thumbing at the helicopter.

“Board by attendance number. We’re moving by military chopper.”

Everyone gasped in awe.

* * *

Inside the spacious helicopter, over forty people fit with room to spare.

Students settled into seats, buckling up.

So-hee, the odd one out, sat between Ye-jin and Da-yeon, the class leaders—not just for their roles but calculated.

Ho-cheol seemed close to So-hee.

Scoring points with her might earn a good word with him later.

Ho-cheol took the co-pilot seat.

A girl, barely pubescent-looking, sat in the pilot’s seat in flight gear—an odd sight.

The cockpit, built for adults, seemed mismatched. How would she reach the panels or gears?

Yet her teddy bear scurried below, working busily.

Is that controlling things or alive?

Se-ah, gripping the controls, spotted Ho-cheol and scowled.

“You bastard…”

She opened her mouth to unleash a tirade, but he tapped his wristwatch four times with his middle finger, silencing her.

Not urging haste—a signal of listening ears.

Clicking her tongue, she raised the gear and pulled the stick.

The propellers roared, lifting the chopper.

Thud-thud-thud—

The headset and mic kept their talk clear, but the watch’s mic couldn’t pick up anything over the engine and propeller noise.

Se-ah, glancing between the dashboard and Ho-cheol, said.

“No eavesdropping now, right?”

“Definitely.”

Her scowl deepened.

“Are you insane?”

“Watch your mouth. Keep it clean.”

“Who’s doing this because of who?”

Knew she’d curse.

“If I wasn’t in a key talk with VIPs then, you’d have gotten a hundred bear punches!”

“Bear punches? Your naming sense…”

The teddy bear, pressing pedals, turned to glare at him.

He met its gaze.

“Not here.”

As if understanding, it turned back to its task.

Is that really a puppet?

Feels alive.

Se-ah stomped, fuming.

“Get along with union members!”

“I’d love to, but he started it.”

“That’s why it’s ending lightly. I called you to find spies, and you caused a scene! Now you’re an outcast—how’ll you find them?”

“It’s fine. I’ve narrowed down suspects, so we start there.”

Her eyes widened, surprised.

“Already?”

Not just the deputy head.

Others who’d approached but backed off that night—he read their eyes and emotions easily.

Kang was the prime suspect, but others needed checking too.

As he listed names, Se-ah gripped the stick, incredulous.

“Not the deputy. He was a diligent hero, with a stellar record and top faculty evaluations.”

A carefully recruited union professor, he seemed decent in one-on-one talks.

Ho-cheol scoffed, shaking his head.

“Your and the president’s judgment is suspect.”

He brushed a hand over his face.

“His face screams traitor.”

She was floored.

A professor at a hero academy saying that?

“There’s a hero rule against judging by appearances. Know it.”

“Who’s judging by looks? It’s academic, calculated.”

“What academia?”

“Physiognomy.”

She was speechless.

Where to even start?

“Physiognomy’s the most superficial ‘study.’ It’s not science—it’s superstition.”

“Superstition? It’s a branch of statistics. Big data across history shows faces like his betray constantly. Surface checks won’t find dirt. Dig deep, with conviction.”

“If he’s not a spy?”

He grinned broadly.

“Bow, apologize, take a few hits.”

“Villain tactics, villain cleanup.”

“But the most effective.”

She couldn’t deny it.

Pouting, she tilted the stick.

* * *

Three hours later, they reached their destination.

Comparing the monitor to coordinates, Ho-cheol said curtly.

“Still the same.”

“Here?”

“Yup.”

Se-ah glanced at the monitor.

Thick fog obscured visibility, but this was a gate-op helicopter, seeing beyond human eyes.

Its cameras and radars showed only open sea, no island.

“Is this the right place? Nothing’s detected.”

He answered confidently.

“Lower the altitude.”

Skeptical but trusting his prediction, she eased the stick down.

Suddenly, the world changed.

The dark, night-like surroundings brightened, fog vanishing.

Seeing the island on the monitor, she gasped softly.

An island emerged from the vast sea.

“There’s really an island?”

“Told you. Gate phenomenon remnant. Let’s prepare.”

He unbuckled, standing.

“Hit the exact coordinates and hold. Any slip is trouble.”

“Easy.”

Se-ah eyed the dashboard, flipping switches.

Holding coordinates and hovering was this chopper’s specialty.

Ho-cheol moved to the back, eyeing the sprawled students.

Ten stared blankly, ten slept open-mouthed, the rest passed out from motion sickness.

Awakened got airsick too.

The first hour, they’d chattered excitedly about the MT.

But the chopper’s noise drowned them out, and they quieted.

No signal meant dead phones, and airsickness hit hard, knocking them out.

“Wake up.”

Only three or four stirred.

Sighing, he snapped his fingers.

Bang—!

A sharp shockwave echoed.

So-hee, drooling in the front row, jolted upright.

“What—what? We’re here?”

“Yup. And…”

He tapped his lips silently.

Blushing, she covered her mouth.

Others gradually roused.

“We’ve arrived.”

His low voice, normally drowned by chopper noise, cut through clearly.

“This is the island for our two-night, three-day MT.”

They turned, pressing faces to windows.

Minutes ago, fog cloaked everything, but now it was clear.

Gazing out, they gasped in unison.

From above, the island was breathtaking—emerald seas, gentle waves on white sands, a lush forest at its heart, and a towering mountain exuding grandeur.

A painting titled “paradise” wouldn’t feel overstated.

As they marveled, Ho-cheol asked?

“Like it?”

No reply—they were too captivated.

Not one found it lacking.

Some, impatient, snapped photos with phones.

The chopper’s descent made this the last chance for a full island shot.

It reached Ho-cheol’s coordinates in the forest.

He moved to the rear.

“Enough gawking. Focus.”

All eyes turned to him.

“Wanna get to the island quick, right?”

“Yes!”

Was that even a question?

The hyped students shouted.

“I get it. So…”

He reached back, ripping off a “hazard” cover, grabbing the emergency hatch lever, and pulling.

Clunk—Boom!

The rear hatch opened.

Stunned, they glanced between him and the open hatch.

The chopper’s level position was their only saving grace—otherwise, some would’ve tumbled out.

Why open it?

Before they could process, he pointed at the hatch.

“Get down. Volunteers first. No volunteers, we go by attendance.”

Fifty meters up.

Bare ground might hurt, but a wide lake below meant bruises at worst for awakened.

A vital hero skill.

He’d been floored to learn the academy’s curriculum and skipped such landing training.

“…What?”

A dazed voice prompted a sigh.

“Didn’t hear?”

No, they heard—couldn’t believe.

Betraying their hopes, he repeated.

“Get down.”

His expression was too firm to question as a joke.

To the frozen students, he drove the point home.

“Right now.”