Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 50: Guests

The next day, I woke up and checked the time on my wristwatch.

Three hours.

Twice as much sleep as yesterday.

After nearly a week of the same horrific nightmare, I’d grown numb to it.

Not a good sign—it meant I was starting to lose it mentally.

Getting out of bed, I stretched lightly and sat at my desk.

With the midterm looming, I had to prepare as the exam setter.

Villains were one thing; the exam was another.

Of course, with villains potentially attacking the academy and students at any moment, no one would blame me for recycling last year’s test. But I had no intention of half-assing it.

Twirling the pen in my hand, I brainstormed questions.

Listing inconveniences without So-hee could fill dozens, but there was one upside.

Normally, she’d chatter about helping, disrupting my focus.

Now, I could zero in on the task at hand.

My concentration was at least twice as sharp, and my efficiency matched.

Finishing my thoughts, I gripped the pen.

“Ten questions should do it.”

I wanted to throw one brutally tough question at them and call it a day, but a memo had come

down, as if they’d anticipated it.

Who knew there was a standard midterm format?

I couldn’t ignore the memo outright, so I had to include some basic theory questions.

When I started teaching, I was clueless about theory, but not anymore.

Over the past two months, I’d studied concepts, theories, and papers in case they’d be useful for lectures, reaching a near-expert level in my field.

I wrote the first question immediately.

* * *

Hours into crafting exam questions, a grating noise came from outside.

Vrrrr—

Not brief, but continuous, it made me frown and set down my pen.

Thud-thud-thud—

The noise wasn’t the only issue; the ground trembled as if a tank were passing by.

Standing, I opened the window to check.

Several excavators and large trucks were passing my lodging.

What kind of nuisance was this in broad daylight?

But seeing the scene, my irritation faded instantly, replaced by a faint smile.

This construction was exactly what I’d intended and expected.

The dean had clearly understood my message.

Workers dismounted from trucks at their destination, and yellow caution tape was strung up around them.

Excavators tore into the ground, and workers moved busily.

It wasn’t just in front of my lodging.

Unbeknownst to me, similar construction was happening across the academy’s vast grounds.

The projects varied—septic tank installations, cable laying, landscaping, fiber optic repairs.

They shared one thing: they were at the spots where I’d paused during my walk yesterday.

To academy insiders, the sudden projects without context were baffling, but I knew their true purpose.

Under the association’s surveillance, my movements were tracked in real-time, shared with both the association and the academy.

The dean had quickly grasped my intent and acted.

This wasn’t mere construction.

It was a trap.

The projects were a smokescreen to dig and conceal traps.

The academy’s vast grounds made perfect defense impossible.

With a large area and many students to protect, even I or the dean couldn’t handle a widespread attack with hordes of lowlife villains.

It was the trickiest kind of assault for me, hence the traps.

Pre-set traps would narrow the villains’ attack routes, clarifying the areas we needed to defend.

Of course…

Leaning my elbow on the windowsill, propping my chin, I laughed in disbelief.

“What a scale.”

I’d thought it’d be lucky if half of the 30-plus points I’d marked got traps.

But judging by the trucks and excavators, it wasn’t just a few spots—every single point was being rigged.

For an institution like the academy, launching such large-scale construction typically required a tedious process: planning, feasibility studies, proposals, contractor selection, design, and permits.

Skipping all that would deal a political blow to the dean, but—

“Who cares?”

That was his mindset now.

Student safety mattered, but this wasn’t about that.

He was ready to overlook any cost to pay back the villains for the trouble they’d caused.

“Well, it works for me.”

I closed the window and sat back at my desk.

The drills and excavators tearing up the ground sounded like the dean’s furious roar.

I almost pitied the villains who’d attack next.

* * *

Friday arrived.

Sighing deeply, I set down my pen, smiling with satisfaction at the exam paper.

Scribbled with questions 1 through 10, it was the fruit of three days of wracking my brain.

Though a written exam, it demanded practical experience, reflection, and review of lectures and real-world encounters.

The difficulty and discrimination were well-balanced.

Memorizing textbooks wouldn’t earn a high score.

A truly satisfying result.

I lifted the paper with both hands.

The sense of accomplishment was immense, but I wouldn’t do it again if asked.

I’d fought the urge to quit multiple times, but thinking of the students squirming over these questions kept me going.

Folding the paper neatly, I tucked it into a drawer and massaged my stiff neck.

“Maybe I’ll rest today.”

It was Friday, after all.

Da-yeon and some students had started a club.

I wasn’t too interested, but since it was their first meeting, I figured I’d pop by.

Stepping outside, the academy was unusually quiet.

Curious, I asked a passing staff member, who gave a surprising answer.

The construction across the academy had finished, and starting tonight, major gas, electricity, and telecom inspections were scheduled.

As a result, the cafeteria, convenience store, and other facilities were closed.

Except for essential services, everything shut down, and even student dorms lost hot water and internet.

Unless they wanted a caveman experience, students left for home or applied for off-campus stays after classes.

I didn’t buy it for a second.

“The old man’s serious.”

The dean’s intent was obvious.

I’d predicted a villain attack within the week.

Since the location was set, the best move was to minimize the number of students and civilians at risk.

It was welcome news for me.

I bought snacks at a nearby mart and headed to the clubroom.

Five people—should be enough.

Their clubroom was in the same building and floor as my office, so I found it without trouble.

The door was slightly ajar, so I opened it casually and stepped inside.

I froze after one step. Not just from shock—there was literally no room to move.

The club, meant for five, was…

I scratched the back of my head.

“What the hell is this?”

Over 40 people packed the room, shoulder to shoulder.

My students, some auditors from Monday, and even complete strangers were there.

Spotting me, they widened their eyes and bowed.

After a long pause, I spoke.

“Is this the wrong place?”

“No! It’s the right place!”

Ye-jin’s face popped out from the crowd.

I looked around again and asked?

“What’s going on here?”

Ye-jin, looking more troubled than me, scratched her head.

“When we started the club, we didn’t set any strict membership rules. We just put up a few

recruitment posters and planned to take whoever showed up…”

Her voice trailed off, as if she couldn’t believe it herself.

I didn’t need to hear the rest.

They hadn’t expected this much popularity.

Neither had I.

“Geez.”

Clicking my tongue, I handed her the bag.

She took it readily.

“Bought plenty, but that was for five people.”

Seeing the snacks, she looked puzzled.

“For us?”

“What, do you think I brought them to show off? Share them wisely.”

How am I supposed to share this…

Muttering, she stepped back as I moved deeper into the room.

In the far corner, Da-yeon sat alone at a desk, flipping through a thick stack of papers.

“What’re you doing?”

Hearing my voice, she slowly looked up.

Her eyes were lifeless, like a corpse’s.

“I-I…”

Her lips trembled.

“I didn’t expect it to get this big.”

Why had she started this club?

To replace my private tutoring, which had ended.

Meant for a small group to hog my attention, she hadn’t anticipated this crowd.

Her personality made her shy away from standing out.

Even the class leader role was taken to score points with me.

Being club president was overwhelming.

“So, what’s that?”

“Membership applications.”

I glanced around.

“There’s a lot of people, but not that many papers.”

There were about 40 people here, but the stack looked like over 100 sheets.

“Some students are still in class…”

Even filtering half would leave 50. This tiny room would be suffocating.

She looked at me with hopeful eyes.

“…Can you help?”

It wasn’t just paperwork—she meant interviews too.

Skipping that would spark complaints, risking the club’s survival.

I was dumbfounded and shook my head.

“Nope.”

I’d help with anything beneficial to students, but this was just tedious.

The best move?

“You’re already swamped. Me sticking around will only make it chaotic.”

Escape.

Waving lightly, I said.

“I’m out.”

Her glum face turned to despair.

“At least help with interviews…”

Ignoring her plea, I turned to leave.

I escaped the clubroom.

Or tried to.

Boom—

A loud noise shook the building slightly.

“Another construction?”

“They said it was done. Maybe one’s unfinished?”

“Probably.”

The students murmured, unfazed.

They’d seen this all week—this tremor was mild.

But my expression was more serious than ever.

This wasn’t a simple earthquake or construction tremor.

Rumble—

The ground shook again, stronger and clearer, rattling the entire building.

Students let out small screams at the near-earthquake phenomenon.

“What’s that? Too intense!”

“Where’s the construction even happening?”

Their murmurs faded as their phones buzzed simultaneously.

The messages had no text, but the flashing red screens signaled this wasn’t normal.

I opened the window.

Boom—!

In the distance, a third roar accompanied a pillar of light shooting into the sky.