Academy’s Villain Professor

Chapter 78: The Organization (2)

In empty air, black mist bloomed like a flower.

At first fist-sized, it grew until a person could pass through.

Beyond the thick mist, someone emerged slowly.

The Organization’s boss, appearing in Branch 8, narrowed her eyes.

Steel pillars melted, and the scalding air could cook lungs with a single breath.

I watched her survey the scene.

What expression does someone dying in agony wear?

The answer littered the ground.

Her subordinates were just disposable criminals, unworthy of attachment.

Tools for her goal, nothing more, nothing less.

Yet…

She made a brief vow over the corpses.

“I’ll avenge you.”

With a light wave, she dispersed the heat.

She moved toward the building’s core, where the intense heat pulsed.

There, perched on a broken pillar, was a man.

Sensing her, he turned.

The former top S-rank hero, no longer [The Sun] but [Eclipse].

He spoke slowly.

“First time seeing you.”

Glancing her up and down, Eclipse lost interest and looked away.

She had skill to get here unscathed, but—

“No kids. Go home.”

The new guest looked like a schoolgirl in a uniform.

Though he slaughtered villains for his goal, he retained a shred of humanity.

Despite his consideration, the boss stepped closer.

“When entering someone’s home,” she said, stomping lightly.

“You take off your shoes. Turning villain, you forgot basic manners.”

The ground shook like an earthquake.

Cracks split the earth, debris surging toward Eclipse.

But the fierce attack melted in his overwhelming heat before reaching him, vanishing without a trace.

As always, lesser attacks couldn’t exist near him.

Eclipse eyed her, slightly surprised.

The attack was trivial, but her words piqued his interest.

“Someone’s home? Kid, are you…”

Whoosh!—

He tilted his head mid-sentence, but too late.

A red thorny vine grazed his face, drawing a thin red line.

Blood trickled.

He touched his cheek.

Definitely blood.

His eyes widened.

“Tch. Missed. Aimed for your head.”

The boss clicked her tongue, lowering her aimed hand.

“Quick reflexes for a has-been.”

Eclipse’s bored gaze sparked with intrigue.

A wound like this—years since the last.

Even S-rank villains from Zero—Chain’s breakout couldn’t scratch him.

This was a thrill.

He stepped off the pillar, facing her.

Their stares warped the space, cracks forming at the center.

“Got cut off. Let me ask again—are you the boss here?”

“Trampling my home with dirty feet is rude enough, but not knowing the owner’s face?”

Thicker, longer thorny vines rose, coiling around her slowly.

“This is the Organization’s domain. Not a place for a has-been to wreck.”

“…Organization?”

Eclipse frowned, puzzled.

The Organization brought one man to mind.

But Jeong Ho-cheol quit being a villain, didn’t he?

They’d met and talked.

That’s why he was taking over these leaderless territories.

Pondering, he recalled recent underworld rumors and smirked.

“So those rumors were true. Unexpectedly. Though his lieutenants took over. A kid like you as the new boss? That’s a joke.”

“Kid,” “joke”—he belittled her effortlessly, with the strength and credentials to back it.

Against the unparalleled evil of Jeong Ho-cheol, these new villains were child’s play.

Her calm held despite his mockery.

She smirked back.

“Hah. A guy who’d still be locked up without the Organization’s power—your tongue’s the strongest part.”

“Locked up? I needed alone time. Only he’d get that. By the way, you were behind Zero—Chain’s hit?”

Their paths hadn’t crossed during the breakout, so he hadn’t known.

He rested a hand on his hip, shaking his head.

“Free to keep the name, but the quality’s dropped. Ho-cheol’s Organization was terrifying. He’d weep seeing this.”

His muttered lament insulted the Organization, turning her calm into a scowl.

“You cross the line.”

Folding her raised finger, she clenched a fist.

Crack—

The vines around her engulfed the building instantly.

“I meant to leave you with a warning and a lesson, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“I’ll kill you here.”

Eclipse gave a small nod at the vines dominating the space.

Not something to dismiss.

Their sticky, lethal intent proved they weren’t just for show.

“Decent. A few S-ranks—no, more. But killing me? You throw that word around lightly.”

He opened his palm upward.

A fist-sized orb appeared, swirling orange, then erupting in intense light.

The heat and energy weren’t mere light—it was a small sun.

“Think I’d lose to a kid who doesn’t know why I’m the strongest?”

“Too much talk. Make your last words.”

“Last words?”

Eclipse looked distant, wistful, then met her eyes.

“Too bad—I died long ago.”

“Then no choice. Your last words will be screams.”

They collided.

* * *

I lifted my head from the map, yawning heavily.

The sun blazed outside.

I’d spent over four hours filtering suspicious gates.

Who knew there were so many abandoned gates?

Ten years ago, it wasn’t like this.

The hunters' greed had grown.

Finishing the last gate’s check, I set down the pen, pressing my thumbs into my eyes.

“Exhausting.”

Staring at the map all night felt like my eyes would pop out.

Looking around, So-hee and Se-ah were fast asleep, each claiming a long sofa.

Only the Dean, in his monocle, stuck with me.

“No wonder they say age cuts sleep.”

“That’s how you thank me?”

“It’s a compliment.”

“Lunatic.”

Picking up the pen, I asked?

“The places we checked—Association won’t help, right?”

“I’ll pass it on, but it’s tough. They’re short on manpower for escapees, let alone budget for all these gates. Plus, it’s a different field.”

I nodded, agreeing.

Heroes dealt with people and routine incidents.

Gate exploration was another beast—survival against harsh environments and monsters.

Different pros for that.

The Dean sighed.

“Hire hunters. It’ll cost, but I have no choice.”

“Mainly investigation, not combat.”

“Sample size is absurd.”

I stood.

“Then it’s on you.”

“Feels like you’re dumping all the grunt work on me lately.”

He’d heard about the person I dropped in his warehouse—my doing, obviously.

“Hey, I’m risking my neck here. Without me, you’d be sniffing incense behind a screen—overwork, if not villains.”

Not wrong.

“Fine. Risking your life. Time to settle this.”

He stood, approaching a wall.

Sliding a picture frame aside, he revealed a silver safe.

Key, password, retina, fingerprint—then it opened.

He pulled out a large case and handed it to me.

“A gift.”

Black leather case.

I knew what was inside.

My villain-era weapon.

The Purple Glass Sword.

I stared, grimacing, and shook my head.

“Told you, I’m not using it.”

“Think I don’t know how heavy your vow to never wield it is? Back then, it was a peaceful time, despite risks.”

Heroes’ biggest issues were rising petty crime and staffing shortages.

Minor stuff.

I didn’t need a weapon then.

Not now.

The enemies I’d face weren’t pushovers.

Bare-handed, I couldn’t even guarantee victory.

The old [The Sun] was a match I barely equaled at full strength.

Without a weapon, it’d be suicide.

[Eclipse], the new Organization, old legends—all loomed.

The Dean spoke gravely.

“If you die upholding that vow, I’ll respect it. But can you stand others getting hurt for it?”

No way I could.

He didn’t need to say it—I knew.

After a brief silence, I sighed.

Grabbing the case’s handle, I said.

“You’re right. Pride’s nothing. Lives matter most.”

It felt heavy.

A weapon I once swung effortlessly to take lives now felt impossible to lift with one hand.

Seeing my complex expression, the Dean nodded.

“I hope you never open it.”

Beyond my vow, the Purple Glass Sword was stolen Association property.

I’d retrieved it to keep it from villains.

If caught wielding it, explanations would pile up.

Our talk was secretive, leaving no trace.

It wasn’t just a hassle—it could shatter my fragile trust with the Association.

A last resort.

So-hee, woken by our talk, blinked.

“Done?”

“Yeah, just wrapping up.”

Se-ah stirred, stretching her arms.

“Ugh… Sorry for dozing. This sofa’s worth its price.”

“Stop drooling on it,” I said.

“No drool!”

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then froze—it was her pricey outfit.

“Go home, all of you. I need sleep.”

On the way back, Se-ah stopped, nudging my back.

“Why?”

Turning, I saw her holding So-hee’s pajama pants, standing still.

“Go ahead! I need to talk to her!”

Her suspicious tone made me glance, but her serious expression sent me to the dorm without protest.

Alone, So-hee asked, puzzled.

“Important talk?”

Se-ah tugged her pants.

“Come here.”

She led her behind the dorm, to a quiet alley.

Releasing the pants, she fidgeted, fingers clasped, silent.

What was so important to make her hesitate?

She usually spoke freely, like me.

“What?”

After a pause, Se-ah asked cautiously.

“He said five years till he’s done teaching. True?”

“Uh…”

So-hee’s breath leaked out.

Hard to confirm.

Honestly, three years seemed more likely, but if I said five, I had my reasons.

“Probably?”

Her vague agreement made Se-ah pout.

“Five years is too short! What’s the rush to quit?”

Her voice dripped with frustration.

Not just friendship—she didn’t need me as a professor to stay friends.

They could meet anytime.

This was deeper.

“I don’t want this! Finally, a professor I click with, and now back to boring union chair politics?”

Union chair, Manipulation Department head—she chose those roles.

Clington’s theory-heavy system left graduates unprepared, so she fought for change.

But her allies turned power-hungry, and union professors sought status, not reform.

Politics for power, for position, for nothing.

When it felt meaningless, she found a kindred spirit in me.

Grabbing So-hee’s clothes, she stomped.

“I need a real ally!”

So-hee looked troubled.

“But telling me doesn’t help. I can’t do anything.”

“Why not? You’re his minder. Know what that means? What could you do?”

A shadow crossed Se-ah’s face, her grin wicked, unlike her usual playfulness.

This was Clington’s union chair, Seong Se-ah, in public mode.

So-hee shivered.

First thought: extend my sentence.

Or tamper with student ranks.

Skipping reports could breach my contract, adding years.

But she pushed the dark thought away.

“What could I do?”

“Obviously…”

Se-ah’s wicked grin vanished, replaced by a mumble.

“I’m not close enough. Pushing him would backfire. You convince him. I’ll secure his professor spot. He’s got the skill! Sure, he needs certifications, but he can study!”

So-hee forced a smile, realizing her own thoughts were the wicked ones.

“I’ll try.”

“Really? Thanks!”

Se-ah beamed.

“What about me?”

“Huh?”

Se-ah’s eyes gleamed.

“Interested in grad school?”

So-hee froze.