Chapter 105: Final Exam

Aboard the Association’s transport helicopter, I stared at my phone.

Bzzz—bzzz—

From boarding till now, it buzzed relentlessly, no break.

Checking the numbers, all from the Hero Association.

No surprise—today’s events were the root of recent chaos.

But I didn’t even consider answering.

They’d figure it out eventually.

Too much hassle.

I didn’t forget to send a text, though.

[Don’t care about the other villains. The one called the boss—I’m her guardian now, I take responsibility. Don’t mess with her, talk to me.]

Maybe that’s why my phone was blowing up.

If it was So-hee or the Dean, who’d suffered with me on the Organization case, I’d at least pretend to think about answering.

But the Association, just itching to meddle?

They didn’t deserve more explanation.

More importantly, I had bigger things than debriefing.

Arms crossed, I sank into thought.

The second Organization was serious enough to make me, a guy planning to babysit kids, move directly.

Ji-an’s persuasion and surrender solved it.

But her executives’ sudden betrayal complicated things.

Her strength, despite inexperience, was real.

Without me, without Eclipse’s escape, the Organization could’ve ruled both worlds in a decade.

Their betrayal felt off.

Not driven by her true goal, just poor treatment?

Those executives I saw weren’t that emotional.

Their offer to let me go, checking my strength, proved their cold calculation.

Their betrayal meant they saw greater gain without Ji-an, implying a hidden backer.

That confidence bugged me.

And the drug that briefly subdued her wasn’t ordinary.

Her personal power was the biggest issue, sure.

But the Organization—its existence, growth, background—was a mystery.

Its rapid expansion, faster than my era, its Trait research, evading detection, planting spies in the Association—all pointed to something more.

Its actions sometimes contradicted its nature, as if a third party’s will was mixed in.

Another villain group’s involvement explained it.

Someone saw Ji-an’s emotions and shortsighted obsession early, exploiting it.

If that mastermind existed, they’d be a tough foe.

But confirming their existence was simple.

Ask Ji-an.

She’d know direct or indirect contacts, supporters.

With her goodwill toward me, she’d talk.

Finding the mastermind ended there.

I didn’t care beyond that.

Whatever grand villain group schemed, it wasn’t my problem.

Ji-an’s case was my past debt, my responsibility.

Unless they picked a fight, staying out was best for both.

My focus: guiding students, catching listed escapees, reforming this troublemaker.

As I planned ahead, the helicopter reached the Academy.

Standing, I froze.

My seat was blackened, soaked with dead blood on the sheet and floor.

Tissues wouldn’t help.

Awkwardly standing, I glanced at the Legal Department agent.

“This…”

Scratching my head, embarrassed, I said,

“Car wash fee? Cleaning bill? I messed it up.”

“It’s fine. Public duty. I’m not cleaning it.”

“Fair enough.”

I stepped off, heading to the exam at the Training Hall.

At the entrance, So-hee crouched, staring at her phone.

I hoped to avoid her till the exam ended, but she was waiting.

Sneak through the back?

I turned, but—

She sensed me, looking up.

Beaming, she ran toward me, then slowed as she neared.

Her bright face darkened, turning to horror.

“What’s this state!”

She jumped.

My clothes were rags—fine.

But soaked in blood.

“Blood! Blood!”

“Hardly mine.”

My reassurance backfired.

“Hardly” meant some was mine.

“Crazy! And…”

Her eyes caught my palm and side.

Wounds beyond the bloodied rags—critical.

She went silent, unable to speak.

Grind—

Her clenched teeth echoed.

Collecting herself, she said.

“You know what I’ll say.”

“Probably?”

My weak reply made her unclench her fist.

I knew her words; she knew my response.

So—

“Go. We’ll talk later.”

She didn’t stop me.

Anyone could see I needed treatment, yet I came here.

Something mattered more, and her feelings couldn’t block that.

“Thanks.”

“Wait.”

She grabbed my wrist as I passed.

Seeing my palm’s wound, her face darkened.

The poison was mostly cycled out, but the blackened scar remained vivid.

“…Promised no injuries.”

“Got this saving someone. Doesn’t count, right?”

“That’s your excuse?”

Her grip tightened, like she’d punch my side.

I apologized quickly.

“Sorry.”

Sighing, she pulled a handkerchief, wrapping my palm tightly.

“Now go.”

“Be back.”

Waving my bandaged hand, I opened the training hall door.

At the underground exam site, I picked up the radio I’d left, checked the channel, and pressed the button.

Static—

A sharp voice cut through.

“Hey!”

Se-ah’s yell crackled.

I’d held the radio away, expecting it.

“Three hours, where were you! Tell me if you’re bailing!”

I pictured her, fists clenched, arms flailing.

Good thing it was radio.

If she saw me now, exam or not, she’d chew me out.

Unlike So-hee, she lacked tact.

I replied calmly.

“Telling you wouldn’t be bailing.”

“Hey!”

“Sudden important business.”

Hearing “important,” she stopped, clicking her tongue.

I scanned the area, asking?

“How’s the exam?”

“Ran one round. Now setting up the second with new scenarios.”

She briefed me.

No major hiccups, villains like Wolf Fang obeyed.

“No failures? Surprising.”

“The kids’ heads work fast. Less panic, they know the best moves, if not perfect.”

I’d rigged tough groups, expecting some to flop.

Pleasant surprise.

“Where are you?”

“B. Not sure exactly.”

“I’ll start at J, head to E. Let’s not overlap.”

“Working me hard.”

She grumbled but agreed.

“Good luck.”

Clipping the radio to my waist, I stretched.

Condition: awful. Stamina: ready to collapse.

But perfect.

Today, I was a villain.

Immersed as a professor lately, mimicking a villain’s dark aura was tough.

But my lousy condition and mood let my old self shine naturally.

“Hope they’re ready.”

Se-ah’s part was just ranking.

The real final exam started now.

* * *

Da-yeon, Ye-jin, and two male students—four in their group—patrolled the city, staying vigilant.

But their steps carried excitement.

They’d cleared two tests via Se-ah.

Bank robbery, hostage crisis—handled smoothly, earning her praise.

Near-perfect, likely top ranks.

But after the second test, Se-ah hinted it wasn’t over.

With less than an hour left, they held tension.

Crash!—

Amid dull patrol, shattering noise and a short scream echoed.

Simulation humans didn’t exceed certain decibels.

An outsider’s interference.

They rushed to the alley.

Turning the corner—

They froze, as if on cue.

Not a shocking scene.

A blurred-faced man lay on the ground—simulation’s hallmark.

And a figure half in shadow.

Even shadowed, unmistakable.

But the aura was alien.

Ho-cheol stepped from the shadow, turning, nodding.

“Response time: 1 minute, 32 seconds. Not bad.”

“Professor.”

Someone muttered.

Hearing it, I smiled—an eerily ominous grin.

“Professor? What do I look like now?”

Da-yeon snapped out of it.

“…Violent incidents, one villain, at least one victim. Prepare response. Formation 2.”

She raised her bow from the rear.

The others spread, widening angles.

Post-grouping, they’d strategized, practiced during patrols—smooth moves.

I tapped the ground, watching.

“Victim? Don’t worry about it. Just bait to call you.”

I shoved the fallen man aside.

Just a textured dummy—no issue treating it like a mannequin.

I continued.

“Se-ah’s test was complex—lots to see, show. I’m testing pure combat. No worries, come at me full force.”

I clasped my hands behind my back, yielding the first move.

Yet they didn’t budge.

Swallowing, gripping weapons tighter was their limit.

I was clearly weaker than usual.

My outline wavered oddly.

They’d learned my aura’s flow through training.

It was the faintest, most unstable of the semester.

Not acting—no reason to.

Something had worsened my state.

Yet why the chills, the trembling?

This unknown fear—where from?

They couldn’t know.

Realizing, I added.

“Oh, I’m a villain today. No plans to play fair.”

That made them understand.

My usual killing intent was emotionless, pure.

Today was different.

Villainous malice, faintly mixed in, was denser, heavier than mere intent.

A seething malice, barely veiled, roared out.

As a villain, not a professor, I was a dangerous beast.

“Argh!”

Pushed by fear, a male student charged with a loud cry.

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