Chapter 92. Fate (3)
The door cracked open, and a head peeked in.
A familiar face.
Da-yeon looked at cautiously, asking.
“Can we co in?”
I gestured silently.
The door opened wider, and Da-yeon stepped into the hospital room.
Her white hair neatly tied back, she bowed politely.
“Excuse us.”
“Hiii…”
Ye-jin, dragging out her words, followed her in.
They shuffled to my bedside.
“Others wanted to co, but we’re here as class reps,” Da-yeon said.
“Good call. Too many would cause chaos.”
I nodded.
“Any kids hurt in the attack?”
Buildings got obliterated in that villain fight.
The Dean said no students were seriously hurt, but hearing it from those involved was different.
Da-yeon nodded quickly.
Thanks to my swift response, everyone evacuated to the bunkers, and despite the buildings collapsing, there were no casualties.
I sighed in relief.
“Good.”
I glanced at Ye-jin, unusually quiet.
Her eyes, voice, and stride lacked their usual confidence.
For soone who thrived on bravado, this was off.
Concerned, I asked?
“What’s with you?”
“N-Nothing…”
She sighed heavily, despite her words.
I considered pressing, but Da-yeon spoke first.
“Um, this…”
She placed a basket on the room’s central table.
“Didn’t want to co empty-handed.”
A lavish basket, adorned with ribbons, brimd with premium fruits, each ticulously wrapped.
Too extravagant for a two-day hospital stay.
I replied dryly.
“Thanks.”
“Uh, too…”
Ye-jin pulled out a hidden hand.
“I got sothing, but…”
A fruit juice set, in plain, slightly dented packaging.
She set it on the table’s corner, sighing.
Compared to the basket’s gleaming fruits, the juice box’s cartoon fruit looked pitiful.
She felt small, head bowed, whispering.
“Sorry, that's all I could manage…”
Her voice was thick with sha.
I realized why she was subdued.
Even for soone unbothered by poverty, the contrast was humbling.
Glancing at Da-yeon, I saw a faint surprise on her face—she hadn’t expected this.
Probably bought separately and t here.
No rivalry intended.
Good.
My response was simple.
I smirked.
“Sorry for what? That juice is hard to find.”
Given her circumstances, it was a big effort.
It’s the thought, not the price.
“I’ll eat the fruit later. Let’s crack the juice. Grab a grape one.”
Her face brightened at “favorite juice.”
“Okay!”
She opened the box, uncapped a bottle, and handed it to .
“Hey, what about ? I went through hell too…”
So-hee, on the opposite bed, peeked from under her blanket, grumbling.
Realizing their oversight, Da-yeon and Ye-jin turned, apologizing and comforting her, but her lips were already pouting.
Watching the cody, I finished the juice, tossing the bottle in the trash.
“Stop ssing around. Co here.”
Da-yeon and Ye-jin stood by .
I sat up on the bed.
“The gate ordeal gave so thoughts.”
I recalled the Organization’s villains.
Even the grunts, not the boss, were dangerous by hero standards.
Plus, their endlessly churned high-output test subjects.
Compared to a few years ago, hero risks had skyrocketed.
My students would graduate into peak danger as rookie heroes.
Not my problem after graduation?
A bit, but not now.
Lost in thought, I shifted my hand, propping my chin like a gun with thumb and index finger.
“If my students get beat out there, it’d break my heart. Right?”
Sensing sothing ominous, they nodded hesitantly.
No other answer worked.
“…Right?”
“Yes.”
My finger twitched sharply.
“But with this training intensity, you’ll only suffer out there. What then?
Wait for that obvious future?”
“…No.”
“Why no answer?”
Da-yeon shook her head.
“Exactly.”
I grinned.
Their hearts raced—not positively, more like arrhythmia.
“Tell the class: no more half-assed lectures.”
“…Huh? What?”
Even Da-yeon, who never questioned , gaped.
What did I just say?
Ye-jin’s jaw dropped, speechless.
“I’ve been too lax because of my position. From now on, I’m going all in.”
I stood, placing hands on their shoulders.
“When you graduate, every one of you—A-rank. The talented and driven? S-rank.”
My grip tightened.
“I’ll make it happen.”
I declared.
“No matter the ans. Absolutely.”
A-rank, S-rank heroes—thrilling titles.
But they couldn’t rejoice.
They trembled, silent.
Monday lood terrifyingly.
* * *
Monday ca.
My lecture, as usual, was in a spacious training hall.
Sitting alone, I crossed my legs.
“See the notice? I’ve been holding back. Plan a serious lecture, and it’s ‘too harsh,’ ‘dangerous,’ ‘affects stamina for other classes.’ Most got shot down. So much whining.”
I tapped my knee.
“Why can’t lectures be harsh? Dangerous?”
Obviously they shouldn’t.
Students swallowed the urge to say it.
I vented fiercely.
Caring most about their safety and future, I believed the Academy’s training needed to be tougher, more dangerous.
“Harsh, dangerous training here saves your lives out there. So, I’m doing it right now.”
The faculty would riot, but I didn’t care.
To shut them up, I’d grabbed power I never wanted.
Before work, I’d signed the deputy head papers at the Dean’s tower.
So tedious steps remained, but the Dean would handle them.
Few could nag now.
“Today’s topic…”
Standing, I scanned the students.
What brutal, painful three hours awaited?
Getting beaten to build resilience?
A joke from a group chat without , but not impossible.
My declaration terrified them.
All eyes, tense, fixed on . I spoke slowly.
“Create a signature move.”
“Huh?”
Soone let out a dumb noise.
My words were unexpected after that scare.
I shrugged.
“‘Signature’ doesn’t an killing. Heroes don’t kill.”
Soft laughter broke the gloom.
I raised my finger, continuing.
“A new technique, a trump card to turn the tables. Doesn’t have to be offensive. How do you make it?”
They pondered.
A trump card wasn’t conjured easily.
But I exuded confidence, like it was doable.
Seeing their puzzled faces, I sighed.
They didn’t get it?
I curled my raised finger, clenching a fist.
Crack—
The air around it shimred, space trembling.
“Face overwhelming violence. Fear of death, screams, final gasps. Push to your limit, then push more—until you’re screaming, I’m gonna die.”
My smile vanished.
I bent, picking up a rod—not the usual leafy stick, a proper one.
I waved it.
“Expect to ‘die’ three tis each day.”
My eyes, never shown to students, were like a savage beast’s.
Sharp nace and fear made them gulp, tense.
“By the way, dics are on standby outside, so don’t worry.”
Who knew I’d mobilize dical staff for a lecture?
Power was nice.
* * *
The Organization’s base.
The boss, picking a book in her study, frowned.
“What’s this?”
Sighing, she turned.
Several executives stood before her.
“Your eyes are insolent.”
Most lowered their gazes, but the lead executive t hers unflinchingly.
“Boss.”
“Speak.”
He clenched his fist, resolved.
“The Organization’s Wavering.”
It revolved around one absolute linchpin—her.
Her overwhelming strength, cold judgnt, and bold actions drew people beyond villainy.
Two years since the Organization formalized, executives found no flaws in her.
She got annoyed, but never nervous.
Angry, but never sad.
Urgent, but never without composure.
A true superhuman.
But recent days showed human weakness—nervousness, sadness, urgency.
She’d secluded herself, unable to quell the unrest.
Her frailty sparked doubts about her leadership.
“Are you wavering?”
Her lip curled in a sneer.
“So, you question my worth?”
Rumble—
Her overwhelming aura crushed them.
Even trembling under suffocating pressure, the executive persisted.
“The no-kill rule burdens lower mbers.”
Unlike her, a supre powerhouse, rank-and-file needed killing intent to fight effectively.
She clicked her tongue, eyes full of disdain.
“That’s why you’ll always be tagged as villains. Want power, wealth, status? Fine. Conquest runs on fear.”
If the Organization was just another villain group, so be it.
But their goal was grander.
“For domination, not conquest, honor is essential.”
She trailed off.
Their presence had irked her, and now it grated.
They weren’t equals to converse with.
“Your heads are too high. Who dares look down on ?”
Their upright stance offended her.
She kicked the lead executive’s shin.
Crack!—
Bones shattered, and he collapsed.
The others followed, bones breaking, lying flat.
Much better.
She declared calmly.
“Don’t doubt. We’ll conquer the world, and the Organization will rule.”
Domination, not conquest.
This nation, then the world.
That was the Organization’s official goal.
“You dare doubt that grand dream?”
They swallowed, tense.
Her recent wavering seed an illusion—she was back to her lofty, unmatched self.
Only one response remained.
“S-Sorry.”
“Pathetic. Get out.”
Staggering, they left the study.
Her displeasure deepened at their backs.
“Idiots.”
Fawning over world conquest without ability—just useful vermin she tolerated, not cared for.
Her words were never false.
The Organization would conquer this nation.
But the boss wouldn’t be her—it’d be “Sir,” Ho-cheol.
No place for these fools then.
She didn’t want him to see them.
Preparations had progressed steadily.
Thinking of Ho-cheol, her cald heart stirred again.
She chewed her thumbnail reflexively.
Wounds piled on unhealed cuts, blood dripping.
But she felt no pain.
His cold, sharp gaze in the gate tore her heart.
That was her pain, her sorrow.
It was a misunderstanding.
She wanted to scream.
But saying so risked collapsing everything—built for him, not her.
She couldn’t clear it.
She couldn’t hold back anymore.
Turning, she left the study, seeking a movent-Trait operative.
“Prepare a gate. I’m going out.”
Startled but dutiful, the operative asked?
“W-Where to?”
She paused, swallowing.
Always rational, calculating every choice’s impact, even minor ones.
But her feelings for Ho-cheol clouded that.
One desire—to see him—drove her.
“…Clington Hero Academy. That’s where I’m going.”
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