Chapter 93: Fate (4)

Checking the time, I muttered, dissatisfied.

“Lecture time’s too short.”

Even with the time accelerator stretching it to over seven hours, the number of students made deep dives tough.

Maybe triple the accelerator.

Or add another session.

Or both.

Ignoring their opinions, I schemed darkly.

I adjusted my clothes.

Sleeves rolled down, top button redone.

After nearly seven hours of intense movement, not a hair was out of place.

Hands in pockets, I addressed the students.

“Review what you learned physically with your heads. Or next week’ll be way worse.”

No response.

They couldn’t.

All were half-conscious, sprawled out.

The medical team I’d called was swamped.

The healing-Trait doctor was dying.

A seasoned Academy medic, he’d never seen a lecture this brutal.

Was this even a lecture?

I added.

“This session’s average score: 32 points. Individual scores don’t vary much, so keep that in mind.”

32 out of 100.

Low, but compared to my active days, not bad.

Early semester, no one broke 10.

In half a term, they’d grown this much.

Some, hearing the record-high score, stirred.

I nodded.

“Class dismissed.”

Ignoring their feeble goodbyes, I left the training hall.

* * *

On the way to the dorm, I wiped sweat from my brow. Mid-June—early summer sun stung.

Many students now wore summer uniforms.

Time to clean the AC, I thought, walking, then stopped.

Something had bugged me since leaving the hall.

I figured it’d drop off, but how long would it follow?

I turned sideways.

Between the lined-up buildings, a student hid, watching me.

I’d become a campus celebrity with all the incidents, but it was just passing glances.

Being tailed like this?

First time.

It felt weird.

Our eyes met.

She flinched, hiding further, but too late.

I pointed at her, then curled my finger to the ground.

Clear gesture.

But she acted clueless, glancing around, pointing at herself.

I snorted, nodding.

She scurried over, standing before me.

Arms crossed, I studied her.

Standard uniform, but a different tie color.

Different department?

Vaguely, I recalled the Operator department used that color.

Not a Hero department student, that’s for sure.

“Surveillance, tailing—whatever the reason, it’s not fun for the target. I won’t ask why, but cut it out.”

“Oh.”

Frozen, she let out a small noise, then bowed her head, realizing something.

“Yes… Sorry.”

My gaze drifted to her hands.

“And…”

Her clasped hands—her thumb was a mess, chewed to bits, bloodied even now.

I clicked my tongue.

“Hand.”

“Huh?”

“Show me your right hand.”

She raised it hesitantly.

Her thumb was shredded, indistinguishable from nail to flesh.

“Looks like you bit it, not just injured. Bad habit, whatever your job.”

“Yes…”

She lowered her hand, but I grabbed her wrist first.

“W-What?”

Startled, she stammered.

I moved fast.

Pulling a bandage from my pocket, I deftly unwrapped it with one hand, wrapping her thumb.

She stared, shocked, at the bandage.

I shrugged.

“Just to stop you chewing. Put medicine on later.”

Snapping out of it, she mumbled.

“Th-Thank you.”

“So…”

Holding her wrist, I whispered.

“What’s the mighty Organization’s boss doing here?”

My certain question froze the soft mood.

The student—no, the boss—widened her eyes.

* * *

She panicked.

Using a Trait to alter her appearance, height, and voice, she’d even worn a tailored uniform to avoid suspicion.

And he saw through it?

She hadn’t planned to approach Ho-cheol.

Knowing he was here, thriving, was enough—satisfying, joyful.

So she watched from afar, repeating to herself.

He’s a bit upset with me, but it’s just a small misunderstanding.

With more effort, enough strength to secure our future, it’ll all work out.

Just wait a bit.

When he called her out, her heart raced.

Ready to bolt, she approached.

He only chided her for tailing.

She shouldn’t be caught but wanted to be.

Relief and disappointment clashed.

When he bandaged her hand, her heart nearly burst.

Then—

“No answer?”

His expression shifted, cold, like facing an enemy.

She whispered.

“How…”

“Think that kind of power can hide?”

She yanked her wrist free.

Surprisingly, I let go.

Despite the hostile vibe, I didn’t escalate.

The Organization’s boss disguising herself to see me meant no immediate trouble—likely just observation or talk.

A rare chance.

I asked my biggest question.

“Do you know me?”

For a fleeting moment, she wanted to say “Yes.”

Her mouth half-opened.

But she snapped it shut.

If she told the truth, she’d want to abandon everything—revenge, hope, dreams—and run.

With superhuman restraint, she held back.

To the silent boss, I pressed.

“What’s the Organization’s goal?”

No answer.

She couldn’t.

Her mind churned with different thoughts.

If she revealed herself now, would he remember?

Understand her purpose?

Believe her?

If he didn’t, the thought alone made her feel like dying.

“Tch. Not talking?”

I read her silence as hostile.

Staring, I added.

“One piece of advice: surrender.”

Her shock dwarfed being exposed.

She’d imagined reactions, but not this.

A hidden meaning?

My face was dead serious.

“Don’t know your beliefs or goals as a villain, but you’ll regret it someday. And I’ll catch you. Human experiments, running a villain group, attacking state facilities, kidnappings—adds up to a hundred years easily.”

Recent crimes were so vile, maybe more.

But that’s if I caught her.

“Surrender, it’s different. Cooperate, get a good lawyer—twenty, thirty years tops.”

Money talks in this country.

I got nearly two hundred years admitting guilt without a lawyer.

With one, half that.

Always cold to villains, I was different now.

“No one’s died by the Organization’s hand yet, so this is my last advice as an adult.”

The final “line” you can’t cross.

Faint, but she hadn’t crossed it.

I saw a sliver of redemption.

“Surrender…”

She murmured.

My sincere advice strengthened her resolve, calming her wavering heart.

This world was wrong.

It branded kind people like him evil, and her too.

To stand proudly before him, a new justice was needed, not this rotten one.

Her expression shifted.

Regret, hesitation, faint guilt—gone.

Only firm will and confidence remained.

As the Organization’s boss, she declared.

“I’ve never sinned. ‘Surrender’ is the wrong word.”

I frowned.

Hoped for a chance, but no talking, huh?

Still, if there was any hope for reform… I sighed softly.

She stepped back.

Lingering risked being swayed to give up everything.

She activated a stored Trait.

“I’ll withdraw today. Don’t interfere with the Organization again.”

She meant it.

Each meeting piled bad feelings and memories.

She didn’t want to cross him until her work was done.

She’d avoid the Academy if possible.

Black smoke rose behind her.

“If you value what’s precious, heed this warning.”

Stay well.

Swallowing her true words, she spoke lies that hurt them both.

Her final expression, vanishing into the smoke, looked ready to cry.

Why always that face?

I couldn’t understand her.

* * *

Her appearance should’ve triggered an Academy-wide alert, but since she left quickly, it was pointless panic.

I shared it quietly with the Dean and a few others.

Back at the dorm, I collapsed onto a chair, not changing.

“If she came to mess with my head…”

I tapped the table, leg jittering.

“Perfect plan. Driving me nuts.”

So-hee watched, intrigued.

I rarely showed such agitation since release.

Not even washing my hands after going out—my irritation was peak.

“Damn, who is she?”

No familiar face or voice came to mind.

But that strange familiarity?

If it was just familiarity, no issue.

She ran the second Organization—maybe we’d crossed paths.

The problem was her emotions in our two meetings.

No displeasure at an obstacle or malice toward an enemy.

If she’d come at me, I’d have no reason to hold back.

But no malice, no killing intent—her gaze made me feel like the bad guy.

Feelings that didn’t faze villain-me weighed heavy now.

So-hee, watching from the bed, asked?

“No memory at all?”

“Ten years. If I remembered clearly, that’d be weird.”

My villain days were unmatched in intensity.

Multiple life-or-death fights daily, washing blood with blood.

Relationships were impurities—no time for them.

In Zero—Chain, with nothing to do, recalling them only depressed me, so I tried forgetting.

Succeeded, mostly.

All that remained were combat experiences and knowledge.

Daily life?

Mostly gone.

So-hee nodded, understanding.

“Fair, memories fade. But in that wild time, crossing paths with a kid under ten? Intense enough to stick, right?”

I shut my mouth.

My gaze drifted to nothing, eyes blurry, recalling the past.

Her comment hit something.

I stopped tapping.

No words, but it was a yes.

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