Chapter 13: Union
A brief silence hung in the air.
Ho-cheol nearly lost consciousness for a moment.
The word from the staffer’s mouth was so absurd, so unthinkable.
He scratched the corner of his lips with his fingertip.
“Labor union… You mean a union?”
“Yes. Many of our academy’s staff and professors are part of the union, working to improve working conditions and more. If you join, there are plenty of benefits and…”
The staffer rattled on like a seasoned salesman, and Ho-cheol let out a small laugh.
The staffer, tense but hopeful, laughed along.
This is going well.
Easier than I thought.
But Ho-cheol’s thoughts were entirely different.
He laughed out of sheer disbelief.
A union for staff alone?
That he could understand—they were regular people.
But former heroes forming a union?
Insane bastards.
A curse rose to his throat but sank back down.
Why take it out on this guy?
It wasn’t some noble restraint.
Ho-cheol was just calculating his next move.
Kicking him out with insults would end it there, cutting off any chance to dig deeper.
He rubbed the inside of his lip with his tongue.
The sudden existence of a union sent his mind into a tangle.
Just a day ago, he’d changed the lecture venue.
Yet the villains attacked the exact education hall without hesitation.
Tracking his location in real-time wouldn’t let them seize the hall’s defense system so quickly.
They’d clearly known and prepared in advance.
How did information spread so fast?
Simple.
There was a traitor in the academy.
Even if not a traitor, someone was selling information.
And this union was highly suspicious.
Leaning against the doorframe, he tapped his thigh with his fingers.
“Sounds like the union’s pretty big…”
“Oh, over half the staff are members. About a third of the professors are in too.”
“Anything notable they do?”
“We do a lot of external activities and events!”
They’re definitely selling info.
Yesterday’s villain attack was countered easily due to an information gap.
Counting on that luck again was impossible.
Skilled villains never showed their faces.
The real masterminds behind the attack hadn’t revealed even a silhouette.
The president was tracking them, but the trail would likely go cold soon.
Would this keep happening?
Ho-cheol was certain.
It would.
Second, third attacks would hammer the academy, threatening students.
“Hm.”
Crossing his arms, he stared at the staffer.
Even a mere employee showed such loyalty to the union.
With high membership rates.
Did the president not know about this malignant tumor in the academy?
No way.
He recalled the fired professor the president mentioned on the first day.
Probably tied to the union too.
The president was likely watching them, but given the union’s nature, even he had limits.
“How long’s the union been around?”
“Just seven years. Short compared to Clington’s history, but we’ve achieved a lot, so no worries.”
No worries, my ass.
Ho-cheol’s mind raced.
He’d tolerated the attack for its use in his lecture, but repeated incidents would be a hassle.
Even if they hit other classes, the fallout would disrupt his schedule, maybe even the entire academic calendar.
This incident already canceled the week’s classes.
A packed schedule getting derailed?
No thanks.
It’d affect the students’ morale too.
And above all…
After being treated like a villain’s accomplice by security and professors yesterday, he realized something.
It feels like shit.
The thought of enduring that scrutiny every time villains attacked made his blood boil.
If it were villains, he could break their limbs.
But colleagues and staff?
Couldn’t do that.
He could only take so much.
After that, he wasn’t sure he could hold back.
Villain or not, he might snap.
Lost in thought, arms crossed, the staffer cautiously called out.
“Professor?”
Ho-cheol uncrossed his arms and waved his hand.
If the union stopped leaking info, the masterminds couldn’t move easily.
If he couldn’t catch them, the next best thing was having someone trustworthy infiltrate the union and nab the leaker.
But he couldn’t picture the justice-obsessed idiots succeeding.
They’d get caught, making things worse.
Reacting after a crisis was second-rate.
Finding the cause before it struck was first-rate.
And Ho-cheol was undeniably first-rate.
“Alright, I’ll hear you out.”
If he caught the leaker, they wouldn’t get off easy.
“How about we go to a café and talk about details?”
With that resolve, Ho-cheol slipped on his shoes.
* * *
At the same time, in a quiet academy café, Da-yeon’s group sat by a second-floor window.
The four, including Da-yeon, were visibly exhausted.
Yesterday’s unexpected first combat, followed by hours of security questioning, wasn’t something a single day could erase.
Even Da-yeon, who’d normally train relentlessly, couldn’t touch her bow and joined them at the café.
One of them looked up from their phone.
“Definitely… not C-grade, right?”
No need to specify who.
They nodded in unison.
Though one escaped, security and professors confirmed the attackers were A-grade villains, Cerberus.
Taking down three of them in under thirty seconds?
No C-grade villain could do that.
The combat footage was sealed as evidence, but they itched to see it.
“Even if he’s immune to mental manipulation, the other two weren’t.”
Ho-cheol’s overwhelming skill wasn’t C-grade, or even B-grade.
Augmentation types were weak against manipulation, yet he overcame numbers, compatibility, and a surprise attack.
A true hero. No, a superhuman.
The blonde student tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Well, his actual skill might be A-grade, but villain ranks are based on threat level at capture. Caught as a C-grade? He’s a C-grade.”
Hero and villain ranks factored in various conditions—public approval, achievements, and career for heroes; threat level, ideology, tendencies, range, and goals for villains.
Not a reliable measure of raw strength.
“That’s why they should list power ranks separately.”
Power ranks measured trait proficiency, skill, speed, strength, and compatibility, ignoring external factors.
“Should we ask the next class? What’s his power rank?”
“Kinda curious. Maybe he was waiting for that question during the first lecture.”
“That’s it!”
They chattered lively, as if their exhaustion had vanished.
“He’s got enough skill to show off in front of students.”
“Skill aside, he didn’t flinch once. That’s what impressed me.”
They nodded again.
It shaped their view of him.
The murderous intent from the mist was unforgettable, urging them to flee.
Yet Ho-cheol remained calm, serene.
Despite warning of danger, his unshaken presence reassured most students.
Same for this group.
They didn’t say it outright, but they couldn’t help respecting him.
As they discussed his true strength and trait, they paused, eyes converging on one spot.
Ten minutes in the café, and Da-yeon hadn’t said a word, just staring out the window.
Her usual reticence was due to stoicism—she’d nod or give short replies.
But today, she seemed elsewhere entirely.
“…You okay?”
Was the first combat lingering?
Or was she unwell?
She seemed off.
Blinking, Da-yeon slowly spoke.
“…It’s nothing.”
Then she gazed out the window again, listless.
“Come on, don’t be like that. Friends share.”
“Yeah, did you get hurt yesterday?”
As they tried to comfort her, a café worker approached with a tray.
“Ordered iced caramel macchiato, one size-up iced mocha with whipped cream and extra shot, one rainbow cosmos tea, one condensed milk latte, soufflé cake, and two whipped cream waffles…”
The familiar voice drew their eyes.
The worker froze mid-sentence.
More familiar than the voice was the face.
In a café-logo apron instead of a uniform, Ye-jin held the tray, gaping speechlessly.
“Oh.”
“Uh.”
One bit their lip in dismay; the other’s eyes gleamed like they’d found a fun toy.
Ye-jin was the former, Da-yeon the latter.
Da-yeon steadied her twitching lips.
What to say?
Anything would do.
Her slumped body surged with energy.
As she opened her mouth.
“Eh?”
Another student pointed below the window.
“Isn’t that the professor?”
Whoosh.
Da-yeon’s gaze spun 180 degrees.
Ye-jin was forgotten. It was indeed Ho-cheol, walking into the café.
* * *
Near the café entrance, after ordering, Ho-cheol took a seat.
“So, let’s hear it properly. What do I gain by joining the union?”
He’d decided to join, but agreeing too eagerly would raise suspicion.
Play it cool, and they’d think they barely convinced him.
The staffer, as if waiting, began.
“First, benefits. We provide activity funds…”
He flipped open a booklet, explaining earnestly.
“Also, holiday bonuses—what we call ‘rice cake money.’ Plus…”
“For professors with only one weekly class like you, it’s less relevant, but if you exceed fifteen hours, we ensure ample vacation…”
“And we offer a welfare card, which lets you…”
“Our union chair is the manipulation department head. If you face unfair work situations, just tell us, and we’ll resolve it.”
Ho-cheol barely listened.
He was planning how to catch the union’s leaker.
First, figure out how hierarchical they are, map the power structure, narrow down suspects.
The staffer, mistaking his silence for deliberation, grew excited.
“Especially with this villain attack while the president was away, we need to reform a system reliant on one person.”
Ho-cheol, having roughly outlined his plan, nodded.
“Alright, I’ll join the union.”
“Excellent choice. You won’t regret it, guaranteed.”
Ho-cheol thumbed toward So-hee, sipping her drink with a slurp-slurp.
“She’s joining too.”
So-hee had a counselor title for academy access.
Half-fake, but she was staff.
Eligible enough.
“Who’s this?”
“Association, but doubles as a counselor.”
“Oh! Got it. I’ll prepare two forms!”
The staffer beamed.
He’d wondered about their relationship, but an association member?
No reason to refuse—more members, more credit for him.
So-hee, startled, yanked the straw from her mouth.
“Why me? I’m not interested!”
“Might as well do it together.”
“No way!”
She stomped her feet.
She’d avoided the association’s union despite pressure.
Now she was stuck with a red armband?
Ho-cheol added, unfazed.
“She’s paying the dues too.”
“What? Why me!”
“Who’s taking my whole paycheck?”
“The association, not me!”
Ignoring her protests, Ho-cheol stood.
“Send the paperwork in writing?”
“Yes, you’ll get it by tomorrow.”
“Cool. Then—”
“At least listen to my opinion!”
“You’re tagging along for union stuff anyway, right? Joining makes it easier. Let’s go.”
So-hee, eyeing her half-full coffee and Ho-cheol, stood with a scowl.
As they headed out.
Thud-thud-thud.
Urgent footsteps descended from the second floor, and Da-yeon blocked his path.
Her sudden appearance made Ho-cheol’s eyes widen.
Her obsession with archery and strength was something he respected.
He’d assumed she’d spend non-lecture days at the range, not a café.
As he processed this, Da-yeon bowed deeply.
“…Hello.”
Ho-cheol nodded back.
“Hey.”
He acknowledged her and moved to leave, but Da-yeon blocked him again.
She stared at him intently.
Blocked twice, Ho-cheol asked, baffled.
“What?”
With a serious gaze, she said,
“Have you decided?”
“Decided what?”
Not that private tutoring nonsense again.
But her next words far exceeded his imagination—completely unexpected.
“Class leader.”
“Huh?”
It was why she’d been listless all day.
“You said we’d pick a class leader last time. Who is it?”
Her voice brimmed with certainty.
“Me, right?”
On the spiral staircase connecting the floors, her friends and Ye-jin peeked out, gasping in unison.
“Is she insane?”
Ye-jin’s mutter went uncontested.