Chapter 18: Test Results
The girl’s face flushed red at the mention of spanking.
She hurriedly covered her backside with both hands.
“There’s a better way to talk to your elders!”
“Elders? So you’re really a professor?”
Ho-cheol asked, puzzled.
If she was provoked by his jab, it made sense she’d be a professor.
No response came.
Instead, she waved her hand sharply.
The bear swung its fist again in sync.
The earlier attack was a test mixed with protest, but Ho-cheol’s lack of reaction left the latter unfulfilled.
Was he aware it wasn’t aimed at him, or did he simply fail to react?
Either way, she needed to find out.
The bear’s paw flew toward his chest.
But before it fully extended, Ho-cheol dodged with ease.
“All that confidence for this? The average professor’s skill is crystal clear. And the students they teach? Predictable.”
His blatant mockery made her face burn redder.
“Fine. I planned a light test, but this won’t do. Time to make it hurt a little.”
Her indignation made Ho-cheol smirk.
Truthfully, he felt little about this ambush.
If he were truly angry, the bear would’ve been torn to bear-human-thing in the first strike.
He was mildly annoyed, but only from the dust.
There was no killing intent, and her cautious swings to avoid hurting him were obvious.
Getting worked up wasn’t mature.
He’d anticipated this when he took the professor job.
In a way, this was welcome.
Despite her appearance, the girl’s skill was impressive by his strict standards.
Not augmentation but a manipulation-type trait user.
This power and proficiency without depletion rivaled seasoned heroes.
Where else could he face such a hero or villain?
Just minutes ago, he’d been pondering how to regain his combat instincts.
This was a golden opportunity.
Best of all, he was the victim.
Attacked in the academy’s heart, he had the moral high ground.
No blame would fall on him.
Sure, facing a kid felt odd, but her demeanor and skill showed she wasn’t a child—maybe not even younger than him.
She’d called herself an elder, so perhaps her appearance was trait-related.
Whoosh—!
The bear’s paw grazed his nose with a rush of air.
Ho-cheol dodged a flurry of attacks by a hair’s breadth.
Not barely—he chose to barely dodge.
A contradiction, but true.
He suppressed his abilities, even his near-automatic traits, to face the bear.
Its attacks could break bones or worse with a single misstep.
Yet he moved slower, weaker, pushing his body to its limits, driving himself into a corner.
The girl watched, quietly impressed.
His movements showed deep skill and combat experience.
But her admiration shifted to another emotion.
Whoosh—!
As he tilted his head back, the bear’s paw grazed past, clipping a few strands of hair that floated away.
Crushing an enemy with overwhelming force was easy, but that wasn’t strength—just dominance.
True strength lay in defeating a stronger foe with less power.
Ho-cheol needed to reawaken that ingrained strength.
To feel urgency, to face the terror of death, until his body screamed.
He dodged blindingly fast attacks slowly, simply.
Whoosh—!
In the fleeting gap between strikes, he spotted an opening.
He threw a punch.
Thud—
With his power restrained to the limit, the blow wasn’t strong.
But the precise, needle-threading strike accumulated steady damage.
Thud—
He hit the same spot repeatedly.
A small crack formed.
Crack—
On the fourteenth punch to the bear’s side.
Boom—!
Stuffing burst out like an explosion.
The bear, relentlessly attacking moments ago, froze and tipped over with a thud.
Ho-cheol tapped the fallen bear with his toe.
It moved via a manipulation trait, so this sudden halt suggested a condition like “the puppet must remain intact.”
He turned to the girl.
“So, what’s next? This isn’t the end of the test, right?”
She couldn’t respond, struggling to accept the reality before her.
Her hero career, hunter experience, and time as a professor weren’t short.
She’d crossed countless battlefields and death’s edge—a combat pro.
Misjudging an opponent’s skill was unthinkable.
Ho-cheol’s speed, power, and reactions were C-grade at best, objectively and subjectively weak.
Yet, against a weaker foe, she felt an unknown, alien realm for the first time.
Snapping out of it, she shouted shrilly,
“What—what are you!”
“Was a villain. Now a professor here. So, that’s it?”
Her hand grazed a device at her waist.
She had more, but using it would escalate beyond protest or test.
After brief hesitation, she let go of the device, sighing heavily in surrender.
“…Fine. That’s it.”
Spanked at her age?
Humiliating.
Should she run?
As she debated.
“Let’s wrap it up.”
Ho-cheol spread his hands, a rare, refreshed smile on his face.
Like switching from a tricycle to a bike with a bit more effort.
Not enough, but in a fight without killing intent, this was the limit.
Rolling his shoulders, loosening up, he asked?
“A test, right? Results?”
“…Denying it here would be petty. You’ve got the skill to teach. Claiming combat’s everything makes sense.”
She’d seen the villain attack footage.
She’d thought it half-luck, exploiting surprise and compatibility.
It looked that way.
But witnessing this, she had no choice but to accept it.
“By the way…”
Ho-cheol glanced around, muttering awkwardly.
“What do we do about this?”
He planned to pin it on her, but the area was a mess.
The ground was torn up, with three or four craters.
The bench behind was split, the grass obliterated.
Environmentalists would foam at the mouth. It was that bad.
The girl crouched down.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Stuffing the bear’s side, she spoke casually.
“As a union chair, I evaluate professors’ skills. This was reported in advance, with bystanders cleared. No issue.”
“Oh.”
Her calm tone convinced him, but he frowned.
Did I hear that right?
Sensing his gaze, the girl—no, the union chair—met his eyes, still stuffing the bear.
“Told you I’d visit.”
“Seriously.”
He’d heard it from the staffer, but who’d expect this?
“And if you’re in the union, at least know who the chair is.”
She finished stuffing the bear, which shrank like wet cotton, its tears mending as it returned to size.
The bear, now in her arms, looked sadder than before—or was that his imagination?
“By the way, I said…”
Ho-cheol stepped toward her.
“Eek.”
She flinched, shielding her backside with the bear.
He’s not actually going to spank me, right?
Despite her appearance, she was far older, and a former villain spanking her was too much.
Contrary to her fears, he knelt on one knee, meeting her eye level.
He stared seriously, then sighed and shrugged.
“If I offended you, I’ll apologize. Maybe there’s a great curriculum I don’t know. Teaching kids isn’t as easy as I thought.”
Apology aside, he wouldn’t retract calling the faculty inadequate.
It wasn’t wrong.
“But with the hero's oversaturation and declining standards, causing this shaky social climate, can you say the faculty’s blameless?”
Her lips curled inward.
His faculty jab stung because she’d had similar thoughts.
As a mere professor, her influence was limited.
She’d aimed for the president to overhaul the system but failed as just an A-grade.
The union was her fallback, a way to wield near-presidential power.
Ho-cheol smirked—not mockingly.
“Seems you’re aware.”
With that, he placed his hand on her head with a thump, ruffling her hair, then reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a candy, placing it in her hand.
“Excuse me.”
Grabbing her wrist, he forced her hand open and set the candy there.
“I’ll listen to complaints, talk ideas, share opinions—but no tantrums.”
Standing, he asked a sudden question.
“Are you really that much older?”
She mumbled a number.
His eyes widened at the figure, scanning her outfit and style, muttering.
“That’s a choice.”
“…Respect it.”
“I do, but I don’t get it.”
He turned, waving as if done.
“Keep teaching the kids well. Ease up on the stunts. And if you’re older, buy me a meal next time.”
He walked off.
The chair watched his back, slowly unwrapping the candy.
Worried about diabetes, she avoided snacks, but today was fine.
She popped the candy in her mouth.
It was sweet.
“Ugh—!”
Her face twisted miserably. Unable to spit it out, she checked the wrapper.
“Cinnamon! Damn cinnamon!”
Tears welled from the humiliating, indescribable taste.
* * *
In a quiet café, a middle-aged man in a fedora stood across from Da-yeon.
He greeted her as she read.
“Been a while. Are you well?”
“Yes. You too, butler.”
They exchanged monthly calls, but it’d been half a year since meeting in person.
Still, their greetings were formal.
The butler sat, pulling an envelope from his bag.
“Information on the new professor, as requested.”
“Thanks.”
She opened it, scanning the contents.
The file was thin, lacking substance—mostly things she knew or Ho-cheol would answer without hesitation.
The only notable detail was his trait, quite intriguing.
But it wasn’t what she wanted or needed.
Frowning, she asked?
“That’s it?”
“Yes. The association’s controlling information. This is the limit through current channels.”
She drained her teacup, openly disappointed.
“If current channels are limited, other routes could yield more?”
“Yes. This is legal and official.”
Intrigued, she glanced around, leaning closer.
“What routes?”
“Two options. Hit hard or dig deep.”
He raised his index and middle fingers.
“Hit hard?”
“Dig openly—finances, property, personal details, everything. Stir enough, and you’ll get a reaction. If the association asks you to stop, negotiate for the info. It could yield results, but risks conflict with the association, and the target might notice.”
She shook her head immediately.
Not worth considering.
If Ho-cheol found out, their shaky relationship would collapse.
Worse than doing nothing.
“The second?”
“The underworld. Illegal brokers and informants dealing in villain data. No ties to the association or target.”
She shook her head again.
Ho-cheol’s attitude valued ethics and morality over skill.
Using such routes and getting caught later?
Not a future she wanted.
“If neither suits you, there’s a sure, safe option.”
“What?”
Lowering his voice, as if it were critical, he said.
“Ask the master for help…”
He didn’t finish.
Da-yeon shot up, her face twisted with fierce emotion.
Her clenched fists trembled.
“Don’t mention that man!”
“Miss, the master…”
“I’m leaving.”
“Alright, no more about him.”
It wasn’t just bad blood.
To Da-yeon, her father was someone she refused to deal with—a wall, an enemy to overcome.
She hadn’t returned home once since enrolling.
Her rift with the Sword Demon was that deep.
Funnier still, he didn’t care about her attitude—or her existence.
The vicious cycle was irreversible.
She glared at the apologizing butler and sat back down.
“Keep pushing reconciliation, and I won’t see you either.”
“Haha, I’ll be careful.”
Smiling awkwardly, the butler changed the subject, bending to retrieve something.
“And the item you requested.”
Thud—
He placed a heavy hard case on the table, unlocking it with a click.
A gleaming white bow contrasted the black case, almost glowing.
Da-yeon let out a small gasp.
The butler smiled oddly.
“Surprising. You, who only used off-the-shelf gear, requested top-grade equipment.”
“It was time for a change.”
“You’ve no idea how hard it was to get this. The waitlist was…”
His tale of hardship didn’t register.
Her eyes were fixed on the bow’s sleek curves.
She touched it lightly.
Smooth yet firm.
She regretted not being able to hold it properly in the café.
“When we last met, you seemed done with archery.”
“Slumps happen to everyone.”
She suppressed a smirk, closing the case carefully.
With this, I can…!
* * *
Biweekly Saturday tutoring with Ho-cheol—their third session.
Da-yeon proudly showed off her new bow.
Skipping warm-ups, she held it, parading before him.
Notice it! Ask where I got it! She’d boast it was custom-made, top-grade.
“What? New bow…”
He trailed off, staring at it awkwardly.
After a pause, he said?
“…Where’d you pick up this trash?”
“Eh?”
The opposite of her expectations left her dumbfounded, only able to make a foolish sound.