Chapter 8 : Gaze
Ho-cheol’s nose wrinkled with displeasure.
He extended his hand to the side.
“Bow.”
Without a word, Da-yeon placed the bow and an arrow in his hand.
She didn’t understand the situation, but Ho-cheol’s expression was more serious—no, dangerous—than ever.
It was clear this wasn’t a moment for her to speak carelessly.
More than that, she felt a flicker of anticipation—could this be a chance to see Ho-cheol’s true strength?
“Arrogant bastard.”
Ho-cheol muttered irritably, nocking the arrow on the string.
If it was just a gaze, he wouldn’t be this annoyed.
The watch on his wrist already monitored his every move.
But the gaze from above carried clear hostility, obsession, and something darker—murderous intent.
The negative emotions, so familiar from his villain days, grated on his nerves.
He raised the bow, aiming at the source of the gaze.
Who do you think you are?
Creak.
The bow, stretched to its limit, groaned as if screaming.
It was a simple act of drawing the string, but the ripple effect was anything but light.
The space around Ho-cheol warped, shimmering like a heat haze.
Da-yeon, standing beside him, couldn’t withstand the pressure and collapsed to her knees.
The air—no, the space itself—felt heavy.
Gasping, she looked up at Ho-cheol.
From her angle, “it” merely had a human shape—cold as the deep sea, yet blazing like wildfire.
As Ho-cheol’s gaze grew darker and deeper.
Beep-beep-beep.
His wristwatch blared suddenly.
The sharp mechanical sound, jarring against the antique design, signaled that his trait output was nearing the association’s limit.
“Tch.”
Ho-cheol clicked his tongue.
If he couldn’t control his temper and kept pushing, he’d breach the contract.
Special forces would storm the academy, and his sentence reduction, professorship—everything—would be over.
He couldn’t let a few pests ruin it.
Breathing slowly, he reined in his power.
It irked him to use less than a tenth of his strength, but a promise was a promise.
The oppressive aura pressing down on the space weakened and vanished.
With no trait active, the watch fell silent, as if nothing had happened.
He released the string.
Whoosh—!
The arrow vanished into a tiny speck.
He stared at the sky for a moment, but the gaze was gone.
Sighing, he lowered the bow and turned to Da-yeon, who stood awkwardly, handing it back.
“Thanks for the loan.”
“Yes, sir.”
Wiping sweat from her forehead, she asked?
“What was that about?”
“Hm.”
After a brief pause, Ho-cheol ran a hand through his hair.
“Some weird pervert was watching.”
He shrugged.
“Not anymore.”
* * *
In a pitch-black room, not a sliver of light penetrated.
“Aaagh—!”
A man screamed, rolling on the floor.
“My eyes! My eyes!”
Creak.
The door opened, and another man entered, clicking his tongue at the writhing figure.
“Goddamn, Second. It’s not even a real eye—why the drama?”
The man called Second stopped screaming and jerked his head up.
Removing his hand, blood dripped from his clenched left eye.
“You’ve got some nerve, Big Brother! Even if it’s a prosthetic, it’s linked to real nerves—the pain’s the same!”
Blood tears splattered the floor with each shout.
Big Brother recoiled in disgust.
“Ugh, you’re cleaning that up.”
Bang—! Bang—!
Second slammed his fists on the floor.
“Bastard! I’d chew him up and still not be satisfied!”
“You bragged about your invincible technique, and you got caught in four days?”
Big Brother’s taunt made Second jerk his head up again, shouting.
“I wasn’t caught!”
The academy’s defense system enveloped the entire campus in a spherical barrier, detecting even flying insects up to 300 meters.
But his “eye” was 400 meters up—impossible for the academy’s system to detect.
Its “invisibility” and “presence concealment” were flawless, enhanced by top-grade traits costing billions per use.
Getting caught was, plain and simple, a fluke.
Big Brother, arms crossed, asked,
“Then what’s this mess? Looks like you misjudged the distance and got zapped.”
“Not the target or the academy’s system—someone else shot me!”
“Oh? They saw it?”
Big Brother’s eyes widened in surprise.
He pulled a chair to the table, where a monitor displayed an eye-shaped device, still recording what Second had seen.
“Let’s see how impressive this guy is.”
Pressing play, the screen showed Ho-cheol moving.
Staring at him, Big Brother muttered,
“Young. Too young to be at the academy.”
On the screen, Ho-cheol raised the bow, aiming their way.
The arrow grew larger, then thud—the footage cut off.
“He didn’t see it. Just good instincts.”
Pulling out his phone, he tapped rapidly, glancing between it and the monitor, then tilted his head.
“Not on last year’s roster. Must be a new professor.”
Young, with good instincts.
But that was it.
From the footage, Ho-cheol’s skills were mediocre.
Slow aim, average arrow power—B-grade hero at best.
For someone his age, not being an active hero but an academy professor meant a serious flaw for real combat.
To them, who scoffed at A-grades, Ho-cheol wasn’t even a minor variable.
Second staggered to his feet, pulling an eyepatch from his pocket to cover his left eye.
“Bastard! This eye cost billions!”
A top-tier prosthetic, starting at a billion.
To think it was ruined so soon.
The second stomped furiously.
If they ever met, he’d gouge out that guy’s eye.
Big Brother shook his head, arms crossed.
“Who cares? Pull off this job, and eyes like that? You could eat them like candy.”
“So, negotiations done?”
“Why else would I be back?”
“How much?”
Second, I had been waiting for this.
Big Brother stood, grinning, itching to brag.
“They raised the price when I pushed. Kill the target: 50 billion. Bring the body: 70 billion.”
“50 billion just to kill?”
The second was genuinely impressed by the client’s wealth.
Who were these guys, swimming in money?
He recalled a few months back.
A small villain group, unheard of, with no fame or rumors.
Yet they had that kind of cash.
“That’s not all.”
Big Brother couldn’t hold back, bursting into laughter.
The unpleasant sound echoed in the room.
Swallowing his laugh, he added,
“Capture alive: 100 billion.”
“Limbs?”
“Just keep them breathing.”
Second gasped, then grinned, showing his gums.
“That much for one kid? It’s a damn lottery. Time to change our lives.”
Their three-man villain crew was small, regardless of their track record.
A job this big was a once-in-a-lifetime shot.
Second’s grin faded as he asked.
“What about Third?”
“Gathering bait. Already got a hundred, so we can set a date soon.”
They shared an unpleasant laugh, glancing sideways.
A wall was plastered with hundreds of photos, all of one person.
* * *
Dusk settled, and Ho-cheol visited the president’s tower.
It was the weekend, so he worried the president might be gone, but thankfully, it wasn’t a wasted trip.
The president, baffled by Ho-cheol’s sudden visit, let him into the office.
“Showing up unannounced on a weekend evening? What’s this about?”
Ho-cheol, perched on the sofa’s armrest, briefly recounted the day’s events.
When he finished, the president set down his papers.
Spinning the pen in his hand, he sighed.
“Malice bordering on murderous intent.”
“Yeah. Not the kind you get from killing a few people. By our era’s standards, I’d peg it at A-grade.”
“Dangerous?”
“More like deranged.”
The president stood and sat across from Ho-cheol.
“Coming from you, it’s no mere hunch.”
Ho-cheol’s character was hard to trust, given his past sins.
Trust was easy to lose, hard to earn.
But his ability was undeniable.
Such a strong statement wasn’t something to dismiss.
“Surprising, though. I didn’t think you’d report something like this.”
“That’s why I came.”
Ho-cheol propped his foot on the desk between the sofas.
“I thought it over, and it feels like they’re targeting a student, not me.”
The president’s gaze turned incomparably serious.
“Targeting a student? On what grounds?”
“Sloppy, but excessive.”
He wagged his index and middle fingers.
“If they knew my real identity, they wouldn’t use such a crude method to watch me. They’d know they’d get caught. If my fake identity’s the target, that’s even weirder. Why go after a C-grade villain?”
The president pondered, then countered.
“That explains why you’re not the target, but not why it’s a student. And get your foot down.”
Sure, to villains, academy students were potential threats.
But with tens of thousands of active heroes, there was no reason to target unlicensed kids.
“No.”
Ho-cheol refuted firmly.
“Not just any student. If they’re after an S-grade hero’s kin, that’s motive enough.”
The president frowned.
Only one student came to mind.
There was just one child of an S-grade hero in the academy.
Rubbing his face, he muttered, looking years older.
“…I know who. Why you were with her on a weekend, I’ll ask later. If that’s true, this gets complicated.”
He twisted his mustache with his thumb and index finger.
“Tightening security would strain the budget, but there’s no choice.”
Ho-cheol, incredulous, jolted. Closing his eyes, he pressed his temples with his thumb.
“Goddamn. I forgot—you’re a hero through and through.”
Opening his eyes, he stared at the president.
“You think I came here on a weekend just to hear you talk about adding security?”
“Then what do you want? You’re not suggesting we send her home, are you?”
“Heroes, I swear.”
Ho-cheol clicked his tongue, genuinely exasperated.
“Why wait for the villains to make a move? Because you’re heroes? Because they’re villains?
Is self-defense that important? Drop that outdated mindset.”
Even after all this, he still acted like that?
Probably wouldn’t change until he died.
“Old man, what’s most important here? Your pride as a hero? Your rules as president? The law as a citizen? No—it’s the students. Their lives. Anything more important than that?”
“…No.”
“Same here. Law? Rules? Morality? Sure, they’re important. Worth keeping. But not more than lives.”
Ho-cheol lowered his foot from the desk.
Leaning forward, he spoke in a low voice.
“Don’t sit around waiting for some unknown villain.”
Straightening, he leaned back comfortably, crossing his legs.
Clenching his fist, he lightly tapped the armrest.
“Let’s strike first.”
The president let out a deflated laugh, incredulous.
“You can’t punish a crime that hasn’t happened. They’re just suspects—no, not even that. Completely innocent.”
“I know that much. I’m not saying we storm their hideout and rip their limbs off. Hm.”
He unclenched his fist, twisting his wrist.
“I mean, let’s set the stage perfectly and make the first move.”
The president stared at Ho-cheol silently for a long time.
“You know your expression’s pretty villainous right now?”
“So you don’t like it?”
The president touched his eyepatch, unable to say he didn’t.
Chewing his lip, he sighed and replied.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Good.”
Satisfied, Ho-cheol stood.
Hands behind his back, he paced the office.
“Villains are dangerous, even if they’re weaker than heroes, because you never know when or where they’ll strike.”
After about ten laps, he returned to his spot and turned to the president.
“But what if we know where and when they’ll appear?”
“Simple—subdue and arrest them.”
“Exactly. Like back-alley thugs.”
The president nodded silently in agreement.
Heroes were always at a disadvantage.
Villains committed crimes, and heroes reacted, cleaning up the mess.
“So let’s flip it. We pick the day. A day they can’t resist coming for.”
“How?”
“Your role’s simple. Barely anything.”
Ho-cheol closed his eyes briefly.
Organizing his plan, he opened them again.
“First…”
He began to explain.