Chapter 49: The Club (2)

“Ah, now that I think about it, we should look for a faculty advisor for the club. Next week are the written exams, so it wouldn’t hurt to prepare in advance.”

Ryozo muttered lazily from her spot on the bench, as if she’d just remembered.

“You’re right. After the exams, the professors will be busy grading. Asking for their help beforehand won’t hurt. Do you have anyone in mind, Saki?”

“Hmm, no, not really. You know I haven’t exactly been attending classes properly for a while now.”

Saki Ryozo shrugged casually as she spoke, her posture relaxed.

Speedweapon stared at her in disbelief as Ryozo chewed calmly on a yokan.

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on losing first place in the written exams this time either.”

“…”

Speedweapon, visibly stung in his pride, couldn’t refute Ryozo’s words. He opened his mouth but failed to form any sort of comeback.

Meanwhile, Chloe alternated her gaze between the two, smiling softly as if it were none of her concern.

“Anyway, let’s move on. If anyone has a suggestion for the faculty advisor, speak up now. If we find someone willing, I can draft a preliminary version of the plan and send it in as soon as possible.”

Speedweapon scratched his chin absentmindedly as he continued.

“By the way, keep in mind that the club advisor needs to be a professor or someone of equivalent rank, so consider those options.”

At Joaquin Academy, the academic staff were strictly organized in a hierarchical system.

If compared to the South Korean educational system, the instructors who oversaw cadet training and practical exercises were equivalent to high school teachers.

Professors, on the other hand, played a role more akin to university professors—they taught courses, conducted research in their labs alongside graduate students, and managed other academic responsibilities.

Since clubs generally had an academic purpose, it was only natural for professors to act as advisors.

Although, on further thought, it seemed like a subtle way to recruit their future research assistants.

“…From what I know, Professor Guk Seiton from the Ethics Department is already advising another club, so he’s out… Professor Ganma Yujiro from the Humanities Department never leaves his lab, so he’s practically unreachable…”
(Hayze: Yes, I know you thought of Baki hanma.)

Speedweapon murmured as he stroked his chin.

Chloe, her voice slightly nasal due to her lingering cold, timidly offered a suggestion.

“Then how about someone from the Gahos Department? Those professors are usually kind and have a good reputation among students.”

“Ah, Professor Damian? But that man’s always busy. Though it would be ideal if he agreed.”

Speedweapon sighed in frustration.

Among the more than 500 members of Joaquin Academy’s academic staff, only about 30 held the title of professor. Of those, roughly 10 were dedicated to first-year cadets.

Considering these limitations, finding someone willing to take on this responsibility seemed difficult.

Given the academy’s reputation as the world’s best, it was no surprise that professors had responsibilities beyond just teaching.

“…They say they encourage club activities, but their system is a mess.”

“That’s how things are when adults get involved.”

Ryozo said with an indifferent shrug.

“Kang Geom-Ma, do you have anyone in mind?”

Someone in mind…?

I thought about it, going over the faces of the people I knew and crossing them off one by one.

As I organized my thoughts, a sudden idea popped into my head.

“As long as they’re ranked as ‘professor or higher,’ that’s good enough, right?”

When I posed the question offhandedly, Speedweapon tilted his head curiously before responding.

“Yes, but there’s hardly anyone in the academy ranked above the professors.”

“But it’s not like there’s no one, right?”

With a slight smile, I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

Just as Ryozo finished eating her yokan, she asked curiously.

“Who are you calling?”

“The director’s office.”

***

The Office of Cladi von Beimharc

“Damn it!”

Cladi von Beimharc, one of the Five Elders of Joaquin Academy, ground his teeth and spat out a curse, brimming with fury.

With a sharp motion, he bit the cap off a glass bottle and poured its contents into a glass filled with ice.

The glass was barely half full when he tipped it back and gulped the liquid in one go.

Glup.

His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly as he swallowed.

“Pftt!”

The transparent liquid sprayed out of his mouth like a fountain, and the sharp scent of alcohol quickly filled the office.

“Is this… liquor?”

The taste was no ordinary drink.

It was Royal Scotch Black Label Edition, 28 Years, a luxurious whiskey Cladi had won at auction six months ago. Each bottle was worth tens of millions.

The glass trembled in his hand as he stared at its contents in disbelief.

“Who the hell dares—?!”

His brow furrowed, veins bulging as his anger flared.

After wiping his mouth with a gold-threaded handkerchief, he exhaled deeply and slumped into his chair.

“…Father.”

He thought of his father, Limon von Beimharc, known as the Mad Tiger and one of the Seven Stars’ legendary heroes.

Forty years ago, his father had perished in battle against Basmon, commander of the Sixth Demon Army.

Though the world revered Limon as a hero, his death left a deep scar on the young Cladi, warping his character.

After Limon’s passing, Cladi became the target of numerous assassination attempts by family members vying for his position.

In retaliation, he struck back, eliminating anyone who plotted against him and reestablishing order within his family.

By the age of thirty, he ascended to the prestigious position of Elder at Joaquin Academy. But by then, his soul was so corrupted that he viewed the world through the lens of hatred.

“The world needs a common enemy to maintain order.”

He firmly believed this. And for him, that enemy was the demons—a menace that justified his pursuit of preserving the current power structure.

But unforeseen obstacles always emerged.

One such obstacle was Leon van Reinhardt, the “heir to the Divine Blessing,” a figure destined to become the next Hero.

Of course, the power gap between humans and demons was colossal, making the idea of Leon van Reinhardt defeating the Demon King seem almost laughable.

However, history held a precedent: Balor Joaquin, the ancestral hero, had single-handedly sealed Lycan, the cruelest and most malevolent commander of the First Demon Corps.

That legend was undeniably true, and it unnerved Cladi deeply.

“History cannot repeat itself.”

It was then that someone approached him with a tempting offer.

“I can handle that so-called hero candidate for you, Elder.”

The voice belonged to an instructor—a human who had forsaken her humanity to forge a pact with demons.

A Villain.

Cladi let out a long sigh as his stomach churned.

“…Not just Leon. Now that damn commoner is complicating things too.”

The assassination had been instigated by the Elders, but the Auditore family had made it clear they would not act without a legitimate reason.

Although the Elders’ opinion would likely prompt a slow confirmation process, relying on formalities or a family of assassins who rejected bribes was not Cladi’s style.

However, letting himself be manipulated by that vile instructor also went against his principles.

Considering that the woman had once slapped him across the face, even drinking her blood crushed into shards wouldn’t quench his anger.

“Damn bitch.”

If he was going to crush her, he would ensure it was total. He had both the power and the wealth to accomplish it.

After swirling the ice in his glass for a while, he sipped the potent liquor.

“I suppose I’ll have to eliminate that insignificant brat first.”

Cladi reached for his phone, his finger dialing the rotary disc.

A short ring buzzed in his ear, and soon, someone on the other end answered.

⎯ Elder Cladi von Beimharc, at your service.

“Summon the Undertakers.”

His cold voice resonated as the ice in his glass clinked softly, heightening the chilling air of menace.

***

It was a hot, windy morning, heralding the beginning of summer.

Before the morning assembly began, I made my way to the academy’s administrative office.

Although we hadn’t yet gathered the five members required to officially establish a club, I decided to submit a preliminary proposal since written exams were scheduled for the following week.

The interior of the office, with its high ceilings and antique wooden furniture, resembled a boardroom more than a workspace.

Some staff members sipped coffee as if it were their lifeblood.

‘Do all office workers survive on coffee?’

I scanned the room, searching for department plaques.

…Faculty and Administration, Payroll Management, Accounting, Taxation… I skimmed through the labels until I found what I was looking for.

“There it is.”

At the far end of the office was the area designated for clubs.

Walking briskly toward it, I noticed that not all employees had arrived yet.

Only one staff member was at her desk.

She looked visibly tired, her chubby cheeks accentuating her weary expression.

“I’m here to inquire about starting a club.”

Upon hearing me, the woman gave me a quick once-over with half-lidded eyes. It seemed like a routine reaction in a place frequented by children of influential families.

However, her gaze lingered on my badge, and she sighed audibly. Before I could even hand over the documents, she looked up lazily and said in a sharp tone:

“Ha look, sorry, but only the club president can submit the application.”

“I’m the president.”

“You?”

Her lips twisted in disdain as she let out a scoff.

It was clear my status as a special admission student had something to do with it.

‘What the hell.’

How could someone working in an educational institution display such blatant bias? My temples began to throb.

“Listen, as long as the procedure is followed, the club can be created, right? Just accept the application.”

My cold tone made the woman flinch for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and responded sarcastically.

“Student… no, first-year cadet. To register a club, you need a faculty advisor. From what I see, it doesn’t look like you have one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Let’s be real. Do you think any professor here would want to advise a club started by a special admission student? Please, if you come from that background, at least learn to be more discreet.”

It was expected. The elitist mindset of people like her made any appreciation for the academy fade.

For a moment, I was tempted to use my preferred “dialogue method”—one involving swift, decisive action.

But I held back. Acting impulsively would make me no better than a criminal.

Still, after nearly two decades in the service industry, I had learned how to handle toxic people like this. Silence was the best strategy against arrogance.

The excess of words could be silenced with an impenetrable gaze. However, my hands, almost instinctively, searched for the sashimi I didn’t have with me.

To cut or not to cut? That is the question.

I suppressed the urge, shoved both hands into my pockets, and stared at her intently from above. My silence seemed to have an effect, as the woman flinched slightly.

However, just as it seemed she was about to raise her voice even more, something interrupted the scene.

Rollin’ Rollin’⎯♪ Rollin’⎯♬!!!

The upbeat ringtone filled the office, silencing her outburst.

Ignoring her incredulous gaze, I took out my phone and answered.

“Hello. I’m at the administrative office submitting the club proposal—”

“How dare you answer a call here? Do you even know where you are—?”

I continued the conversation, disregarding her rant.

“Ah, you’re nearby? Great, come on in.”

Hanging up, I looked at her and said.

“You just need to verify the advisor. She’ll be here shortly.”

“Hey! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? How important do you think your support is, huh? I can’t believe it! Listen! I’m the cousin of a close friend of the academy’s director! If I speak with him, a special student like you⎯.”

I let out a mocking smile at her threat.

Her face twisted, and she began pointing at me while shouting. The eyes of everyone in the office turned toward us.

‘Ah, there’s the true face.’

“Quiet, you’re speaking too loudly.”

I leaned in and whispered into her ear, making no effort to hide my disdain.

“What… what did you just say?”

Bang!

At that moment, the door to the administrative office slammed open.

Immediately, all eyes turned toward it.

For a few seconds, the employees were frozen in place, but soon they all stood up automatically. Seeing this, I let a faint smile cross my lips.

“About the club advisor.”

I raised my thumb and pointed toward the door.

“It’s her. Say hello.”

Elegant footsteps echoed across the office floor as tension filled the air.