The Genius Tamer of the Academy

Chapter 177

Though the situation had largely settled, there was still a conversation that needed to take place—one that had been put off for far too long.

Han taesu and Adela were those two people.

Han taesu met Adela in Han Si-hyuk’s office.

Han Si-hyuk, understanding the need for the discussion, had vacated the room, giving them ample time to talk.

There was only one reason Han taesu had called Adela.

Han taesu stared at Adela for a moment before finally speaking.

“You will resent me for the rest of your life.”

Adela’s sharp retort cut through the air.

“You should be grateful I’m not killing you.”

“You should be grateful I didn’t kill you,” Han taesu countered, his words subtly different. Adela scowled and glared at him.

“What?”

Han taesu was indebted to Adela.

He also carried the guilt of having destroyed an innocent child’s life.

Even so—

“I was going to kill you.”

Adela’s brows furrowed even more, her confusion plain as she did not know the full context.

“I’ll tell you why.”

What followed was a story Adela had never heard before, and it was truly shocking.

Han taesu confessed that everything had been orchestrated by the Emperor, and as a loyal subject, he had carried out the order.

While it was entirely Han taesu’s fault, he did not hide any of the grim details.

Over a decade ago, the Seer had spoken.

The lone survivor of Katablam would one day kill his son.

So Han taesu had to deal with the tragedy himself, explaining why he had to carry out such a horrendous act.

It was all in the past.

But the survivors of that day were still living, burdened with the memory of that dark day.

Han taesu knew he had to be honest, though it was a truth he would have preferred to keep buried.

With a calm yet trembling voice, he revealed the painful reality to Adela.

“The only survivors were Han Si-hyuk and you.”

The blunt honesty of his words caused Adela to pause.

As Han taesu said, the only survivors were those two.

Adela frowned and questioned him.

“You’re saying one of us… will kill Siha?”

Han Si-hyuk didn’t seem to hate Han Siha enough to kill him.

In fact, he seemed to care for him quite a bit as a brother.

So that left herself…?

She couldn’t imagine a scenario in which she would kill Han Siha.

“Could the prophecy be wrong?”

Adela couldn’t help but think so.

Han taesu’s expression, however, suggested he thought differently.

A subtle anxiety flickered in his eyes.

‘The Seer’s prophecies are rarely wrong.’

The Seer was no ordinary fortune teller.

The Seer’s prophecies were often vague guesses, but they were eerily accurate when it came to their outcomes.

Han taesu, who had seen countless prophecies come true, couldn’t bring himself to nod at Adela’s words.

“…We can only hope.”

Han taesu slowly scrutinized the short-haired girl standing before him.

Adela was glaring at him, clearly uncomfortable under his gaze, but Han taesu didn’t blame her.

As Adela herself had pointed out, she could very well be the one to kill him someday.

She was capable of bringing down his entire family.

That she hadn’t yet was a testament to how much she was holding back.

Han taesu made a careful request.

“You must hate me.”

Adela gave no answer, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But—

“You can resent me. You can even put a sword to my throat. But…”

“….”

“Just don’t betray my son.”

Han taesu continued, his voice strained.

“I beg you.”

* * *

The underground prison of the Castica estate.

The dark mages who had caused chaos at the engagement ceremony were imprisoned here.

Once their fate was decided, they would be sent to the imperial capital.

Before that, there would be a brief interrogation.

And I would conduct it personally.

Step, step.

As I descended the underground stairs, a familiar face appeared.

A man slumped against the wall, his arms bound with ropes, panting heavily.

It was Semir, the original dark mage whose clones I had cut down multiple times during the battle. Now he was kneeling, helpless.

As soon as Semir saw me, his body trembled.

There was no fear in his fierce gaze, only a resolute determination, as if he were sacrificing himself for some grand cause.

Spit.

As I approached, Semir spat in disgust.

Tied up as he was, his defiance barely registered.

I met Semir’s eyes and asked,

“What were you thinking, pulling this insane stunt?”

Honestly, wasn’t it a suicidal mission?

“Did you think you had more than one life?”

Semir gritted his teeth at my words.

“Just… kill me.”

Other dark mages who had been captured alongside him were also tied up nearby.

Some had already died in battle, and the survivors were in equally poor condition.

I looked at each of them.

Simultaneously, a near-hysterical chorus of voices erupted.

“Kill me too.”

“Kill us!”

Semir’s defiant statement sparked the other prisoners, who began shouting as if their last hopes had been dashed.

“We won’t beg for our lives! Just kill us!”

“What?”

I couldn’t help but be baffled.

“You’re the ones who crashed an engagement to try and kill people.”

If it hadn’t been for Adela, I might really have died.

At the very least, I would have been dragged off somewhere and tortured for information about the Cube.

“Huh? All we wanted was to enjoy some classical music and hold hands during a proper engagement. And you lot barged in and wrecked it—why are you acting like I’m the villain here?”

I was the one who got ambushed, after all.

“Who’s really the bad guy here—me or you?”

“….”

Semir had nothing to say and clamped his mouth shut.

“Got nothing to say for yourself?”

Puffed-up pride, begging for death as if it were some grand gesture.

Attacking an engagement and assaulting nobles was a serious crime.

Even without the Emperor’s intervention, Han taesu had every right to deal with them himself.

Hell, I could handle it if I wanted to.

So there was no need for them to beg for death—they were going to die anyway.

I clicked my tongue and glared at Semir.

“You act tough for someone who’s never actually died.”

As someone who had been through it, it was laughable.

If they’d experienced death even once, they wouldn’t be so eager for it.

I mean, just one wrong death—

And you end up like me, stuck here, struggling!

I was lamenting my own misfortune when Semir finally spoke.

“We took this on, fully prepared to die. That’s why we speak this way.”

“Your job is to take lives while pretending to be willing to sacrifice your own?”

“…We never intended for blood to be spilled.”

Semir clarified that while they had indeed planned to attack the engagement ceremony and capture me, bloodshed was never their intention.

“My duty was to obtain the Cube, as ordered.”

In the end, it was all about acquiring the Cube.

But was it really worth risking their lives over a mere stone?

The power it held would eventually fall into the hands of Abaddon, the final boss of the first act.

So, what kind of conviction, what kind of purpose, drives them to be so obsessed with the Cube?

What was so appealing about that stone?

I scoffed at Semir’s words and asked, “What do you plan to do with the Cube?”

“We will create an equal society.”

“What?”

I was genuinely taken aback by his immediate response.

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

This was the first I’d heard of such an idea.

As far as I knew, the original purpose of collecting the Cubes was simple: to gain power.

To seek revenge for their defeat a decade ago and take control of the Ardel Empire.

“You seem serious.”

But Semir’s determined eyes were not lying.

At least, he seemed to believe what he was saying.

Abaddon intended to use the Cube to prepare for war.

There were no grand ideals of equality or justice behind it.

If ruling the entire world under him counted as equality, then maybe, but…

Semir’s words clearly held a different meaning.

He looked at me intently and asked, “What do you think is the purpose of nobles?”

“….”

“You can’t answer that, can you? Because there is none.”

Semir gritted his teeth, lifting his head defiantly. The other prisoners, too, shared his resentful gaze as they stared at me.

Now, it was clear why they had been so hostile the moment I stepped down those stairs.

“The world is full of people who were born with nothing but their bloodlines, enjoying their lives too easily. Doesn’t that make you sick?”

In , dark mages like Semir were never given a voice.

Their perspectives, their desperation, the reasons behind their actions—they were never illuminated.

They charged like moths to a flame, dying at Lee Han’s hands, their motives left unexplored.

The fact that I didn’t even remember Semir’s name meant he was just another faceless extra who had died in the background.

So, this was my first time hearing his story.

“People like you probably wouldn’t care if those like me were killed the moment we stepped out of line.”

“Yet no one faces consequences. Because it’s only natural, isn’t it? You were born into greatness, into nobility.”

I waited as Semir continued his tirade.

“How old do you think I was when the war broke out?”

“I don’t know. You look old enough that it’s hard to tell.”

“…I was younger than you.”

Semir had been fifteen when the war started and hadn’t participated in the fighting.

Neither had his father, who was also a dark mage.

But even so—

“The Empire rounded us all up. We ran for our lives. Whether we were guilty or not, life after the war was hell. We lived in hiding, and my family, who were captured, were all killed.”

“….”

“They hunted us relentlessly… until the Academy finally established the Necromancy Department a few years later. I was forced to attend. Do you know why that department even exists?”

Necromancy was forbidden by imperial law, both to learn and to practice.

It continued under strict limitations, and though some occasionally broke the rules, it still persisted.

But the real reason the department was created and maintained…?

Semir smiled bitterly and answered.

“It’s to monitor us.”

“It’s easier to keep an eye on us when we’re all gathered in one place.”

“Even children who’ve done nothing wrong… doesn’t that disgust you?”

Rooted in deep-seated discrimination, students in the Necromancy Department harbored resentment.

The divide between the Magic Department and the Necromancy Department was vast, and the two could never reconcile, even if the world were ending.

If this division had been orchestrated by the Empire itself, it was indeed a chilling revelation.

With renewed fervor, Semir continued.

“There is the Emperor, then nobles, then commoners, and beneath them, people like us. How can this society ever be equal?”

He gritted his teeth.

“This society labels us as evil.”

But—

“Isn’t it the Empire that made us this way?”

A person driven mad by conviction cannot be reasoned with.

Semir saw the Cube as salvation, clinging to it even in the face of death.

“This world was flawed from the beginning, so we’re trying to change it. Do you know why your brother, Han Si-hyuk, could never rise above his position as a mere academy professor? It’s because he’s an illegitimate son. Despite being wiser, stronger, and the Empire’s top Seer, he’s still stuck in some insignificant teaching position.”

“….”

“Your brother was a genius, but he will never surpass you. Not because of his abilities but because of his lowly birth.”

“….”

“It’s a pity, really. Tragic, even. But that’s reality.”

Bound in chains, Semir clung to his beliefs.

He ranted about how unjust the Empire was, how it had wronged people like him.

There was some truth in his words, but it also sounded like a desperate excuse.

I met Semir’s bloodshot eyes and cut him off.

“I agree with you to some extent. Humans are equal.”

“What?”

“In the end, we all end up six feet under.”

I’d heard enough excuses.

I smirked at Semir.

“But you know, if I were born in the Joseon era, I wouldn’t be saying that. It’s the kind of talk that would get you killed young.”

Semir looked puzzled, clearly not understanding my words, but I didn’t care.

I knelt to meet his eye level.

“Just because you rant doesn’t justify your slaughter.”

You claim to fight for justice while willing to kill anyone for the Cube. It’s laughable.

I challenged his so-called conviction.

“If humans are equal, why is my sacrifice acceptable? Why is your rebellion noble while killing me for the Cube is justified?”

“T-That’s…”

“What kind of justice is that? Can you even call it justice?”

Dusting myself off, I stood up and looked down at Semir.

His eyes, which had been filled with unwavering conviction, now wavered with confusion.

Or maybe he was desperately trying to deny it.

“To me, it’s nothing but revenge, not justice.”

“…!”

“So don’t call your revenge a conviction.”

Revenge justified becomes madness, spiraling into a disaster that can’t be undone.

As Semir’s face flushed with anger, ready to burst, I offered him a cold farewell.

“Alright, I get it. See you equally in the dirt.”

Han taesu would decide their fate, and I had no need to intervene further.

I was ready to leave this exhausting underground prison.

But before I did—

“Oh, one correction.”

Something had come to mind—something quite significant.

I pointed out a glaring error to Semir, who glared at me with wide eyes.

All that nonsense about Han Si-hyuk being superior to me because he was a genius but stuck because of his status.

…Seriously, what a joke.

“I’m better than Han Si-hyuk.”

Even if we weren’t true brothers, there was no hiding the irritation that lingered beneath my words.