I Possessed a Broken Academy Instructor

Chapter 56

He did not draw the longsword he had favored until now; instead, he clutched the dagger in a reverse grip, an act that felt more instinctual than intentional.

‘The distance is roughly 30 meters.’

The alley was just wide enough for three burly adult men to squeeze through. He had already spat out the last of his cigarette with a “ptui-,” and now, with his vision sharpened, he stared straight ahead.

Creak!

As soon as the command from the middle-aged man with the umbrella rang out, a mechanical sound echoed from the knee of the man in the suit, and almost simultaneously, Jin Crow engaged the inner triple gear.

‘It’s certainly lacking compared to the Pentacle, but the stability is definitely different.’

While the Pentacle felt like it was receiving an insane amount of mismatched electricity in a short burst, this felt like a steady supply of just the right capacity.

Even if the analogy was not quite fitting, the result remained the same.

The strain on his body had significantly lessened.

‘Now that I’m in the thick of it, I understand.’

His thoughts shifted.

It seemed he would need to establish a means of contact before leaving this planet.

To do that, surviving came first.

‘It’s coming!’

Without any grandiose roar or dizzying display of technique, the foe simply kicked off the wall and soared through the air in a rush.

Following the trajectory, a blue light traced a long line in the air, and a brutish hand that seemed ready to burst his head open loomed, covering his vision in an instant.

‘Left, three steps.’

Yet Jin Crow did not falter.

Whether it was the encounter with the Pentacle gear that had bolstered his courage, or if the drug had calmed his mind and body, he could not say for certain. But one thing was clear.

‘Now!’

Clang!

He deflected the sharp wires scattered by the foe with his dagger, ducking to evade the mechanized hand that sought to pierce him.

In that instant, he planted his feet firmly on the ground, twisting his waist to target the abdomen, but the blow was met by the shoulder. Then, as if sensing something amiss, he cast a glance at the cyborg, who had drawn a blade hidden beneath his hand, and whispered just low enough for him to hear.

“It’s over.”

The cyborg’s blade aimed for Jin Crow’s throat, yet he had already plunged into the foe’s embrace, swinging the dagger he had seized in a counterattack.

Surely, not even a minute had passed.

But considering the flurry of exchanges that had transpired in that brief span, it was truly an astonishing reaction speed.

Yet that was all.

“Unbelievable…!”

And that was the last voice the man would utter in his woeful life.

Rustle, thud—

Thud, thud…

From the gaping wound, something white, tinged with a hint of crimson, splattered across his face, but the thickening rain quickly washed it away.

“Haah…”

Jin Crow, with his throat severed, left the lifeless body of the man behind and swept his drenched hair from his eyes.

As his long hair was tossed back, the pale, impassive face that had been hidden was revealed, and Miller, confirming the cold gaze that showed no trace of remorse despite the killing, bit his lip and spoke.

“…Surely, Consigliere, there was no hitman like you. A freelance mercenary, perhaps?”

“I’m an academy instructor.”

“Bullshit.”

Jin Crow had spoken the truth without realizing it, but naturally, Miller, thinking it a deception, could not hide his discomfort.

Yet that too was merely a form of deceit.

‘The opponent is a superhuman, or a cyborg. Then…’

Having coldly calculated, he drew the gun he had tucked away and aimed it without hesitation at the traitor leaning against the wall.

And the moment he pulled the trigger—

Bang!

“Guh!”

With the gunshot echoing through the alley, Jin Crow swiftly closed the distance and severed the man’s wrist.

The hand that had held the gun tumbled through the air, spraying blood, but this time, Jin Crow had no choice but to acknowledge that he too had taken a hit.

“Cough! Gurgle!”

The man he had sought to save groaned in agony, a bullet lodged in his chest, while the middle-aged shooter, despite having lost an arm, grimaced and quickly thrust something into his thigh before bolting down the alley.

And Jin Crow was sharp enough to discern that it was some sort of painkiller mixed with adrenaline, unable to fathom the depths of the man’s resolve.

‘Could it be, even in that moment, he would shoot this man?’

Jin Crow hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to pursue, but the issue lay in the man’s condition, slumped against the wall, which was far from good.

Ultimately, after much deliberation, he decided to offer the groaning man a single stimulant he had purchased on the first day for price-checking purposes.

“Cough!”

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t reluctant, but now that they were entangled, it was clear he needed to gauge the situation.

In response to his thoughts, the man’s complexion gradually paled, yet he made an effort to twitch his dry lips.

“…Who, cough, are you?”

“A mafia?”

At the tentative question, the man slowly nodded.

In Mercato, no matter how dark the alley, there was only one family that could kill without hesitation.

“Genolua.”

“…Yes, cough. That’s right.”

At Jin Crow’s low mutter, the man nodded again, then slowly pushed his hand into his coat, retrieving a small square object.

“Cough! Please, deliver this to Messina Pub… Hah.”

The man’s request was a tangled mix of hope and anxiety.

It was only natural.

Even if this person had saved his life, entrusting something so crucial to a complete stranger was a heavy burden.

But there was no other way.

“Please, the reward… from the Consigliere…”

Though there were no dry coughs or groans of pain, his gradually closing eyes and the chilling coldness of his body spoke volumes of his condition.

‘He’s been rained on too much, and he’s lost too much blood.’

Moreover, the last bullet had pierced his chest precisely, so it was fair to say that the brief exchange was possible only due to the stimulant Jin Crow had given him and the man’s sheer will to survive.

Jin Crow, amidst the encroaching cold, briefly met the man’s desperate gaze, then, with a short sigh, accepted what was offered and said, “Rest.”

“…Thank you. I…”

At last, the man’s head drooped, and Jin Crow, under the cold rain, stared at him as he began to harden, then pulled out a Black Star cigarette he had been smoking before.

Sizzle, hiss-.

As Jin Crow’s lighter spun, the tip of the cigarette glowed red, and after taking a few puffs, he reached out and placed it gently between the man’s slightly parted lips.

Then, he picked up the black umbrella he had thrown before the fight and placed it over the man’s head before stepping out of the alley.

He immediately hailed a taxi parked on the street.

“Welcome, sir. Where shall I take you?”

Jin Crow, shaking off the moisture clinging to his shoulders, lit a cigarette in response to the question from the driver—a knight with skin the color of dark earth and eyes that were nothing but black voids.

“To Messina Pub.”

“Understood. But, guest.”

In that moment, the taxi driver, gripping the wheel in silence, cast a fierce gaze into the rearview mirror and spoke.

“Smoking is prohibited inside.”

“Ah.”

For a brief moment, Jin Crow was taken aback by the words, but soon realized the folly of his actions. With a slightly flushed face, he quietly extinguished the cigarette in the portable ashtray.

*

The Zenolua Family was a rather peculiar organization.

While the term “melting pot of races” often referred to America, in this world, it denoted the Free Planet Alliance.

How many species existed in the galaxy?

And how many sentient beings could truly be called “people”?

Most of them lived as colonists on planets belonging to empires or synthetic nations, yet, being sentient, they could not escape ambition and desire.

And for them, there were two choices.

To serve the state that ruled their respective races, or to start anew in a place where freedom was guaranteed.

And that place, amidst the vastness of the galaxy, was solely the Free Planet Alliance.

—Keep it free!

If one were to include not only those officially registered with the Free Planet Alliance but also the undocumented immigrants, the number of different races would easily surpass hundreds of billions.

Naturally, there was no reason for the various factions not to utilize them.

But the Zenolua Family was different.

“They only accept humans. Most of their followers are human as well, and they are exclusive to other races. But it’s not entirely incomprehensible. In the early days, there were so many hate crimes against humans.”

The Human Synthetic Nation, originating from Earth, had been invaders who trampled countless races over the past two centuries.

So, in those early days, how likely was it that those who had migrated from the colonies could forget the wrongs done to them by humans and live together in harmony?

“Don’t even get me started. I’ve heard from my father that when a riot broke out, the number of dead humans was in the thousands.”

And it was then that Arthur Zenolua, a young wealthy man, gathered his family, friends, and even formed a vigilante group to protect a neighborhood.

He called himself the patriarch, defended the humans, adopted orphans, and absorbed other vigilante groups, returning the armed heads of households to stabilize society.

“And that was the beginning of the Zenolua Family. The intention was noble, of course. These days… well, it’s large.”

Having said that much, the taxi driver cleared his throat lightly, as if there was nothing more to be gained from further discussion, and addressed him.

“You seem to be an outsider; don’t get involved with them. They might not kill you outright since you’re human, but just because you were born with good intentions doesn’t guarantee that it will remain so.”

In contrast to his first impression, the taxi driver was kind and possessed a knack for storytelling. Jin Crow nodded in acknowledgment of the driver’s concerned advice before stepping out of the taxi.

A moment ago, he took a single drag from the cigarette he had to extinguish, now bringing it back to his lips as he gazed at the shabby sign located on the outskirts of Sector 17, murmuring softly.

[Messina Pub]

“Messina Pub.”

A name that feels somewhat classical.

Leaving that brief reflection behind, he discarded the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground and stepped inside, where the warm air, unlike the chill outside, brushed against his cheek, accompanied by the classic chime of a bell.

“……”

The interior was quite quiet, with no cacophony of hyper-pop to assault the ears; instead, a gentle melody played without lyrics.

Inside, there was only a woman with long black hair, sipping coffee and reading a paper, and the bartender.

He scanned the surroundings for a moment before addressing the young bartender, who was busy polishing a glass at the bar.

“Manhattan. Hold the garnish.”

The bartender glanced at him, then set down the glass and asked, “It’s pouring outside; I take it you’ve lost your umbrella?”

“I brought it with me.”

Jin Crow confirmed that there were no no-smoking signs anywhere, pulled out a Black Star, and lit it.

“And?”

“I came to pay my respects to a dying friend, leaving a little something for the journey along with the cigarette.”

At Jin Crow’s words, the bartender momentarily fell silent, but soon began to mix the Manhattan he had ordered with an air of nonchalance.

Yet, the effects of the cigarette still coursing through him made Jin Crow acutely aware.

He felt the woman’s gaze, who had been quietly reading her newspaper, land upon him, and he noticed the bartender’s muscles tense more than necessary.

Tap-.

The bartender placed the drink, unadorned with a cherry as per his order, in front of him. Jin Crow took a sip, rinsed his mouth with the water beside him, and said, “I’ve come to find the Consigliere of Genolua.”

And in that moment.

Click-.

As if waiting for this very moment, the bartender lifted a shotgun from beneath the bar, aiming it at Jin Crow’s brow, while the woman, still holding her coffee and newspaper, pulled the cigarette slightly away from her crimson lips and spoke.

“I am Tita Genolua, the Consigliere of Genolua. And you are?”

Under the dim light, dressed in a white shirt and suit, wearing a fedora, she took another drag from the same Black Star as Jin Crow, crossing her legs and exhaling smoke.

“A victim caught up in your affairs.”

Meeting her gaze, Jin Crow placed a small rectangular object he had been holding onto the bar top, responding, “I’ve come to file a claim for damages, Mafia.”

The bartender, upon hearing his words, gazed at Tita Genolua with a look of disbelief, and she, after a moment of staring at Jin Crow, burst into laughter.

“Now I see, you are not a customer, but a creditor.”

And that was quite a delightful murmur.