I Possessed a Broken Academy Instructor

Chapter 97

Passing through the corridors of the mansion, which bore a distinctly antique and medieval style even by 21st-century standards, he made his way to Tita Jerunoah’s office.

The hallway was so meticulously cleaned that it rendered his previous stroll through blood and corpses almost a distant memory.

Yet, the lingering scent of blood and gunpowder remained.

As I tread, shadows sway behind me, brushing against my nose.

‘Is it because I am a superhuman, or is it…’

Perhaps it is because I have seen too much blood.

At some moment, I may have become aware.

The self of Jin Crow has kept him from crumbling, yet he is gradually becoming buried.

‘Like a swamp.’

A swamp, in its essence, lies in wait at the crossroads where humans once wandered, silently anticipating its prey like a flat expanse of land.

At first, the ankles are slowly submerged.

In the gluttonous mire that devours flesh, a man struggles to escape, flailing desperately.

But in the end, he only sinks deeper.

Ultimately, he will draw his last breath in that quagmire.

‘There is no turning back.’

It was not a path chosen by desire, yet he had no choice but to move forward.

The moment he halts, two endings await.

To be devoured by the monster named Doom that follows, or to slowly breathe and wither away.

Sizzle.

He placed a cigarette between his lips.

Then, he opened the door to the office and stepped inside.

“Welcome. Should I now call you Instructor rather than Mercenary Jin?”

Inside, Tita Genolua, who had been waiting for him, spoke softly from the chair where Lucky had once sat.

Jin Crow walked forward.

With each step, the smoke from the cigarette traced a path, and soon, as he sank into the somewhat dark sofa of the office, he flicked ash into the ashtray before speaking.

“Consigliere, how perplexing.”

“To you, it may be a trivial honor. When you think about it, it’s amusing. They offered money and fame to a soldier of the Synthetic Nation, no less, to the instructor of the esteemed Central Special Operations Academy.”

With her characteristic long black hair cascading down, she lit her black cigarette with the candle placed before her, letting out a soft laugh.

Even if it was merely a suggestion made under the impression that he was a capable mercenary with a story, it was still amusing.

Perhaps that was why.

She added with a feigned self-deprecating smile.

“It’s the utmost respect I can offer. If you dislike it, feel free to refuse.”

“Respect, is it.”

At last, Jin Crow, buried in the depths of the sofa, listened silently to her words before letting out a soft chuckle.

“Well, I’d say the drawbacks outweigh the benefits. It feels more like a leash, to be honest.”

A faint, chilling smile lingered at the corners of his mouth.

Had it been shortly after his possession, he might have marveled at the respect shown by the men in suits, feeling a swell of pride.

To be recognized and to earn loyalty from someone.

That alone could make one’s heart race.

Yet, he had endured too much to make decisions based solely on fleeting emotions.

“Why do you think I played the part of that ridiculous mercenary? It wouldn’t be wise for either of us if our connection as instructors were to come to light.”

His words were undeniably true.

At first glance, it might seem as though she was merely trying to exploit Jin Crow’s weaknesses, but in truth, it was more akin to shackles binding them together.

“Interfering in the internal affairs of another nation, collaborating with criminal organizations, and even becoming one of their leaders? No matter who my enemy is, they couldn’t find a better weakness to strike at. On the other hand, the Zenolua family…”

“Would provide a perfect pretext for the synthetic nation to truly meddle in our affairs, and naturally, the Geumyeong side would seize the opportunity to covet our interests.”

The three leaders who had sustained the committee had vanished.

Originally, Tita Zenolua and Geumganghyeok had intended to place their own people in those vacant seats.

If the two tried to swallow the remaining factions, they might burst from the strain.

But the situation had changed.

The most feared strength of Black Mer had been halved by this incident, and even those who could be considered the brains of the organization were mostly being interrogated by the Empire and the synthetic nation, effectively stripped of their influence.

Other organizations were not much different.

The size had shrunk to a manageable level, and foreign powers were encroaching without a moment’s pause for conflict.

“This matter was also agreed upon by Geumganghyeok. They promised to appoint a torturer to minimize the noise.”

Far from opposing Tita Zenolua, there were even more agreements to be made, leaving Geumganghyeok with no choice but to concede.

However, upon hearing Tita’s explanation, Jin Crow easily discerned the sinister intentions of that mixed-blood elf.

‘They must have taken a larger share or secured some other benefit.’

As much as he hated to admit it, Geumganghyeok was quite the capable businessman.

Even if he had to compromise immediately, it was hard to believe he would do so without any gain.

‘But, I can’t refuse.’

What is a Consigliere?

Simply put, it is an advisor, a counselor.

At first glance, one might dismiss it as mere desk work or look down upon it, but the authority it holds is anything but low.

What does that imply?

“I can project my influence onto the Zenolua family. The Geumyoung Group is no different.”

If one dreams of a peaceful and comfortable future merely as a soldier, it matters not whether they accept it.

No, it would be wiser to refuse.

For if entangled in any way, they would inevitably find themselves the subject of gossip.

The issue lay in the potential of the Free Planet Alliance to become a formidable force in future battles against the Creatures.

“Though they were adversaries in the original tale, Baek Hwi-young surely felt a pang of regret. Had they united from the onset of the war, perhaps a better outcome could have been achieved.”

He ground the last remnants of his cigarette into the ashtray, extinguishing it.

There was no room for choice.

Even knowing it was a poisoned chalice, he had no option but to drink.

With that thought, Jin Crow turned to meet the steady gaze of Tita Zenolua, who awaited his response.

“What is the price?”

“Ah, that’s more like you.”

She let out a casual laugh at Jin Crow’s answer, and in that moment, he felt a surge of certainty.

Tita Zenolua had not made such a choice merely out of human affection.

“Is that so? I am but an insurance policy.”

For now, it appeared that the Geumyoung Group and the Zenolua family were joining forces, but how long could that last?

In the end, Geumgang Hyuk and Tita Zenolua were bound to step on each other to rise.

“The problem is that their strengths have become too similar.”

Originally, the business scales of the Geumyoung Group and the Zenolua family were comparable, but in terms of financial power, Geumyoung was overwhelmingly dominant.

It was unavoidable.

While the Zenolua family operated mostly in the shadows, Geumyoung had extended its reach into the underbelly.

But now, things had changed.

By distributing the shares of the factions that had lost their masters, the Zenolua family had laid a solid foundation to step into the light, and in the process of swallowing the byproducts of Black Mer, their strength would only grow.

The clash of these two equal forces was an inevitable civil war.

Thus, the choice made by Tita Zenolua and Geumgang Hyuk was to select Jin Crow as their mediator.

“You are far too perceptive. It’s hard to believe you’re just an instructor.”

He refrained from voicing his suspicions, yet Tita Zenolua recognized from his reaction that their agreement had been uncovered, and she conceded.

There was no shame in it.

Business was, after all, just that.

“You’re being too kind.”

Jin Crow did not care much at all.

Rather, like before in the car, he found it far more comforting to engage in a transaction where both parties gained something, rather than wallowing in the seduction of beauty.

Ssshh-.

They both lit new cigarettes simultaneously.

In the softly lit room, a thick haze of smoke swirled, and Tita Zenolua held the payment she had been waiting for between her lips.

“I’ve already deposited the commission we discussed into your virtual account. It’s been cleaned up nicely.”

Jin Crow nodded.

Then, Tita added,

“All we have right now is money. So if you take the position of the torturer and mediate for us, we will pay you accordingly.”

She slowly rose from her seat.

The cigarette at the edge of her lips trembled with her movement, and her characteristic coldness reflected in her dark pupils as they fixed on Jin Crow.

Finally, she approached him, sinking into the sofa across from him, and spread her five fingers wide.

“Each month, this much.”

Fifty million dollars a month.

A salary that would suffice for a decent worker.

Combined, that’s one hundred million dollars a month.

It was certainly not an insufficient offer, so Jin Crow nodded, extinguishing the half-burned cigarette in the ashtray as he spoke.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

“…Alright.”

They had exchanged all the words they needed to.

Of course, they could share trivial stories based on the bond formed through this experience.

But there was no real reason to do so.

Intense negotiations were already taking place behind the scenes among ambassadors from various countries, and there was nothing Jin Crow could contribute to that.

Knowing this, Tita Zenolua gazed for a moment at his departing figure before swallowing a sip of the drink left on the table.

“…How cold.”

She swallowed the bitterness that lingered at the corners of her mouth.

She wanted to share more stories, to engage in conversations that were human rather than business.

But he left, as always, drawing a thorough line between them.

“A luxury, perhaps. This feeling.”

Tita Zenolua suddenly chewed on the absurdity of her emotions and rose from her seat.

In the shadowed throne where once sat my father, I now bury myself, a self-flagellating Lucky Anubis.

Only now do I truly feel it.

To sit in this place demands a certain resolve, a willingness to cast aside what once was.

“It’s lonely, Uncle Lucky.”

She murmurs this absentmindedly, her gaze lingering on the spot where Jin Crow had departed.

Tap, tap…

Only the softly crackling fireplace on one wall whispers to her, as if offering solace.

*

On the outskirts of the Free Planetary Alliance.

In a slum of Sector 23.

Shwaaa…

The woman stepped into an alley that clearly bore the marks of poor security, wandering nearby as if retracing memories, before finally knocking on the back door of a house.

Knock, knock.

A brief rap, and from beyond the iron door, a presence stirred, followed by a low voice.

“Who are you looking for?”

“I’ve come to find my sister’s husband.”

“What’s his name?”

“Manhattan.”

At last, the door creaked open, and she quickly scanned the surroundings, confirming no one followed her before stepping inside the building.

She walked behind the guard down the corridor.

After two turns and descending about half a flight, the familiar sounds of jazz and laughter began to drift toward her.

“Well then, enjoy your time.”

The guard offered her a brief nod before returning to the door, and she moved toward the bar table as if it were second nature.

“A Godfather, please.”

She carelessly draped her rain-soaked outer garment over the chair beside her.

The tall bartender, silently polishing a glass at her order, quietly retrieved an on-the-rocks glass.

He poured in the Disaronno first, then added the square-cut ice.

Finally, after pouring in the whiskey, he inquired softly.

“How about cinnamon?”

“That’s fine.”

The scent of cinnamon was not unpleasant, but on a damp day like today, it held little allure.

Tap-.

I brought the glass offered by the man to my lips and took a sip.

Only the soft strains of classical music occasionally broke the bar’s silence, and the woman, without a word, tilted her drink before leaving behind the payment and a note.

“……”

The bartender, wiping the glass with a black linen cloth, calmly held the money and note together, brushing back his damp hair with slightly wet hands as he made his way to the back door.

Creeeak-.

The rusty metal door groaned in protest as it opened, revealing two men in black suits waiting outside.

In the dark, rain-soaked alley, the men in black suits stood before him.

For an ordinary bartender, fear would be a natural response, but he merely glanced at them briefly before speaking.

“It’s hard to say that the Hound has resumed its activities.”

He handed the note to the men.

“So far, only one has been confirmed.”

He added quietly.

“Jin Crow, that’s all.”