The Villain Professor's Second Chance

"Professor," she said softly, her voice respectful but firm. Draven, who had been reviewing several floating documents, glanced up at her with his sharp, cold gaze.

"Yes, Yuli?" His voice was calm, yet there was a weight to it, the kind of authority that made even simple exchanges feel like commands.

Yuli took a breath, steadying herself. "Shall I notify the students ahead of your arrival? To ensure they're prepared?"

Draven's expression didn't change. His eyes flickered slightly as if he had already analyzed every possible outcome from that question. "There's no need," he replied, his voice as smooth and cool as ice. "Let them be unprepared if they wish. It will serve as part of their education."

Yuli nodded quickly, making a mental note of his words. Draven was never one for unnecessary formalities. Everything had a purpose, a reason, and he valued efficiency above all else. She stepped aside as he rose from his desk, his movement fluid and purposeful. Without another word, Draven exited the office, his presence leaving behind a lingering sense of authority.

Yuli, knowing her place, quickly fell in step behind him, though keeping a respectful distance.

Draven walked down the hallway, his long, dark cloak trailing behind him. His footsteps were silent but carried an unspoken weight that made those passing by turn their heads, offering nervous nods or hurried glances. The tower, usually alive with the bustle of students and professors, seemed to quiet itself in his wake.

___

Amberine entered the classroom, her grin stretching from ear to ear. She practically bounced as she walked through the door, unable to hide the sheer excitement bubbling up inside her. Life, for once, was going perfectly. It wasn't just the fame—although the whispers of her recent accomplishments hadn't gone unnoticed. Saving the Magic Combat Club from those three corrupted professors?

Yeah, people were talking, and they weren't holding back.

"Isn't that Amberine? The one who helped with the dungeonification thing?" someone whispered as she passed.

"She's gotten so strong! I heard she took down two of those corrupted professors herself!"

Amberine's chest swelled with pride. She was finally being noticed, respected. She had fame now, a good reputation, and—she glanced at her bag and the magical notebook she'd just bought—money. A lot of it. Being rich felt amazing, and she wasn't about to stop smiling anytime soon.

As she reached her seat, Maris was already there, waiting with a curious look on her face. "You seem like you can't stop smiling," Maris said, tilting her head slightly. Her soft voice, full of empathy, made it impossible for Amberine to resist.

Amberine plopped down next to her, beaming. "That's because I can't! Maris, I'm telling you, I've entered the best part of my life!"

Maris raised her eyebrows, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "Oh? What happened now?"

Amberine, unable to contain herself any longer, reached into her bag and pulled out her new notebook—a sleek, magical device that shimmered with enchantments. "This! Check it out! A magic notebook! Every page scrolls endlessly, and I can take notes for months without needing a new one. Plus, it's so much easier to review my spells and lessons!"

Maris's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow, that's incredible! It must've cost a fortune."

Amberine grinned even wider, feeling smug. "It did, but I can afford it now! No more rationing out my money or saving for weeks just to buy a basic notebook. I'm living the high life!"

Elara, who had been sitting quietly next to them, glanced over at the notebook with her usual calm demeanor. "Is that so?" she said, her voice cool and detached as always. She took a brief glance at the notebook, and Amberine immediately noticed the subtle shimmer of gold on Elara's own notebook—the exact same model.

Amberine's smile faltered for just a second. "Oh... you've got one of these too, huh?" She gave Elara a sideways glance, a tiny flicker of irritation sparking within her. "Of course, you noble types have had these forever."

Elara, always stoic, simply gave a small shrug. "It's efficient. Nothing more."

Amberine couldn't help but laugh internally, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "Well, I'm rich now too! No more struggling for me," she thought to herself, giving Elara one last glance. Even if Elara had always had access to all these luxuries, Amberine wasn't going to be left behind anymore.

Not with the sponsorship, not with her recent fame, and definitely not with her new sense of confidence.

She took her seat, glancing around the room. It was funny, in a way. Just a few months ago, Elara had told her outright to not sit so close, to not act too friendly. And now here they were, sitting together regularly, with Maris on her other side.

Maybe it was their shared experiences, the battles they'd fought together, or maybe it was just the shifting dynamics of their lives, but the distance between them had grown smaller. Elara, who once kept everyone at arm's length, didn't seem to mind anymore. And Amberine? Well, she was more than happy to sit next to someone as brilliant as Elara.

"Amberine," Maris whispered, leaning in a bit. "You're really doing well, huh? It's great to see you like this."

Amberine gave her a wide grin. "Thanks, Maris. Life's really turning around. I've got everything I need now. Fame, power, money—what more could a girl ask for?"

Maris smiled softly. "I'm happy for you. Just… make sure you don't get too carried away, okay?"

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Amberine laughed and gave Maris a playful nudge. "I won't. But hey, if I'm not carried away, am I even really living?"

The room around them buzzed with conversation, students chatting before class started. The mood was lighter than usual, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere that usually preceded Draven's lectures. But as Amberine glanced at the clock, her smile faded slightly. It was one minute before class, and she knew what was coming next.

A shadow passed by the window, a silhouette that sent a cold chill through the room. The figure outside walked with a precision that could only belong to one person. Even from a distance, the cold, calculating air that surrounded him was unmistakable.

The students who had been whispering and chatting moments before began to quiet down, their gazes flicking toward the door as the clock ticked closer to the start of the lecture.

The tension in the classroom was palpable. Amberine could feel it in the air, like the moments before a storm—a heavy, suffocating stillness. The students, who had been chatting animatedly just moments ago, now fell into an uneasy silence. All eyes were drawn to the large windows on the far side of the room. The silhouette of a figure, walking with such precise, deliberate movements, was unmistakable.

It was Draven.

Amberine clenched her jaw, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of her desk. The conflicted emotions inside her swirled into a mess she couldn't quite untangle. It was always like this when she saw him. Ever since he confirmed it—ever since he admitted to killing her father. That single word had torn through her like a blade: Yes.

The memory of it ignited a flame in her chest that threatened to consume her every time she thought of it.

But today… today was different. She was not the same Amberine she had been a few months ago. She wasn't the poor, overlooked student, struggling just to keep up with the rest. She was wealthy now—thanks to the mysterious sponsorship that had changed everything. And with her recent successes in combat, she had gained a reputation, a name for herself.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

She had power, and that power gave her the confidence to face Draven, to stand tall in his presence.

Still, as his shadow grew closer to the door, a knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach. It wasn't fear—no, she refused to be afraid of him—but something deeper, something she couldn't quite shake. Resentment? Rage? Maybe it was the knowledge that no matter how strong she became, Draven would always be one step ahead, always one level higher. He was a man who seemed untouchable, and that infuriated her.

She glanced around the room. The other students were fidgeting nervously, some pretending to flip through their notes while others sat rigidly, their eyes glued to the door. The whispers had stopped entirely, and the only sound left was the ticking of the clock on the wall, counting down the seconds to the start of the lecture.

Maris, sitting beside her, gave a small smile. "You'll be fine," she whispered, sensing Amberine's tension. "He doesn't bite. At least, not literally."

Amberine snorted, but the sound was forced. "Yeah, well, he might as well," she muttered. "Cold bastard."

Elara, sitting just on the other side of Maris, remained as indifferent as ever. Her face was an unreadable mask, her golden eyes half-lidded in that calm, detached way of hers. If Elara felt any anxiety about Draven's arrival, she didn't show it. Of course, she wouldn't—Elara, the prodigy, always had her emotions in check. Amberine often envied her for that.

Elara never let anyone see her struggle, never let anyone glimpse the chaos that might lurk beneath the surface.

For a moment, Amberine's gaze flicked to Elara's pristine notebook—the same model as her own, though Elara had probably owned hers for years. Amberine clenched her jaw again, the flicker of irritation sparking once more. I'm not going to be left behind, she reminded herself. Not anymore.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, crisp and measured. The clock ticked down to the final minute before the lecture was scheduled to begin, and right on cue, the door swung open with a soft creak. Draven entered, his tall, imposing figure silhouetted against the light from the hallway.

As always, his entrance was precise. His dark cloak billowed slightly with his movement, and the air around him seemed to chill as he stepped into the room. His eyes, cold and calculating, swept over the students like a hawk surveying its prey.

His gaze lingered only for a fraction of a second on each face, but it was enough to make everyone sit up straighter, as though his mere presence demanded perfection.

Amberine felt her heart pound in her chest. She refused to look away, meeting his gaze head-on when his eyes briefly passed over her. For a moment, she could have sworn his stare lingered on her just a heartbeat longer than the others, but his face betrayed nothing. If he recognized her anger, her defiance, he didn't show it. He never did.

The room was silent. Not a single student dared to speak as Draven walked with fluid precision to the front of the classroom. His steps were quiet, yet each one seemed to echo through the room, amplifying the tension.

Right as he reached the front of the room, the clock struck the exact second the lecture was scheduled to begin. Draven stopped, turned sharply to face the students, and fixed them all with his signature icy stare. His expression was as unreadable as always, but his eyes were sharp, assessing.

"Attention," he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of authority. "We will begin the lecture."