I Possessed a Broken Academy Instructor - Chapter 96



Chapter 96

While Jin Crow lay unconscious, the interests of nations tangled sharply, a web of intrigue and conflict.

But was it only that?

In truth, the situation in Mercato was so rife with chaos and noise that Jin Crow had little to worry about in terms of rumors or scandal.

“The Red Hand was involved. That is a clear fact.”

“Sterro Mer? …He was hardly a positive figure as a human. How should I put it? He was self-righteous, brimming with his own convictions.”

“I’m merely a middleman. I have no ties to this incident.”

Immediately after driving the creatures from the main sectors, the Empire and the Synthesized State’s first action was to relentlessly track down and interrogate those connected to the Merc Corporation and Black Mer.

Typically, cases fell into two categories.

If deemed merely administrative or of little relevance, they were quickly released after a brief inquiry. But for close aides or the superhumans of Black Mer, it was different.

“……The chairman was insane. There wasn’t a single aide who didn’t know that. Why didn’t you think to resist? Why should I?”

“As long as the money was good, that was all that mattered. Nothing more.”

“For a deserter, there was no paradise like this. Damn it all…”

They were subjected to intense scrutiny, and when deemed necessary, violence and threats were added to the interrogation.

Though it may seem puzzling to outsiders why such measures must be taken, that is merely the perspective of the ordinary.

The threshold of pain that the superhumans can endure transcends imagination.

If a blade were to pierce the abdomen, breath would falter, vision would blur, and one would weep in the face of the encroaching agony; yet, the superhumans would nonchalantly draw the knife and staunch the wound with bandages.

It is common knowledge that extracting a blade embedded in flesh is perilous, but what of it?

Psyonic energy shields them from further injury while simultaneously healing their wounds.

In other words, if one wishes to elicit a satisfactory response from the superhumans, torture is but a mere icebreaker.

Of course, that was not the entirety of the matter.

The soldiers of the Empire and the Synthesized Nation found themselves in a rather anxious predicament.

‘We must secure a definitive lead.’

‘Only then can we impose more leashes upon the Free Planet Alliance.’

It was a matter of politics, but also of survival.

Naturally, the soldiers stationed nearby bore no guilt in this affair.

In fact, upon realizing the situation had escalated, they hastily rushed to rescue their compatriots.

The issue lay in the overwhelming focus of attention.

– Casualties on the Empire’s side: approximately 200 million.

– Casualties on the Synthesized Nation’s side: approximately 700 million.

The misfortune of one becomes the fodder for another’s incitement.

The true truth holds no significance.

What matters is that if something arises that can be wielded to attack the opposing faction, it is the role of politicians, the media, and humanity to exploit it.

“It is truly regrettable. That proud and noble citizens of the Empire should perish so wretchedly in that vile land. A most lamentable affair indeed.”

“Isn’t this all due to the incompetence of the Imperial Army? Even if the Holy Guard Knights always aim to protect the royal family…”

In the Holy Galactic Empire, the aristocratic faction of the Imperial Council consumed this as a fine justification to pressure the royalists and the Imperial Army.

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In the Human Synthesized Nation, this served to stoke the underlying hatred for other races, becoming excellent material for propaganda proclaiming ‘Humanity is Great’ and ‘Militarism.’

Yet, that was not all.

This incident was entangled in far more complex political, economic, and military issues than the common folk could fathom.

“For the first time since the Great War, the three nations gather at the negotiation table.”

“Three nations, you say. Is there truly any strength left in the Free Planet Alliance?”

“The Geumyoung Group and the Zenolua Family stand ready. Cunningly, while we struggled to wrap up our rough patch, they tidied up the Council and sorted the shares of Mer Corporation, the Interstellar Transport Union, and Carpe Diem Entertainment.”

“Tch, it does not sit well with me.”

“Ah, such are the vulgar capitalists. To mix with those wretched other races is proof that humanity has forsaken its purity.”

Like the conversations of diplomats from the United Human Synthesis Nation, later eavesdropped and exposed by the press, Geumgang Hyuk and Tita Zenolua moved with great urgency beneath the surface.

Mer Corporation.

Interstellar Transport Union (ITU).

Carpe Diem Entertainment.

To seize those interests, they kidnapped, coerced, and imprisoned shareholders faster than either the Empire or the Synthesis Nation, adjusting shares multiple times, and further filled the vacant seats of the Council with their own, establishing a true two-person dictatorship.

As a result, the Free Planet Alliance, contrary to the expectations of other nations, emerged at the negotiation table with a semblance of ‘temporary’ title, having restored its administrative power.

Of course, this time, they would not be easily brushed aside.

“To miss such an opportunity would be foolish. The Empire and the Synthesis Nation both.”

It had become somewhat clear that this was no mere raid, but a disaster born of the Red Hand and Stero Mer joining forces.

With that thought, Jin Crow, left alone in the hospital room while Ner went for a brief examination, set down the book he had been reading and pulled out a black cigarette, placing it between his lips.

Sizzle—.

The flickering light from the old lighter danced at the corner of his mouth, where he forced the familiar, loathsome smoke deep into his lungs, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his knee.

“…….”

How long did he stare blankly at the swirling gray smoke, like a mirage?

From beyond the ruins he had been gazing at, he suddenly caught the flash of headlights, and as if waiting for this moment, he rose from his seat, brushing his hair back lightly.

“You keep me waiting.”

The air was chilly.

He donned his black coat, extinguished the half-burnt cigarette in a portable ashtray, and stepped out of the hospital room.

“Sir, where are you going?”

“Just a short walk. Do not accompany me.”

“But…….”

The guards, visibly troubled, knew they could not refuse Jin Crow’s words.

It was not just rank; these guards had witnessed him rush to the fallen comrades in this foreign land the moment he rose from his sickbed.

“……Understood. Please do not be too long. Loyalty!”

Though there was hesitation about disobeying the orders of the Ideale School’s headmaster, the guards saluted sharply and succinctly.

Jin Crow accepted their salute and silently strode down the corridor, his steps leading him outside the hospital.

As he emerged, a bleak wind and air greeted him.

The sky was thick with darkness, and between the cracked concrete lay hardened pools of blood, the unclaimed flesh of creatures, and the ruins of buildings crumbling all around.

Truly, this must be what an apocalypse looks like.

How long would it take to restore this?

Unable to bear it any longer, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, casually making his way toward the direction where the light had flickered moments before.

Thud, thud—.

The heavy sound of military boots filled the dark street, and finally, as he reached the dimly lit streetlamp, he heard a voice.

“I apologize for being late.”

A man in a black suit, with a chestnut-brown coat and a fedora, stepped out from the shadowy alley, removing his hat and bowing politely.

He then met Jin Crow’s gaze and added, “The Matriarch wishes to see you.”

“Go.”

His voice was indifferent, flat.

The man in the fedora nodded and courteously opened the back door of a black sedan parked to the side.

It was an escort that would have felt burdensome had he not been accustomed to such treatment, but Jin Crow was different.

He calmly took his seat in the back.

The man in the fedora climbed into the front passenger seat, and the driver, who had been waiting, gripped the steering wheel tightly, his voice betraying his tension.

“We shall depart.”

This time, no response was needed.

He merely nodded.

Vroom—.

At last, the sedan carrying him set off, followed closely by other sedans that had been idling with their lights off, escorting him like shadows.

In the spacious back seat, he crossed his legs nonchalantly and lit a new cigarette.

Occasionally, the flickering lights from the ruins brushed against the window, casting a glow on his pale cheek.

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Yet, his eyes were sharper than before, a clarity that contrasted with the darkness beneath them. What lingered in his gaze was something akin to—

‘Tita Genolua. You must have much to offer me.’

It was a kind of anticipation.

*

There is but one place where Tita Genolua could be found.

The grand mansion, the stronghold of the Jerunoah family.

It was only natural.

This place had long served as a storied safe haven for the bosses of the Jerunoah family, a symbol of their legacy, now stripped of its former grandeur.

‘Especially now, it is a time to assert authority.’

Was it not just a moment ago that the name Jerunoah nearly transformed into Anubis?

Regardless of the circumstances or tales that lay beneath, the facade was always paramount for the sake of preserving the organization.

Especially when lurking in the shadows.

Thus, the mansion presented itself in a far more pristine state than Jin Crow remembered.

Perhaps it was to be expected.

To establish authority, one could not simply leave the bodies of their own brethren to rot, not even if they were creatures of the night.

Creeeak-.

As he approached the grand mansion, a mobster in a fedora opened the car door for him.

Jin Crow extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray and stepped out into the world beyond the door he had been granted.

But in that very moment.

“All regular members of the Jerunoah family.”

He glanced at the line of black suits standing along the garden path and let out a quiet scoff.

“I greet the Consigliere.”

Each man removed his fedora, placing it over his heart, bowing slowly.

Living in the shadows, yearning for the light.

As a child, he had been a pickpocket, and as he grew, he grasped the Mercato typewriter, a submachine gun, in his hands.

Dressed in black suits, wandering the back alleys of the city, no matter how lavish the meals stuffed into their bellies or how fine the suits they wore, they remained wretched, vulgar gentlemen—an irony of another kind.

With this image etched in his mind, Jin Crow slowly raised his gaze to the terrace of the mansion.

“You have come.”

There stood Tita Jerunoah, clad in a suit that matched her long, dark hair, a cigar clenched between her teeth.

“My Consigliere.”

The new matriarch of the Jerunoah family awaited him.