Black Fog and the Vendetta
The adrenaline surging through me at the sight of the Black Fog was palpable in real time.
I never imagined the president would pull out the Black Fog here of all places.
As I slowly reached out and touched it, the item's information popped up before my eyes.
Grade: Relic
Type: Shoes
Shoes crafted from the footwear once worn by Iljimae, the legendary phantom thief of old. Completely silences footsteps when equipped and significantly reduces the user's presence. Allows mid-air steps more than twice, with a 30% agility boost.
Black Fog.
In the game, it was a staple item for assassin builds or archer concepts.
There were two ways to get it: buying it from the black market in mid-game, or joining the academy student council early on and becoming the president's disciple.
As a relic, it offered solid base defense plus killer extra effects, making it one of the top-tier shoes in the game.
The unexpected gift had my lips twitching upward, but I masked my excitement and spoke flatly.
“...This was something you used back in the day, sir? It's far too precious. I feel burdened even thinking of accepting such a treasure.”
Pure bullshit, of course. I wanted to snatch it up and bolt out the door right then.
But any Korean worth their salt knows you turn down the first offer.
Now that these shoes were on the table, I'd decided I was getting them no matter what.
“I deemed you worthy, so take it. Consider it the considered judgment of this old man.”
“...If you insist that strongly, how could I refuse?”
I said that, closed the box, and casually set it by my side.
I'd planned to politely decline up to three times, but with him pushing so hard, accepting was the disciple's duty.
Perfect timing too—I'd been shoe-less.
“I'll make good use of your gift today. Thank you truly.”
“If you do, that's thanks enough for me.”
At that moment, the phone on the president's desk blared to life.
“...Pardon me. With the academy in this state, it might be urgent.”
I wasn't clueless about the situation, so I nodded.
The president approached his desk slowly, picked up the receiver, and stood silently listening.
He hung up, turned to me with a gentle smile.
“The Association's agents are here to take the captured villains. No major issues nearby, so once the students get home safely, we're good.”
Meaning everything Ji Suhyun mentioned before I came was resolved.
“Then I'll head out—duties await. Hope to see you again soon.”
He approached with a bow; I stood, tucked the Black Fog box under my arm, and returned it.
“Thank you so much today. I'll be off.”
“Haha, the thanks are mine. Safe travels.”
Back in class after the meeting, the kids were fiddling with their phones, bored out of their minds.
“President says we can go home.”
Like a horror flick, every eye snapped to me—including Ji Suhyun's.
“For real?!”
“...Yes. He mentioned it while heading off to hand over the villains. Broadcast should come soon.”
And right on cue, the speakers crackled.
Announcement from the faculty office. Announcement from the faculty office. All students currently at the academy, please return home safely. Repeating...
The broadcast hit the class, and kids shot up, prepping to leave.
Their synchronized scramble was mesmerizing.
“No detours, everyone! Straight home—your parents are worried!”
“““Yes, ma'am!!”””
Ji Suhyun's reminder got an instant chorus.
These kids were dead serious about heading home.
I had plenty to handle too—explanations at home included—so I geared up to leave.
“Boss, what if we get tomorrow off too? That'd be sweet.”
One guy chuckled, dreaming only of more free time.
“Even off, you'd get dragged to mentoring. That fun?”
“Ack.”
He'd clearly forgotten.
“Same for me, pretty much...”
My eyes flicked to the message hovering in my peripheral.
Knowing his personality, not here out of worry...
Looked like mentoring hell for me too.
“Catch you later.”
Light goodbyes to the others, then out of the main building.
Amid the homebound crowd, one guy stood out in odd attire: pure white fedora, parting the masses.
Gwak Chunsik.
“Elder, what's with the hat?”
“Ha, for a guy who locked up villains, you look surprisingly intact.”
“...Can't you see my uniform's shredded, so I'm in a suit?”
“Thought maybe dress code got liberalized or something. Kekeke.”
He wiped tears from booming laughter.
“Rough estimate, it'll cost a fortune. Miner dude dumped dirt on you again, huh?”
I nodded; he howled again, nearly choking.
“Aigoo. Uniform only thing torn? Must've been high-end stuff. Lemme see... Huh? 'per l'Imperatore?' This... Maestro-made?”
Spotting the quality, his eyes widened.
“You know it. Yeah, Maestro made it.”
“Ha! Figures, rich kid wearing a skyscraper. Heh heh.”
“You've got savings—commission one yourself.”
“You punk! A real man faces the world bare-handed! Besides, Maestro ain't that idle. Reservation now, you'd get it when I'm dead!”
...Really? He made mine on the spot.
“Anyway, came escorting villains, heard about you, checked in. You're good—relief.”
Chuckles, then he gripped my shoulder warmly.
“You did good, Eugene. Saved the kids. On behalf of the useless Association that did jack, I apologize.”
...Why so many thank-yous today? Got awkward.
“I'll squeeze a reward from the Association if I have to wreck it. My disciple pulls this off? Gotta pay up.”
Reward?
Thanks were meh, but rewards? Hell yes.
“Elder. Make it good.”
“Huh? Krhahaha! Punk. Don't worry. Think I'd settle for cheap crap? Best I can snag! Hahaha!”
With that, he left after greetings.
Busy with Villain Union terror probes, sure... but did he know? This was just the opening skirmish.
“Plenty of time left. Gotta get stronger meanwhile.”
Home, and as expected, the mansion was in uproar.
“You okay?”
Father, Parnello, and the consigliere waited as I stepped from the car.
“Told you I was fine.”
“Words don't ease worry.”
Consigliere looked drained—probably grilled nonstop by Father.
“I'm good. Sorry for the worry.”
Father just shook his head, pulled me into a hug.
“No worries. Your Vendetta is Calione's Vendetta.”
“...Pardon?”
Vendetta. Italian for revenge.
But in Calione terms, it meant something heavier.
'Retribution you stake your life on.' A destined oath.
Glancing around, the mansion felt different: Soldati patrolling with heavy arms, action teams assembling cars in the lot.
Parnello spoke as I stared.
“Consigliere pinpointed a suspected Villain Union hideout. Heading out with funds at the fore.”
“...Father leading personally?”
I gaped at him.
“My kid caught in terror? Of course I step up.”
Soldati alone? Fine. Father? Full-scale war declaration.
“Villain Union is now Calione's enemy.”
His call was ironclad.
“Then I'll prep too.”
Calione's will was my command.
But Father eyed me like I'd lost it.
“You worked hard—rest. Told Alesia and staff; sleep it off. The rest... Father handles.”
Shoulder pats, then he strode to the lot silently.
Familiar sight—from game war scenes.
Mansion chilled, yet fervor built like inner flames.
A dark emperor's march.
Parnello and Soldati followed.
Villain Union kids... really done for?
Cold moonlight slipped through curtains into a modest apartment, cool breeze from the open window.
A man stirred his tea leisurely, grinning ear to ear.
Knock knock. Presence outside.
He stopped stirring, turned.
“Come in.”
Door clicked open.
“Plague. Intel: Calione and his hounds heading here.”
Tall blond foreigner entered, chuckling like it was hilarious.
“Oh, Calione? Figured it out already?”
“No way. We haven't even started.”
“Right? So why move?”
Spoon clinked again.
“Didn't poke Calione yet... just hit the academy so far?”
“Via Miner?”
“Yeah, flopped fast. Met our goal of greeting gov and Association, though... Fun intel, though: first-years crushed Miner and crew in the terror...”
Spoon halted.
“Bloody Clown.”
“Yes, Plague.”
“Dig into those kids. Who, what skills.”
“On it.”
Plague sniffed his steaming black tea, gulped it down, then chucked cup and spoon at the window with a playful smirk.
“Time to move?”
“Leave a hefty gift?”
“Of course. For Calione guests, gotta be generous.”
Twitch.
Bandages around his face writhed.