The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 109: Ethan’s Study Class [7]

Ethan Caldwell. C+ Rank. Monster Insect Tamer.

Nothing about him stood out—at least, not at first glance.

Mild-mannered. Polite. The kind of guy who blended in with the crowd. Most people barely remembered his face after a conversation.

But that was the trick.

That was exactly how he wanted it.

Because once you looked past the surface, things started to twist. And at the center of it all was his trait:

[Insects’ Educator]

It sounded laughable at first. A talent that didn’t work on humans. Useless in most combat situations. Not flashy. Not powerful.

But that trait wasn’t about raw power.

It was about control.

It gave him the ability to communicate with, influence, and "teach" monsters—specifically, insect-type monsters. He could guide their instincts. Redirect their aggression. Shape them over time like a teacher molding students.

And the ones that survived?

They became... something else.

Something far worse.

That millipede in the room, for example—it wasn’t born like that.

Ethan had raised it.

Taught it.

Trained it.

Tamed it.

And it adored him in the same way a rabid dog adores its master: loyal, unrelenting, and ready to maim on command.

It was the same with the dozens of others he’d bred in secret, deep in the bowels of the academy where no one ever checked. Ethan didn’t just summon monsters. He educated them. Groomed them to serve his twisted version of order.

And this classroom?

This wasn’t some one-off incident.

This was lesson number one.

"Discipline through fear," Ethan whispered to himself, watching Rin stand protectively in front of Keira.

He tilted his head, studying the younger cadet, his smile beginning to fade.

"Why do you insist on ruining my curriculum?" he muttered, just loud enough for Rin to hear.

Rin didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

His stance said enough.

And something about that made Ethan twitch.

For the first time, he felt like the student being challenged.

----

Rin’s POV

"Why do you insist on ruining my curriculum?" Ethan muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

Honestly? Fair question.

Did I even have a proper answer?

Not really.

But did I owe him one?

Absolutely not.

So I just stared back at him and kept my mouth shut.

Meanwhile, the giant millipede twitched and inched further back, trying to put more distance between itself and the thing in my hand. All thanks to the green magic stone embedded in the little repellent device.

Ethan’s smile faltered, ever so slightly. His eyes narrowed.

"I didn’t know tools like that even existed."

"Really? It’s surprisingly effective, right?" I shrugged, casually. "You should be careful next time. Though I doubt there’ll be a next time, villain."

That word made something flicker across his face—amusement, maybe? Or irritation.

Didn’t matter.

What did matter was that this thing worked.

Enhancement.

My talent wasn’t flashy, but it was ridiculously useful. I could enhance anything—tools, weapons, people. Even a half-broken training sword, if I needed to.

And right now, I was channeling my primal Qi through the tiny gadget in my hand, flooding it with just enough energy to turn a cheap mosquito repellent into a monster deterrent.

It was weird, I won’t lie.

My first real fight, and here I was, holding up bug spray like a holy relic.

But hey—it worked.

"You always were strange," Ethan said, his smile returning, colder this time. "Rin Evans. You never felt like a student to me."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Those cold, calculating eyes... Always watching. Always thinking. Suspicious of me, even though I showed you nothing but kindness." He tilted his head, his voice lowering. "You didn’t behave like a normal cadet. No curiosity, no fear. Just... distance. You’re like an adult. One of them. The kind I hate."

There it was. The real Ethan.

I could hear the venom in his voice now. The loathing that pulsed underneath all that charm and false cheer.

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

"You’re right," I said. "I’m not like the others."

He raised a brow. "Oh?"

"I don’t believe in pretty lies. And I sure as hell don’t sit quietly when some lunatic starts feeding kids to monsters in the name of education."

The room fell silent again.

The millipede hissed, sensing the tension.

Ethan let out a low chuckle, quiet but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

"Then what will you do, Rin Evans? Save them all? Save her?" His gaze flicked toward Keira, who was still standing behind me. Her fingers were clenched around the hem of her shirt, trembling so badly I could hear the fabric rustle.

He took a single step forward.

"And what happens after that?" he said, voice soft and steady like a scalpel. "Do you really think you can escape from here? That I’ll just let you leave? Before you even try, I could kill every single one of you."

The centipede beside him hissed—an awful sound that echoed off the stone walls.

I glanced down at the device in my hand. The faint green glow from the core had already started to flicker.

One minute left. Maybe less.

Enough time?

Probably not.

But I couldn’t afford to think about that now.

Ethan was still watching me, his expression relaxed, almost curious. Like he was watching a mouse try to outwit a cat.

Then he chuckled again, tilting his head slightly. "I have to say, Cadet Rin Evans... you’re quite the actor. You almost fooled me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped.

He smiled wider. "You’re scared, aren’t you?"

"What?"

He leaned in slightly, like he was letting me in on some secret. "Do you know your voice is trembling? Just a little. And the corners of your mouth twitch when you talk—like you’re trying too hard to keep that smug little smile."

My jaw tightened.

...Damn it.

I was scared.

No matter how much I postured, no matter how calm I tried to sound—he saw through me. All of it.

Of course I was scared.

How could I not be?

This was real. A real monster. A real madman. Real stakes.

I was standing between a group of terrified students and something that didn’t care if we lived or died.

I glanced at Keira again. Her lips were pale, and she looked like she was barely holding herself together.

To think this was the girl who used to sneer at me in the hallways.

Now she looked like a ghost.

Would I still have stepped in if it had been someone else? Someone who didn’t hate me? ...Yeah. I think I would have.

Because right now, it wasn’t about her.

It was about what kind of person I wanted to be.

Ethan’s voice cut through my thoughts. "Interesting. A child pretending to be an adult. So brave. So foolish. You say you’re not afraid, but every part of you screams the opposite. You came in here bluffing with a glorified bug repellent, trying to play the hero."

He took another step toward me, his hands still behind his back.

"We were just talking about youth and sacrifice, weren’t we? Well then, Cadet Rin Evans..." He gestured grandly, the smile never leaving his face. "Would you like to take Keira’s place?"

My stomach clenched.

He said it so casually.

Like he was offering me a seat at the table. Not a death sentence.

"Sacrifice?" I repeated, my voice sharper than I expected.

"Yeah. Sacrifice," Ethan echoed, eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. "Wouldn’t that be poetic? A last-minute savior becoming the martyr instead. Tell me, Cadet Rin Evans—why don’t you take that place?"

I felt my jaw tighten.

Then I smirked, even though my mouth twitched at the edges. "Why don’t you take that place, if you’re so in love with the idea of sacrifice?"

Ethan let out a soft, entertained laugh—low and smooth, like I was a child saying something funny without realizing it.

"Oh, Rin. I’ve already sacrificed so much. My time, my career, my sanity..." He gestured to the writhing millipede beside him, its countless legs clicking and scraping against the stone floor. "It’s only fair I start collecting returns."

The millipede shifted, agitated by the weakening enchantment. Its antennae swayed violently in the air, tapping at the invisible boundary. I could hear the faint hum of the repellent struggling to hold, the magic stone’s light dimming.

Shit. One minute and Thirty seconds, maybe.

Keira was still behind me, and I could hear her breathing. Sharp and fast, like she was trying to stop herself from sobbing. Her presence was a weight—heavy, but grounding in a strange way.

I didn’t know why I’d come running for her. I didn’t like her. I didn’t forgive her. But maybe... just maybe... no one deserved this.

Ethan took a step forward.

Then another.

He moved like a teacher still walking the aisle between desks, like this was all part of some carefully written lesson plan.

"I wonder what drives you more, Rin—righteousness? Or guilt?" he mused. "Or are you just a fool trying to be a hero for an audience that doesn’t care?"

"I’m not trying to be a hero," I said, voice low.

"Then what are you?"

"I’m someone who doesn’t want to stand by and watch people get eaten alive just because someone like you is bored."

Ethan paused.

Then his smile slowly faded—not completely, but enough that something shifted. His amusement slipped, just for a breath.

"...You really think you’re different from them, don’t you?" he murmured. "But you’re not. They cried and begged, and now they hide behind you like cowards. And you? You’re bluffing with a half-dead toy."

He was right. I was bluffing.

The pest repellent in my hand was buzzing with unstable energy now, flickering weakly. The low-grade magic stone wasn’t made for monsters like this.