The Mob Character Who Woke Up!-Chapter 54: House of Axiom (1)

Kaizen buried his forehead deep in his palm and shook his head slowly, his messy silver hair falling over his eyes like a curtain of pure regret.

’Man, even when I supposedly know the plot and the world settings, I am still batting a thousand on terrible decisions.’

It was almost comical at this point. Destiny wasn’t just a river carrying him along, it was a toilet bowl, and Kaizen was circling the drain no matter how hard he swam against the current.

He had somehow survived a D ranked boss encounter, a brutal mountain trek, successful tax fraud negotiations, and constant harassment from main characters, only to willingly walk into a literal shack that smelled like a brewery mixed with poor life choices.

Mr. Finch was currently shaking the Professor vigorously by the shoulders. It looked significantly less like waking a respected mentor and significantly more like trying to resuscitate a large, expensive bag of flour that had given up on life.

"Professor! Please! Vital signs! Show me some vital signs!"

After a solid minute of aggressive shaking that would have given anyone else a concussion, the man sprawled on the table finally groaned and lifted his head slowly.

Kaizen frowned deeply because this whole situation was unfair. It was actually illegal in some countries. Even with drool visibly on his chin, hair that looked exactly like a bird’s nest after a hurricane, and eyes that were completely bloodshot like he hadn’t slept in a week, Professor Ezekiel Xavier Mortimer was devastatingly handsome.

He had the sharp jawline of a storybook hero and the elegant cheekbones of a theatrical villain. His whole face screamed Unserious in bold letters, yet somehow he managed to look like a GQ magazine cover shoot for an article titled Bad Decisions Weekly. And not to mention, this guy looked goofy despite all that.

It was the complete opposite of every other S-Ranker Kaizen had heard about. They all wore serious and regal faces while this guy looked like he’d just woken up from a three-day bender.

S-Rankers were treated like living gods. They were kings among men. In a world where fifty percent of the total population couldn’t even successfully light a candle with mana, an S-Ranker was essentially a walking nuclear deterrent.

They were universally revered and deeply feared. Most of them usually floated three inches off the ground just to avoid touching the same dirt as peasants. And here was a man who apparently had it all, overwhelming power, good looks, high status, and he had decided to trade it all for a permanent hangover.

Kaizen stared at the slumped figure.

’What is genuinely wrong with this guy? Did he min-max his stats and put absolutely zero points into Sobriety?’

"Mmm? Is it already the morning? Is the accursed sun daring to assault my retinas again with its offensive brightness?"

Mortimer mumbled while blinking his heavy eyelids and waved a hand dismissively through the air.

"Is it perhaps time for the Selection Ceremony already? Well, it doesn’t particularly matter, does it? Heh heh. Like always, absolutely nobody is going to join this useless path. We are the appendix of the Academy, Finch. Completely useless and prone to painful inflammation!"

He giggled with a posh, aristocratic sound that somehow seemed expensive.

"Now, where is daddy’s god ichor? Where is the precious nectar of forgetfulness?"

His half-closed blue eyes scanned the cluttered low table with the precision of a hawk spotting a mouse in tall grass. He locked onto a dark blue hip flask hidden strategically under a stack of journals and parchments and grabbed it eagerly.

"Aha! Salvation!"

Kaizen couldn’t help but notice that even in this utter state of decay, the man spoke with an elegance that made Klaus sound like a street urchin. The voice was smooth and posh, the kind of voice that belonged to a man who could convince you that jumping off a cliff was a sound investment strategy.

Mr. Finch looked like he desperately wanted to cry and leaned in close.

"Professor, please! Put the flask down! The gods haven’t forsaken us this year! We actually have a student! A living, breathing human student! Please greet him before you face plant again!"

Professor Mortimer squinted hard and looked at Finch like the assistant had just spontaneously sprouted a second head made entirely of cheese.

"Finch, my dear boy, I have told you repeatedly not to drink on the job. Even if there are bottles lying around everywhere, which I categorically deny, you are strictly forbidden from partaking. Look at you now! Spouting complete nonsense before noon!"

He took a long, desperate swig from the flask with audible gulps before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Ahh. Spicy water. Essential for the soul."

He pointed an accusing finger directly at Finch.

"Kid, we already have a terrible reputation in this academy because of your supposed eccentricities with alcohol. Why must you make it significantly harder by hallucinating students? If you continue seeing people who aren’t actually there, I shall have to send you to the infirmary for a proper sanity check."

’Man, what is genuinely up with this guy?’ Kaizen screamed internally. ’It’s not Finch who has the drinking problem! You’re the one pickling your own liver! You’re gaslighting your assistant in real-time!’

Kaizen stared at the floor and sighed heavily.

’I signed up for this. I willingly put my name on the paper. I am the architect of my own destruction.’

Mr. Finch didn’t argue back. He was clearly used to this gaslighting routine. He simply sighed deeply, grabbed the Professor firmly by his shoulder, and physically rotated the man’s entire body so that Mortimer was facing the other side.

"Professor, meet Kaizen Renji Asahina. He is your new student. He is your only student. Please acknowledge his existence before he runs away screaming."

"Huh?"

Mortimer blinked and traced the line of Finch’s pointing finger. His eyes landed on a boy in a wrinkled uniform, holding a backpack, wearing an expression of profound judgment. Mortimer froze with the flask stopped halfway to his mouth. He blinked once, then twice, and rubbed his eyes vigorously.

"Holy damn. You aren’t hallucinating? There is actually a small person standing there?"

He leaned forward and squinted at Kaizen like he was examining a rare bug. Then he leaned back toward Finch and raised a hand to his mouth in a whisper that was clearly audible to everyone in the room.

"Finch, is he perhaps mentally compromised? Is he retarded? Why is he here? Did he get lost on the way to the Fire Tower? Should we call his caretakers?"