I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!
Chapter 189 - 189: Message (2)

Gideon, who had very deliberately skipped over the part where Adlet had labeled him a "dog," pressed on with the message, his voice steady as he continued relaying Adlet's words.

"Now, as everyone must know, the Academy organizes an Orientation Ceremony every year for all the new First Year students entering the institution.

I am sure we all agree that the Orientation Ceremony itself is already a grand welcome by the Academy. Even after the event, students are granted a full day to roam the Academy's facilities freely—and let's not forget, the food is free."

Gideon paused for a moment, scanning the silent crowd, before continuing, his tone almost rhetorical.

"So, I don't understand the very point—why, after such a grand welcome, is another welcome party being hosted in the Aether Dormitory? Does the Aether Dormitory consider itself a separate existence from the Academy? Or"—he let the word hang just long enough—

"Are the Second and Third Years, by giving a welcome party on top of the Orientation Ceremony, trying to prove that they are a greater existence than the Academy itself?"

The courtyard grew tense again. Gideon gave a slight shrug, as if absolving himself of the words, before concluding that part of the message.

"So, this is my very first reason for not attending a place where the students of the Academy are considering themselves greater than the Academy."

The moment the final words left Gideon's mouth, a heavy silence descended over the area like a blanket dropped from the sky.

The Second and Third Years, who had still been chuckling under their breath at Valencia's expense just moments ago, now turned toward Gideon in disbelief.

Their expressions shifted, some with widened eyes, others with furrowed brows, as if struggling to grasp the full weight of what had just been said.

Though Gideon had merely served as the messenger, everyone present could feel the impact of the words he'd delivered.

The tone, the phrasing—it carried a precision that was impossible to ignore.

To the Second and Third Years, Adlet's message wasn't just defiant—it was surgical.

His words had been carefully and logically crafted to paint them as the enemies of the Academy itself, as though their actions were an affront to the institution's very authority.

Wrapped in reason, the accusation hit with the force of conviction.

For the First Years, however, Adlet's declaration took on a different weight.

It wasn't merely an excuse—it was a clause, a ready-made justification that could be wielded against the pressure to attend.

Gideon scanned the stunned faces of the upperclassmen, catching the quiet storm brewing behind their silence. He smiled inwardly, keeping his face composed.

'No matter what Mr. Special says to me', he thought with amusement, 'he really does make everything more interesting.'

Since no one dared to say a word, Gideon took it as his cue to keep going, raising his voice just enough for everyone to catch every word.

"My second reason for skipping 'such a place'—time," he announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"This is the Academy! The place where talent and hard work are supposed to be the top priorities.

I'm pretty sure every single one of my 'highly respected' seniors at that party must really value their talents… after all, they have sooo much free time to waste on decorating the compound, arranging food, and planning parties instead of, you know, actually training."

A few upperclassmen shot each other uncomfortable looks.

"Now, since these busy seniors are so committed, why didn't the Fourth Years—or even the rest of the Second and Third Years—bother to show up?

Are they throwing a 'You're Not Welcome' party?

Or is this just their fancy way of bullying the First Years?"

The crowd shifted, the tension thickening.

"But here's what I'm pretty sure of: those who skipped are probably using every single second to get stronger and better. Meanwhile, some others," he glanced around with a smirk, "are just standing around laughing and chatting away their time like it's a vacation."

He gave a confident shrug. "So, taking inspiration from my Fourth Year seniors and all those non-attending upperclassmen, I don't have time to waste on this... well, let's call it a very enthusiastic party."

As Gideon delivered his words, he kept a close eye on the face of the lead Third Year.

The poor guy's facial muscles were tightening like a rubber band about to snap, and veins were popping out on his forehead like someone was trying to win an unspoken contest for "Most Annoyed Senior."

And it wasn't just the lead Third Year who was boiling.

The other Second and Third Years were fuming too, though they tried hard to keep it under wraps.

After all, even though Adlet's message was aimed at the Fourth Years, the real message was crystal clear:

"Unlike you all, I don't have worthless time to waste, so I won't be attending."

Pretty straightforward.

But here's the kicker—since Adlet claimed he was taking inspiration from the Fourth Years and the seniors who didn't attend, no one could exactly shout out their anger without feeling a bit silly.

The reason? Simple.

Nobody really had any control over the Fourth Years at the Academy.

No one even tried.

Most of those seniors were off doing quests or buried in research anyway. Plus, everyone knew that graduation was just around the corner—why would they waste precious time at a party?

And deep down, everyone understood this one truth: life outside the Academy wasn't exactly easy as a picnic.

"As for my last reason," Gideon declared with a smirk, "I don't like cheap food and soft music. Next time you organize such a party, make sure there's actually a valid reason behind it—and don't send messengers like the brainless fool who's hosting this one. I don't accept invitations from meaningless messengers."

With that, Gideon ended Adlet's message.

Loen shot a knowing glance at Gideon, aware that Adlet hadn't finished over there

'Tell them if they dare send a dog of a messenger next time, I'll slam the gate right in their faces—just like I'm about to do now,' he remembered Adlet words.

And then, true to form, Adlet simply slammed the gate shut on them.

Valencia's expression was something no one in the courtyard wanted to witness—a storm of fury and humiliation.

She hadn't even wanted to come to this party in the first place, but now?

She'd been insulted not once, not twice, but three times, including being called a 'brainless fool.'

Even though the harsh words were aimed at the host, wasn't she the host?

Valencia's head hung low, her hands clenched into tight fists so hard that her knuckles turned white.

The only thing holding her back—besides her sense of discipline and the strict Academy rules—was the difference in years.

Otherwise, she might have already drawn her sword right then and there.

"Hoho! Junior, you've got quite the mouth on you," the leading Third Year said with a sly grin. He placed a heavy hand on Gideon's shoulder and began to slowly apply pressure.

However, as the Third Year's grip tightened with growing impatience, Gideon coolly tilted his shoulder, effortlessly slipping the heavy hand away.

His voice remained calm but firm, laced with a hint of defiance.

"Senior, I already gave you the disclaimer—though the voice is mine, the words belong to Adlet. So if you have any problems, take them up with him. I'm just the messenger, and I delivered the message with your permission."

The leading Third Year's frustration simmered into barely contained anger.

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tight, veins throbbing at his temple. Logic and reason had worn him down—by now, it hardly mattered.

"By the way, Junior," he said through gritted teeth, a dark edge creeping into his voice, "what's Adlet's room number?"

"Senior, why would you ask the Ro—" Leon started to interrupt, urgency in his voice, but Gideon was faster, cutting him off effortlessly.

"It's 444," Gideon stated plainly, his tone steady and unapologetic.

Leon shot Gideon a sharp, almost accusing glare—as if he had just betrayed an unspoken code. Gideon, however, remained unfazed. He gave a casual shrug, as if daring anyone to care.

"Good. 444. Right," the Third Year muttered under his breath, his voice low and heavy with intent. He pivoted sharply to one of his closest friends, his eyes cold and calculating.

"Bring me this Adlet from his room. I want to see the depths of his so-called 'inspiration,'" he said, each word dripping with a mix of curiosity and simmering disdain.

His companion grinned darkly, a sinister snicker escaping before he turned and strode purposefully toward the First Year Building, the weight of the task clear in his steps.

All the First Years present couldn't help but watch the senior's imposing figure as he disappeared inside.

Moments later, the floating platform hummed softly as it carried him swiftly to the fourth floor.

The compound was tightly enclosed by dorm buildings on all four sides, allowing every student gathered below an unobstructed view.

They saw the senior, now seeming smaller as he stood before a door near the elevator.

He stood there motionless, like a storm about to break—his posture rigid, his gaze dark and unwavering, as if daring Adlet to answer the challenge waiting behind that door.

Normally, Valencia would have stepped in to stop this nonsense—the situation was spiraling dangerously out of control. But even she couldn't deny her curiosity.

She wanted to see, with her own eyes, the face of this Adlet who had the audacity to call her a 'brainless fool.'

KNOCK!

KNOCK!