I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!
Chapter 191 - 191: Gift(2)

Frederick raised a brow, the faintest trace of amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Oh? A Welcome Party?" he repeated, voice laced with mocking curiosity. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

He gestured lazily toward the scene beside him where a Third Year was frozen by his mana control and then below at the compound, his smirk growing.

"Because no matter how I look at it, all I see are First Years surrounded by Second and Third Years, like lambs herded into a circle... while one of your number puts on a brilliant performance—trying to kick down the door of the First Year Dormitory."

The silence that followed was damning.

The Third Years shifted uncomfortably.

The Second Years tried not to breathe too loud, everyone making sure that they were not Frederick's target.

The leading Third Year student clicked his tongue in quiet frustration, a gesture hidden beneath a composed exterior.

He hadn't anticipated Frederick's sudden arrival, now—there was little room to maneuver the situation in their favor.

No matter what explanation he offered, the outcome was already skewed toward whatever conclusion Frederick had in mind because who could go against him.

Still, that didn't mean he wouldn't make an attempt.

"Teacher Frederick," he began, his voice level but edged with urgency, "why would we have any reason to rob anyone? We're all part of the prestigious Aether Class. And not to mention—it was the First Year who used magic on his door. If he hadn't done that, my friend would've had no reason to respond with Aura."

"So, you start by blaming your Juniors for self protection now."

Frederick responded and he raised one hand and, with a faint shimmer of light, summoned a large, leather-bound book from the glowing Storage Ring on his finger.

The book landed with a heavy thud in his palm.

The air grew tense as he flipped through its aged pages, the rustle of parchment echoing through the otherwise silent hallway. His lips moved in a quiet murmur.

"Let's see… Room 440, 441, 442, 443..." His finger stopped. "Ah, here it is—Room 444. Registered under a First Year named Adlet." His eyes narrowed, a scoff escaping his lips. "No wonder. It's that scamming brat."

The Third Year student flinched ever so slightly at the sound of Frederick's voice uttering the name Adlet. A chill ran down his spine.

'How does Frederick recognizes a First Year's name? He's never once paid attention to any of student in our classes…' The realization unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Frederick snapped the thick book shut with a sharp thud, the sound echoing in the tense silence of the stone corridor.

His gaze shifted to the Third Year, eyes glinting with amused disdain as he wore a crooked, mocking smirk.

"Hey, idiot," he said casually, the insult slicing through the air like a whip, "what's the definition of robbery or theft?"

The Third Year clenched his fists tightly behind his back, the muscles in his jaw tensing. Being called an idiot in front of First Years—his juniors—was a humiliation he hadn't prepared for.

Still, he said nothing.

"One of your comrades is caught breaking into someone's room while the owner isn't there," Frederick continued, his tone cold and deliberate, "so tell me—how is that not theft? Because from where I'm standing, I don't see Adlet anywhere among you."

The words hit like a blow.

The leading Third Year's eyes widened slightly as pieces began to fall into place in his mind.

The timing.

The setup.

The First Year's actions…

'This was all a trap from the start', he thought grimly, the full weight of realization sinking in. Adlet had anticipated their every move—planned it all with precision.

The First Year hadn't missed the party by chance—it was a deliberate choice.

Every move, from his absence to the carefully worded message sent afterward, had been calculated to provoke a response.

And it had worked.

He, driven by pride and irritation, had acted exactly as he had predicted—sending someone to confront him at his dormitory.

In hindsight, the Trap Magic placed on the gate wasn't just a defensive measure; it was a net, meticulously prepared in anticipation.

Now, standing in the quiet tension of the compound, the leading Third Year's mind raced to piece it all together.

The sting of realization settled in his chest.

Frederick's sudden appearance made sense too.

A veteran mage like him would have immediately sensed the surge of conflicting Mana and Aura within the dormitory grounds.

And with the First Year nowhere inside his room, their presence could only be interpreted one way: as a break-in.

The Third Year's expression hardened. He knew the Academy's policy— disputes between students were often overlooked.

Clashes of ego, harsh words, dominance of Physical strength and then weren't uncommon in a competitive environment.

But this was different.

The combined use of Mana and Aura within student housing was a direct violation of Academy rules.

And what looked like unauthorized entry into another student's room? That edged into criminal territory.

"Since the Academy has a rule of not intervening in conflicts between students, I chose to remain silent—even though I was well aware of what you Senior Years were doing,"

Frederick's voice thundered across the corridor, now amplified with a surge of Mana. His composed tone was sharp with fury.

"But I never imagined you'd twist that rule into a license for tyranny—using your seniority to oppress those beneath you. Is that what you've learned in your two years at this institution?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

Neither the Second Years nor the Third Years dared to speak. Their gazes dropped, their stance rigid beneath the weight of his words.

Frederick's eyes scanned the group with open disappointment. His voice dropped, but the disdain in it cut even deeper than before.

"Well, I never held high expectations for most of you idiots anyway," he said coldly. "But to think you would be among this crowd of failures—Valencia—"

He turned his gaze to the girl standing near the back of the group.

Her head was lowered, shoulders drawn inward, as she didn't speak, didn't look up.

But Frederick's words struck her like a blow.

"Truly a shame," he said bitterly, "especially for someone in the Aether Class."

"Hah…" Frederick let out a low, disappointed breath before speaking, his voice now edged with cold disdain.

"Even the Sword Emperor was once a student at this very Academy—but he was nothing like you."

"He didn't earn his title through empty words or prestige. While others wasted time with excuses and distractions—just as you're doing now—he was out there training, day and night."

Frederick's tone darkened, cutting deeper.

"Perhaps you inherited his blood, and maybe even some of his talent with the sword—but you clearly lack what's necessary to carry on his mantle. Talent alone doesn't make a legacy."

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

"It's not my place to dictate your future," he continued, "but if you hold the position of Student Council Vice President, then the very least you can do is honor the responsibilities that come with it.

If you cannot even fulfill that role with integrity—then resign. No one here is interested in keeping someone who turns a blind eye to crime. This Academy has no place for thieves."

His final words carried no anger now, only cold certainty.

Whatever favor he once held for her was gone.

Valencia stood motionless, her head bowed in silence.

Shame burned beneath her skin, her fists trembling faintly at her sides.

Only now, as Frederick's voice faded into the tense stillness, did she begin to understand the depth of her mistake.

Blinded by anger—provoked by mere words—she had allowed herself to justify a fellow student forcibly entering another's room.

Her silence had not been neutrality.

It had been complicity.

In supporting a Third Year's actions, she had unknowingly endorsed a crime.

'Don't tell me… all of this was part of Mr. Special's plan?' Gideon's thoughts churned with disbelief as he stared blankly at the unfolding scene.

The very idea that Adlet—without even being physically present—could orchestrate such an outcome was unsettling.

He tried to piece it together, but no explanation seemed sufficient. 'Just what kind of monster is he?'

Roan's expression of full of thought 'If he really left that message after predicting every single move the third years will make… then I have no words', he thought grimly. The image Adlet portrayed himself and how he acted was truly… beyond reason.

Behind Adlet's arrogance, Roan was beginning to see something entirely different: a cold, calculating strategist hiding behind an unassuming face.

Meanwhile, Elara's mind raced ahead of the others. She didn't need anyone to spell out the consequences. Her instincts were sharp, and she could already sense the shift in atmosphere.

'No… No! If this continues, Adlet will end up creating an unshakable position for himself within the class', she thought with growing alarm.

She could almost hear the thoughts of their peers—whispers of admiration, curiosity, even fear.

'If he keeps maneuvering like this, he'll establish a superiority none of us will be able to challenge.'

And the worst part? He hadn't even needed to lift a finger today.

"I have to say, aside from this group of disappointments, that scammer brat is quite ingenious," Frederick remarked, his eyes narrowing as he studied the faint remnants of Mana swirling around the gate.

"Placing an Impact Abortion Spell—a defensive enchantment designed to trigger a Thunderbolt upon activation—combined like this, it creates a clever Trap Spell. A brilliant fusion of two very different schools of magic."