Villainous Instructor at the Academy
Chapter 159: Guaranteed disaster

Chapter 159: Guaranteed disaster

Three days.

That was the deadline I gave them.

Three days to come up with a festival project proposal that wouldn’t immediately get us banned from all future Academy events.

It was day one, and morale was already collapsing.

In the empty classroom after hours, I watched from my desk with morbid fascination as my students tried—and failed spectacularly—to brainstorm like normal, functional people.

"Okay, hear me out," Julien said, standing on a chair like a demented preacher. "We set up a dueling booth! Visitors can pay to challenge one of us! Winner gets a prize!"

"What’s the prize?" Mira asked, eyebrow raised.

Julien grinned. "The satisfaction of losing to us."

There was dead silence.

Even Garrick, who once tried to arm-wrestle a tree for dominance, looked unimpressed.

"I think that might get us sued," Wallace pointed out, fiddling with a mechanical doodad that looked suspiciously explosive.

"Especially if we actually win," Felix mumbled.

I tapped my fingers on the desk, amused.

"Go on," I said sweetly. "Tell me more about how you want to hospitalize visitors during a family-friendly festival."

Julien wilted slightly.

Mira took over next, flipping her notebook open dramatically.

"I have a better idea," she said. "An illusion maze. Layers of traps, puzzles, and fake-outs. They’ll think they’re moving, but they’re not. It’s psychological warfare."

I nodded thoughtfully.

"Not bad. But how many people in this Academy are actually trained to resist illusions?"

Mira shrugged innocently. "Not our problem."

"...Right. Because traumatizing nobles’ children and making the entire event a Class C-exclusive therapy session is totally what the Board of Directors had in mind."

Mira grinned wider.

Wallace, bless his heart, raised his hand like a polite gremlin.

"What about... a food stand? But with runic cooking experiments?"

I narrowed my eyes.

"Define runic cooking experiments, Wallace."

He coughed. "Uh... culinary innovation? Using magic?"

"You want to sell radioactive cupcakes, don’t you?"

He looked away suspiciously.

By this point, Felix was quietly having an existential crisis in the corner.

I decided to help.

I stood up, stretched, and casually strolled toward him.

"Felix, my boy," I said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "surely you have a normal idea. You know, something that doesn’t involve permanent trauma, hospitalization, or mild nuclear incidents?"

Felix looked up, eyes full of despair.

"We could... um... host a marsh carving competition? Like we do back home...?"

Everyone stared at him.

"What in the seven hells is marsh carving?" Julien blurted.

"It’s when you carve reeds and marsh wood into little figures..." Felix mumbled.

"So... whittling. But sadder," I summarized.

He nodded miserably.

I patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Congratulations, Felix. You have officially invented Depression Whittling™. Truly, an inspiring festival event."

He looked like he might cry.

I turned back to the class, arms spread wide.

"You’re all disasters," I declared proudly. "Absolute, glorious disasters. But somehow, we’ll cobble something together that won’t get us excommunicated."

Julien crossed his arms. "How?"

I smirked.

"Simple. We combine all your terrible ideas into one, monstrous, legally questionable nightmare."

They blinked.

Then, slowly, wicked grins began spreading across their faces.

Mira closed her notebook with a snap. "I’m in."

"Let’s make this unforgettable," Wallace said, eyes gleaming.

"For better or worse," Leo muttered.

Felix just whimpered softly.

And thus, the plan was set.

Class C’s festival booth would feature:

A mini-dueling ring (strictly non-lethal, hopefully),

An illusion maze (with "emotional support" Wallace gadgets scattered inside),

And a humble, if tragic, Depression Whittling™ corner for those needing to recover afterward.

It was... ambitious.

It was stupid.

It was absolutely, 100% on brand for us.

Perfect.

By some miracle—or cosmic joke—the Academy approved our proposal the next day.

Probably because no one read it all the way through.

I imagined the administrators flipping through the stack of proposals, seeing words like dueling, maze, and crafts corner and thinking, Oh, how wholesome.

Idiots.

They had no idea what they’d unleashed.

The following afternoon, we commandeered an empty practice yard to start setting up.

It was immediately apparent that none of my students had ever built anything larger than a paper tower.

Julien and Garrick were trying to hammer two planks together using magic reinforcement instead of nails.

The planks immediately caught fire.

Mira was sketching illusion rune arrays on the ground, but judging by her giggling, half of them were booby traps.

Wallace had constructed what looked like a death ray instead of a maze entrance. He was testing it on a squirrel.

Leo was just standing there, clutching the event checklist like it was a holy relic, whispering, "We’re doomed" every thirty seconds.

And Felix... dear Felix... was trying to whittle a little marsh reed figure.

It looked like a sad, dying caterpillar.

I sighed, arms crossed, enjoying the disaster unfolding before me.

"Alright, you bunch of future lawsuits," I barked, startling them all into attention. "Time for some guidance. Clearly, you are incapable of basic construction. Clearly, you lack the mental fortitude to operate scissors without adult supervision. And clearly, if left to your own devices, you would invent a civilian-grade war crime."

Julien opened his mouth.

I pointed at him.

"No. No talking. You’re on thin ice, Pretty Boy."

He closed his mouth, sulking.

I walked toward the charred planks and kicked them.

"This is not ’reinforced.’ This is ’accidental arson.’ Congratulations, you’re now officially less competent than a peasant carpenter with a hangover."

Garrick looked ashamed. As he should.

Next, I marched over to Mira’s illusion arrays.

I crouched, inspecting them like a disappointed father inspecting a science project made entirely out of tape and bad decisions.

"Mira. Darling. Sweetheart. What the hell is this?"

"A layered confusion rune network!" she said brightly.

I traced the runes with a finger, careful not to trigger anything.

"You realize this would permanently erase the short-term memory of anyone who steps inside, right?"

She smiled wider.

"Not a bug," she said. "Feature."

I closed my eyes, praying for patience.

"If anyone walks into your maze and comes out forgetting their own name, I’m throwing you into the river."

"Noted."

Then, Wallace.

Oh, Wallace.

I didn’t even say anything at first. I just stared at his death machine.

He squirmed.

"It’s a... welcoming device?" he offered weakly.

"It disintegrated a squirrel."

"Enhanced greeting."

"You built a squirrel disintegration cannon, Wallace."

He adjusted his goggles. "In my defense, it works."

"I’m sure the squirrel’s ghost would be thrilled."

Leo was easy.

I just handed him a new checklist titled: "Leo’s Personal Survival Guide: How Not to Die in the Next 72 Hours."

Step 1: Don’t trust your classmates.

Step 2: Don’t stand near anything Wallace built.

Step 3: If you see Mira smiling, run.

Step 4: Cry quietly.

Step 5: Accept death.

He accepted it without argument.

Progress.

Finally, Felix.

I peered over his shoulder at his sad caterpillar carving.

"Felix," I said gently.

"Y-Yeah?" he squeaked.

"Did you use a blunt butter knife for that?"

"It’s my carving knife," he said defensively.

"That’s not a knife. That’s a blunt tragedy."

He slumped in shame.

I patted his head.

"It’s okay. We’ll tell the festival-goers it was an abstract piece. ’The Dying Dreams of a Sad Reed.’ Very avant-garde."

He made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Despite all odds, by the end of the day, we had something resembling a festival setup.

A dueling ring (made of non-flammable materials, thanks to Garrick learning what nails are),

an illusion maze (set to ’mild confusion’ instead of ’permanent brain damage’),

and a humble whittling corner featuring Felix’s tragic marsh sculptures.

Was it safe?

Absolutely not.

Was it legal?

Technically.

Would it be hilarious?

Oh, without a doubt.

And honestly, that was all that mattered.

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