The Villain Professor's Second Chance-Chapter 381: The Soft Side of The Professor

Amberine and Maris sat across from Draven, their eyes on him with an unusual mix of curiosity and determination. They noticed something different about the professor today. The usual biting coldness still lingered, but the sharp edges of his personality seemed to have softened slightly. Maybe it was his earlier interaction with the children. He wasn’t throwing out his usual snide remarks, and his demeanor, though still cold and calculating, seemed more approachable than it had been in a long time.

Maris leaned forward, her voice careful. "Professor, I have to ask... Is there a specific technique you recommend for stabilizing the emotional fluctuations in the orb?"

Draven tilted his head, his gaze shifting to her, as if assessing the depth of her question. His eyes, sharp as always, seemed to pierce through her as he thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, almost philosophical.

"Emotions are like a river—constantly flowing, shifting, adapting to the environment. If you wish to control them, you must first understand their source and respect their volatility." He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing, "Measurement must be taken not by force but by harmony, ensuring each emotion finds balance within the vessel. Emotions and mana are more similar than many care to admit—it’s why they are intrinsically linked. Understanding this is the first step to true control."

Maris nodded, trying to absorb the depth of what he had said. Amberine, who had been watching Draven closely, took this as her moment. Her voice was steady but curious. "What about consistency, Professor? How do we make sure the measurements are reliable when we’re dealing with something as unpredictable as hope, fear, or rage?"

Draven leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought, the corners of his mouth almost twitching as if he were considering a smile. But of course, that would be too out of character. "Emotions are born from both the conscious and the subconscious," he began, his voice low and resonant. "You will find consistency not in controlling the emotion directly, but in shaping the conditions that give rise to it. In other words, create a consistent environment, and the emotional response will follow. Hope, fear, rage—they are all products of perception, of context. Shape the context, and you shape the emotion."

Maris and Amberine exchanged a glance, their eyes widening in realization. They continued to ask more questions, seeking every bit of insight they could get. Draven answered each one with precision, his tone still aloof but lacking his usual sarcasm. He seemed invested, as if, for once, this conversation held his attention without irritation.

With a flick of his finger, Draven created an illusion, a shimmering figure of a human body with an ethereal image of a heart glowing at its chest. He gestured to the heart. "When do you feel rage? When do you feel fear? Think about those moments when emotions take hold of you, unbidden." He glanced between Amberine and Maris, his eyes sharp. "Rage often comes from fear—the fear of losing something, of being powerless. Fear itself arises from uncertainty, the unknown, a threat that we do not yet know how to deal with."

Amberine frowned slightly, her fiery eyes thoughtful. "And how do you conquer them?"

Draven let out a slow breath, his voice as cold as the winter wind. "You conquer fear by understanding it, and rage by channeling it. You guide the flow of your emotion like you guide mana—not by suppressing it, but by mastering it. You let it become part of you, a tool that you can wield at will." He paused, his gaze steady on Amberine. "Tell me, Amberine, when you wield your flames, what do you feel?"

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Amberine blinked, caught off guard. "I... I feel a lot of things. Sometimes it’s anger, sometimes it’s fear. But there’s also a thrill, like the fire is an extension of myself."

Draven nodded. "Exactly. The thrill, the connection—that is the key. Emotions fuel magic, but they must be controlled. It is not enough to simply feel them; you must use them. Rage without direction is destructive. Fear without understanding is paralyzing. The same applies to magic. Your flames are fueled by both anger and fear, but they must be tempered by intent, by control."

Maris watched intently, her gaze unwavering. "So, the key is not to suppress what we feel, but to understand it, to use it."

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Draven gave a slight nod. "Indeed. Too many mages believe that emotions are a weakness, something to be purged or suppressed. They forget that emotions are a source of strength, a conduit for power. You must learn to channel them—to let them fuel your magic, not hinder it."

Amberine’s eyes narrowed in concentration, her mind racing as she considered his words. She remembered the times when her fire had felt uncontrollable, when her own emotions had made it volatile. If what Draven said was true, then the answer wasn’t to suppress her anger or her fear, but to let them work together, to guide them like she would guide her mana.

Maris hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice softer. "Professor, earlier you spoke about balance—about creating an environment that fosters consistency. How do we do that when emotions are so inherently chaotic?"

Draven glanced at her, his gaze calculating. "You begin by understanding the nature of the emotion. Hope, for instance, is born from the belief in a better outcome, a sense of possibility. If you want to measure hope, you must cultivate an environment that fosters it. Provide the perception of safety, of opportunity. The same goes for fear—to measure fear, you must create uncertainty, a sense of looming threat." He gestured to the illusory heart, the light within it shifting as he spoke, shifting from red to a gentle blue. "Each emotion responds to different stimuli. Master the stimuli, and you master the emotion."

Amberine and Maris were silent for a moment, absorbing his words. They were used to his coldness, his dismissiveness, but today was different. There was a genuine depth to his answers—a willingness to share knowledge that went beyond the basics. It was as if, for once, he was treating them as equals, as individuals who could understand the nuances of his thoughts.

After a few more questions and answers, Draven stood, his gaze once again distant and sharp. "I believe that is enough for today," he said, his voice returning to its usual clipped efficiency. He looked directly at Maris, his expression unreadable. "I will not tell you to stop visiting the slums, especially considering your internship with the royal knights. However, I do have another request."

Amberine and Maris looked up at him, intrigued. Draven continued, "I am opening internship positions for those who wish to teach here at the orphanage. I require three individuals, and I expect them to be capable of both teaching and maintaining discipline. The children here are valuable, but they need guidance—and they need it from someone who won’t coddle them."

He paused, his gaze steady on the two young women. "If you could assist me in finding suitable part-timers, I would appreciate it. Of course, the pay will be more than adequate."

Amberine’s eyes lit up with interest, a grin forming on her lips. "We could do it! We’d love to help out!"

Maris nodded in agreement, her expression more reserved but no less enthusiastic. "It would be an honor, Professor."

Draven raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanged. "Is that so?" His tone was flat, devoid of any sign of approval or disapproval. It was as if their enthusiasm was of no particular consequence to him, as though he merely noted it in passing.

He gestured towards the door, his gaze cool. "You are free to leave now. Alfred will escort you to ensure that no... unwanted attention follows you."

Amberine and Maris rose from their seats, bowing slightly out of respect. As they turned to leave, Amberine paused, looking back at Draven. There was a moment of hesitation before she spoke. "Professor... thank you. For everything back then."

Draven didn’t look up from the book he had already opened. He simply flipped a page, his attention seemingly entirely absorbed by the text in front of him. He didn’t reply, and after a moment, Amberine and Maris turned and made their way out of the room.

Alfred was waiting for them by the door, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. "I will escort you both back to ensure your safety," he said, his voice polite but firm.

As they walked through the dark alleys of the slums, Amberine and Maris felt an unexpected sense of security. Having Alfred with them felt like having an invisible shield—an assurance that no harm would come their way. The night was thick with darkness, the air cool, and the only sounds were the faint rustle of their footsteps and the distant murmur of the city.

Amberine let out a slow breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She glanced at Maris, who looked equally relieved. "That was... intense," she murmured.

Maris nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "Those people—the ones we encountered before—they were strong. But Alfred handled them so easily. It makes me wonder... just how powerful is Professor Draven?"

Amberine shivered at the thought. Draven had always been an enigma, a man of few words and even fewer emotions. He was efficient, calculating, and cold—but there was a depth of power there that she couldn’t quite fathom. "It’s frightening to think about," she admitted. "But right now, we have other things to focus on—the symposium, our University assignments... There’s enough on our plate without worrying about him."

Maris took a moment to glance at Amberine, her eyes softening as a flicker of concern passed over her features. She let out a quiet sigh of relief when she noticed that Amberine seemed unaffected by the mention of Devil Coffin. The dangerous organization had tried to recruit Amberine, offering her power to avenge her father in exchange for loyalty. It was a temptation they had narrowly escaped, and Maris had been worried about its lingering influence on her friend.

But now, watching Amberine walk confidently beside her, eyes filled with determination, Maris felt reassured. Amberine had grown—she was stronger, more focused. The allure of revenge, the whispered promises from Devil Coffin, no longer seemed to hold sway over her. "Thank goodness," Maris thought, allowing a small smile to form.

Alfred remained a silent presence beside them as they walked, his footsteps nearly imperceptible on the uneven cobblestones. He moved as if he barely touched the ground, his confidence and capability apparent in every step. Amberine stole glances at him now and then, her mind drifting to the events of the past few weeks.

The people they had faced in the slums—the shadows lurking in the dark, those waiting for them—were filled with dark mana and frightening power. And yet, Alfred had fended them off effortlessly, with a level of skill that seemed almost unreal. If Alfred was capable of that, what could Draven do? The thought made Amberine shiver, a mixture of awe and fear curling in her chest.

"You know," Maris said quietly, breaking the silence, "I think working with Draven has been a good opportunity for us. He’s terrifying, but... he’s given us chances that no one else would. He may be harsh, but maybe he believes in us more than we do."

Amberine smiled faintly and nodded. "Yeah. I think you’re right. I just wish he wasn’t so damn scary all the time."

Maris let out a soft laugh, her voice echoing through the quiet street. "Maybe that’s part of his charm. Keeps everyone on edge."

At least for today.

Amberine doesn’t seem to be bothered about it.