Quirkless Mastermind

𝐂𝟑𝟎:𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫

A teacher, a mentor. These words, often praised in society, were nothing more than convenient labels. In the White Room, they simply described another person in a white coat, armed with another experiment or theory to impose on the subjects. "Mentorship" was just another form of control. So, would this be any different? Or was this simply another façade, just like UA High—another illusion of guidance wrapped in heroism?

I was used to being invited to plush offices, rooms filled with authority. But here, the setting was different. A small, dimly lit building in the shadows of Hosu. It didn't feel like the headquarters of an esteemed hero agency. No. It felt more like a hideout. I sat there, silently, like a chess piece waiting for the game to begin. The room was filled with the stale scent of neglect—uninviting posters plastered on the walls of Heroes like remnants of a forgotten past. The place was silent, and the visiting lounge hardly seemed inviting, with scattered data of heroes around Hosu on the floor. As I waited, I observed the city through the grimy window. It was almost amusing how, with just a glance from the train to Hosu, I had memorized the entire cityscape of it. People, heroes, places and routes. All stored away. A mental map forms with every passing moment. I wouldn't be caught off-guard here.

The creak of the door. The sound was abrasive, like a scream in the silence, and walked in a man who seemed to be the opposite of everything this place represented. His smile was blinding, almost childlike, in contrast to the grim atmosphere of the hideout. "Hey there, Junior! I'm Mirio!" His hand extended towards me, gloved in black. I took it with little interest.

"Ayanokouji Kiyotaka," I replied flatly. Formalities were meaningless in this exchange, but still necessary.

His enthusiasm was unsettling. He wasn't in hero gear, which was odd. A hero's assistant should always be prepared. But here he was, dressed casually, almost too casually. A stealthy colour scheme, though, so perhaps he wasn't entirely incompetent.

Mirio grinned, ignoring my dispassionate introduction. "Just a heads up, Sir Nighteye's in a really bad mood."

The warning wasn't needed, but I acknowledged it with a nod.

As I entered the room, I immediately noticed the chaos. Papers scattered across the floor, detailing the intricate layout of Hosu, past criminals, heroes, and every corner of the city laid bare in a mess of disarray. Mirio's carefree steps trampled on these papers without a second thought. It was as if the weight of this information didn't matter to him. The contrast between his demeanour and the room's purpose was...interesting, to say the least.

"Sir, here's the student," Mirio announced.

Nighteye didn't even look at me. His focus remained glued to a particular paper. From the angle, I could tell it was about Ingenium. The silence stretched, but I waited. There was no need to rush. Nighteye finally spoke, his voice sharp and commanding.

"Hmm, the boy from the sports fest. I know. Speak."

"Kiyotaka Ayanokouji," I replied once more, nothing added.

"Is that all? You think introductions are a joke?" His voice cut through the air, and he looked up, his gaze piercing, demanding something more. His eyes didn't just see—they dissected, stripped away any pretence.

"I don't know how to introduce myself," I said flatly. I could have played along, but why waste the effort? He wasn't interested in pleasantries; he wanted results.

He didn't appreciate my brevity. His eyes narrowed, but I noticed a flicker of something deeper—a challenge, perhaps. He turned to Mirio.

"Mirio, introduce yourself."

Mirio's tone immediately shifted to one of zealous energy. "Yes, sir! I'm Lemillion! I'm a student at UA High, and I'm interning under you, Nighteye sir. My greatest ambition is to save at least one million people!"