As A Mafia Boss, I Refuse To Be An Extra-Chapter 116: Threat I

Damian walked through the Academy campus with his hands in his pockets, his mind still processing everything Seraphina had told him.

The morning sun was bright, students moving between classes in their usual patterns, completely unaware of the empire being built in the shadows of Tranquil City.

As he walked, he pulled out his watch and opened the Mafia group chat.

The messages were flowing constantly now, coordination between different teams, reports on territory management, updates on orphanage operations.

But one thing kept catching his attention.

Every message addressed to him started with "Sir."

Marcus: Sir, the western district gambling operations are now fully converted to legitimate businesses.

Selene: Sir, should we expand the hospital staff or focus on equipment upgrades first?

Pavel: Sir, requesting guidance on how to handle a dispute between two business owners in our territory.

He understood why they used the title. It had grown naturally from respect and the need for clear hierarchy in a large organization.

But these were his fellow students. People he trained with, fought alongside, and bled with.

Having them call him "Sir" on campus felt wrong. It was too formal and too distant. Too much like the Noble hierarchy he was fighting against.

He typed a message to the student members specifically.

Damian: Stop calling me Sir in Academy contexts. It looks weird and we’re fellow students here. Just use my name or Boss like before. Sir is fine for the city operations, but not between us on campus. We’re equals here, remember that.

The responses came immediately.

Edrin: Understood, Boss. Makes sense.

Ronan: Finally! Sir felt too stuffy anyway.

Lysa: Thank you. I was feeling uncomfortable with it too.

Zavier: Boss is better! More friendly!

Damian smiled slightly and closed the chat.

Small things mattered. Maintaining the right culture within his core group was just as important as strategic planning.

He reached the Section C faculty building and climbed to the third floor where Professor Nathan Greaves had his office.

The door was slightly open, and he could hear papers rustling inside.

Damian knocked twice.

"Come in."

The voice was deep, calm, carrying an undercurrent of weariness.

Damian pushed the door open and entered.

Professor Nathan Greaves sat behind a desk covered in papers, books, and half-finished notes. His black hair was slightly disheveled, his black eyes sharp and analytical behind simple glasses.

He looked to be in his late thirties, though the lines around his eyes suggested someone who’d seen and endured more than his years would indicate.

A commoner who’d fought his way to professorship in an Academy dominated by Nobles. The struggle showed in every weathered feature.

"Damian Valcor. I was wondering when you’d come find me after Seraphina delivered my message."

Nathan gestured to a chair across from his desk.

"Please, sit. We have things to discuss before I take you to meet Professor Ashford."

Damian sat down, studying the professor carefully.

"Professor Seraphina said you wanted to help me learn theoretical foundations so I could develop my own techniques.

I’m grateful for the offer, but I’m curious why you’re willing to risk your position by associating with me when the Imperial families are actively trying to suppress my education."

Nathan leaned back in his chair, a bitter smile crossing his face.

"Because I was you once. Angry, talented, and determined to prove that commoners could match Nobles if given equal opportunity.

I fought every step of the way to get this position, sacrificed relationships and opportunities, burned bridges with anyone who suggested I should accept my place in the hierarchy."

His eyes grew distant.

"And you know what happened? The system ground me down over twenty years until I became exactly what I swore I’d never be.

Just another professor teaching students while watching them get exploited and knowing I can’t do anything meaningful to change it. I compromised and compromised until one day I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person staring back."

He focused on Damian again.

"But watching you these past months, seeing you refuse every compromise, seeing you build something that actually challenges the system instead of just complaining about it, it reminded me that change is actually possible if someone has the courage to fight for it properly.

So yes, I’m willing to risk my position to help you, because maybe if you succeed where I failed, it’ll mean something. Maybe it’ll justify all the years I wasted pretending I was making a difference."

Damian was quiet for a moment, processing the raw honesty.

"Thank you for your candor, Professor. And for your help. I won’t waste the opportunity you’re giving me."

"Good. Now let’s go meet Ashford before I lose my nerve and remember all the practical reasons this is a terrible idea."

Nathan stood up and grabbed his coat.

They walked together across campus toward the theory building where Professor Admond Ashford had his office.

****

They’d been waiting outside Ashford’s office for over forty minutes.

The secretary had informed them that Professor Ashford was aware of their appointment but was currently occupied with important research and would call them when he was ready.

Nathan’s jaw grew tighter with each passing minute, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Damian remained outwardly calm, but his mind was cataloging this deliberate disrespect carefully.

Making them wait was a power play. A way of demonstrating that Ashford considered this favor beneath his attention, that they should be grateful for whatever scraps of time he deigned to give them.

Finally, after an hour of waiting, the secretary’s phone buzzed.

"Professor Ashford will see you now."

They entered the office.

Admond Ashford sat behind an immaculate desk in a room filled with expensive books and awards. He was maybe fifty years old, with the distinctive grey hair and sharp features common to the Ashford Imperial Family.

His office screamed wealth and status. Everything was calculated to remind visitors of the gap between him and them.

He didn’t look up from the papers he was reading when they entered.

Didn’t greet them nor did he acknowledge their presence beyond a slight gesture toward two chairs.

It was another power play and he behaved completely different from how he was behaving in the staff room, during the time Damian caused a sensation in the academy after leaving the student council.

They sat and waited some more time.

Finally, Ashford set his papers aside and looked at Nathan with an expression that managed to convey both boredom and mild irritation.

"Nathan. It’s been several years since we last spoke. I assume this visit relates to the favor I owe you from that incident with the examination board?"

"Yes, Admond. I’m calling in that debt now."

Nathan’s voice was tight, controlled.

"This is Damian Valcor, one of the most talented first-year students the Academy has seen in decades. The Imperial families are pressuring professors not to teach him, which is cutting off his access to advanced theoretical knowledge.

I’m asking you to provide him with the theoretical foundations and conceptual frameworks he needs to develop his own techniques."

Ashford’s gaze finally shifted to Damian, cold and assessing.

"I’m aware of who Damian Valcor is. The commoner who’s been causing disruptions throughout the first year. The student who’s beaten several Noble heirs and apparently left the student council on his own."

His tone made it clear what he thought of all that.

"Nathan, I owe you a favor, that’s true. You saved my position years ago when certain accusations were made, and I haven’t forgotten that debt. But you need to understand the limitations of what I can do.

That favor, while significant, isn’t large enough that I can afford to stand against my own family’s interests and the combined pressure of multiple Imperial houses just to teach one student."

Nathan’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

His A rank Aura began leaking out involuntarily, the pressure making the air in the room feel heavy.

"Admond, you said the debt was significant. You said when I called it in, you would–"

"I said I would help within reason."

Ashford interrupted smoothly, his own Aura activating to counter Nathan’s, demonstrating the rank difference.

"And teaching this particular student advanced theory while the Imperial families have specifically forbidden it goes well beyond what’s reasonable. However, I’m not completely unwilling to help."

He turned his full attention to Damian now.

"If you were willing to become a subordinate of the Ashford family, formally submit to our authority and serve our interests, then I could certainly consider providing you with extensive theoretical instruction.

We always have room for talented individuals who understand their proper place in the hierarchy. Your abilities would be quite valuable under proper guidance and control."