Path of the Demonic Villain

Dante took out his ordinary pocket watch, then popped open the silver latch to check the time.

It was currently three minutes past three o’clock.

Turning his gaze to the side, he stared thoughtfully out the window. It was raining, and the gray, overcast sky gave the academy grounds a bleak, somber atmosphere.

After a few seconds, he exhaled deeply, stood up, and pocketed the watch back into his vest.

"I should leave early today," he mumbled to himself.

Just then, Edward vanished into thin air, and Dante began making his way out of the VIP room.

However, right when he reached out to open the door, it swung open, hitting his head.

"Ow!"

With a grimace, he took two steps back while rubbing his forehead.

"Who...?" he began, raising his head before arching a questioning brow when he recognized who had barged into the room.

She was a young woman with long blue hair that flowed past her shoulders, and striking blue eyes. Currently, she looked like she was running from something or someone, seeing as she had immediately closed and locked the door behind her, and was now leaning her back against it while breathing heavily.

"Annabella?"

Of course he could recognize her.

"Oh?" She caught her breath, adjusting her coat. "It’s you. Uh... Dante?"

Now, although she might have been acquaintances with the original Dante, this current Dante wasn’t that close to her. In fact, she only knew him because during the few days Dante had spent in the academy before he returned to Ravena, he had made an effort to try and establish a rapport with her.

What’s that saying? Ah... keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Something like that. Besides, what better way to find out more about the situation than by befriending her?

Although, befriending her wasn’t that easy because she had the personality of a cat that had been doused in cold water and handed a knife.

At the same time, it was difficult to read her because she was a sly fox.

"What are you doing here?" Dante’s brows furrowed.

Annabella smiled and tilted her head. "I’m being chased. Heh heh."

He arched a brow. "Why?"

"Where do I begin?" She exhaled dramatically. "So, short version. I made the security to the High Archive fall asleep, then snuck in and stole a document. By the way, did you know that there are actually several security guards on the inside who dress as librarians? I didn’t know that and almost ended up getting caught. Lucky me! So don’t ever try to do the same thing, you hear?"

’Now why would I want to do that?’

As she spoke, Dante’s eyes fell on the parchment in her hand. He could see a small part of the header.

’...on the pursuit of Apostle Lorenzo Bianchi. Hm? I think I know that name.’

Upon noticing where his gaze was fixed, Annabella immediately retracted the hand holding the parchment behind her back to hide it. Then she leaned closer, resting a palm gently against his chest.

She looked up through her lashes, and her voice dropped into a low, seductive murmur. "You won’t snitch on me, will you?"

Dante’s eyes fell to the hand on his chest. He reached up, grabbed her wrist, and pushed it back to her side. "That doesn’t work on me."

Annabella clicked her tongue and pouted.

Just then, the doors rattled, followed by several knocks against the wood.

Both of them snapped their gazes toward the entrance, only for Annabella to turn back to him with wide, pleading eyes.

After a few seconds, Dante exhaled and pointed to the large mahogany desk.

She seemed to understand and immediately hurried over behind it, then she ducked underneath the rectangular space to hide her silhouette.

Dante waited a few seconds to let her settle, then stepped forward and turned the brass handle before opening the door.

When he did, a man and a woman came into view. Both wore formal security uniforms and looked like they had been running across the grounds. One of them, a man in his mid-twenties with short black hair and a stern, narrow face, stepped forward first.

"Pardon the intrusion, Signore. Did a young woman come running in here?"

Dante, who wore an expression that showed he was annoyed at the interruption, rubbed his chin as if he was thinking. Then he raised an eyebrow. "Are you referring to the lady with blue hair and a face like a doll?"

The man who spoke turned to look at the guard he came with before turning back to Dante. "Yes. Did you see her?"

Dante smiled and nodded. "Yes, I did."

Behind the table, Annabella cursed under her breath.

’That dude! Is he going to sell me out?!’ Her heart began to race faster, and she bit her lip as she strained, waiting for his answer.

"Where is she? Is she in here right now?" The man made to step in, but Dante stopped him.

"No." He shook his head. "On my way in here a few minutes ago, I saw her run past toward the Outer Library."

"Are you sure?" The man pressed, narrowing his eyes as he tried to glance past Dante into the room.

Dante nodded calmly.

The man stopped, then cast another glance at his colleague before looking back to Dante.

"Alright. Thank you for your cooperation, Signore," he said with a brief nod, before turning and heading back toward the main library with his partner in a hurry.

Dante stepped forward and closed the door, then turned the brass latch to lock it once more.

It was quiet for a few seconds. And then...

"...Thank God. You nearly gave me a heart attack, you know. For a second there, I thought you were going to snitch on me," she said with a loud, relieved sigh.

Dante turned to see her sitting on the armchair with one leg crossed over the other.

"I’m not a snitch," he replied flatly, walking back toward the center of the room.

"Makes you look even more handsome," she said, leaning her chin against her palm with a playful smirk.

Dante’s gaze settled on the parchment tucked behind her leg. "Mind telling me what was worth sneaking in to the High Archive?"

Without changing her smug expression, she narrowed her eyes. "It’s none of your business, handsome."

’Of course.’ Dante had already expected that response. He exhaled softly. "Alright then. I’m heading off. You can leave whenever you like."

As he turned to walk toward the exit, she raised a hand to pause him. "Wait. I owe you one. What do you say I buy you a drink to pay you back?"

Dante looked over his shoulder with a faint, amused smile. "I like the winterberry blend II Gran Salone serves at two in the afternoons."

She chuckled lightly. "Deal."

***

After taking a few steps towards the archway leading to the Outer Library, Dante reached into his pocket and took out the [Pocket Watch of Stolen Moments.]

He halted, raised the watch, then pressed the small button on the winding crown.

In the next instant, the noise from the library died away, and Dante suddenly had the feeling of time being frozen all around him.

’Apostle Lorenzo Bianchi was a devout follower of Marion, the evil God of Puppets and Marionettes. He was a Tier 4 Mage and a Red Apostle, said to be one of the few who possessed the Divine Skill: [Parasitic Marionette].

’Even after his identity and connection to the cult known as the Black Silt Ring were compromised, it was not until April 26th, 1873, that he was finally cornered by the Apostles of the Church of Light.

’However, before any actionable information could be extracted from him, Lorenzo transferred his entire consciousness into a spider. He attempted to crawl away unnoticed, only to be crushed under the boot of a passing Apostle by accident, ending his life on the spot.’

Dante arched a curious brow. ’Hm. That was a case from fifteen years ago. Why is Annabella with that?’

***

Central District in the Imperial Capital.

In front of a quaint apartment building with a ground-floor storefront in the Civic Quarter.

——

Despite the rain falling, which made the cobblestones slick and cold, Francesca was squatting by the curb. Of course, she had an umbrella perched over one shoulder, while she kept taking drags from a cigarette pinched between black-painted nails.

At this moment, anyone seeing her would never suspect that such a person was the daughter of a count.

But then, Annabella had always been this way. She always dressed in only simple monochrome outfits and never pastel silk. She was the kind of person to prefer using public carriages over her family’s crest-emblazoned coach.

One could say that she was either just simple, or she just didn’t give a fuck.

Currently, her eyes were fixed on the frosted glass of the ground floor window. Printed cleanly across the somewhat brown glass in green lettering was [Holmes, Poirot & Co. — Private Detectives], with a small blue sign mounted just below it listing their specialties: Civil & Criminal Enquiries, Surveillance, Infidelity, Special Cases.

After staring at it until the last drag, she spat on the street, stood up, and dropped the butt into a puddle, before crushing it under the heel of her black boot.

Then she walked over to the door and pushed it open without knocking.