It took everything out of Bell not to apologize to Diana when he encountered her in the hallway.
Seeing her in person for the first time, not just through the pages of a novel, but in person, he could tell immediately from her eyes that she had been through hell the past few months.
Over the past few weeks, his resentment and hatred for his own self had begun to fade, piece by piece.
But the moment he saw her, all of it came surging back — stronger, sharper.
The victim he had only read about in the novel was now real, standing right in front of him.
He wanted to apologize.
He wanted to atone.
But he didn't because none of it would have come from the original Bell.
Any apology would've been a lie. And even if it helped Diana recover, he didn't want her forgiveness, not in the slightest — which would've likely never happen anyways.
The original Bell does not deserve to be forgotten.
If that encounter with the god in the dream world had went the wrong way and he had been informed that he was brought to this world for fun or as a joke, that widowmaker would've been placed on his head faster than a snap.
When he reached the headmistress's office, he glanced sideways.
Diana was gone.
'Good,' he thought.
He had seen the fear in her. He aw how it overwhelmed and consumed her, bounding her in place as if thousands of invisible chains had attached themselves to her.
Hopefully, that fear would fade someday. Hopefully, all that would remain would be hatred and the wrath of a thousand suns aimed squarely at his throat.
Inside the office foyer, Bell sat down in the waiting area.
Through the frosted glass, he could vaguely see the headmistress writing on a document. He knew that she already knew he was there. As powerful as she was, it would've took Maya being invisible not to be captured by her senses.
A minute and a half later—
"Come in," came a tired voice.
Opening the door, Bell was taken aback by the mess. Stacks of papers covered her desk, the floor, even the window seat. The trash bin overflowed with empty coffee packets. It was a fitting image of a woman drowning in work.
"Don't mind the mess. Every new semester brings in a lot of work for me to handle."
As she finished signing one paper, another floated from the floor and settled neatly before her.
Her ability.
Telekinesis — one aspect of the god she followed. It wasn't the only thing her skill tree had to offer but it was the primary focus.
"Sit," she said.
A chair scraped across the floor on its own as if it was possessed by a ghost, sliding from the corner to the front of her desk.
Bell took the seat, facing her directly.
'Is she trying to intimidate me?' he wondered.
Why else would the chair have been tucked away in the corner? She had visitors all the time; it should've been where it belonged. No, she'd placed it there just to demonstrate her power.
And yes, he was correct to assume that she was trying to intimidate him.
But to her surprise, Bell didn't flinch, didn't react at all. She hid it well, but she hadn't expected such composure. Standing before such a powerful figure as her, even these subtle actions could seem like a threat but there wasn't any hint of fear in those red eyes of his.
'Is this because of the ego of an Agnus?' she wondered.
"This is our first time meeting one-on-one," the headmistress said, eyes still on her paperwork.
"Indeed, it is."
Naturally, she should've continued the conversation. But instead, she said nothing once he responded. She just kept working, signing, flipping, reading, scratching her head, and even humming while occasionally glancing up at him.
Not a single twitch of any facial muscle.
Nothing.
'What's wrong with this kid?' she thought. 'Why is he sitting there like a statue?'
She didn't know the kid personally but she knew the gist of his character and how his personality was according to the research she's done. But based on what she was seeing with her own eyes, he was nothing like the descriptions she had in her mind.
'What's wrong with this kid?' she thought. 'Why is he sitting there like a statue?'
Any other student would've been squirming by now — fidgeting, tapping their foot, looking anywhere but her.
But not Bell.
He simply sat. Silent. Unmoving.
While she wondered, Bell's own thoughts drifted elsewhere.
'Her reading speed is impressive,' he mused. 'Almost as fast as mine.'
The headmistress was a beautiful woman. Her eyes were deep, and there was plenty of wisdom and stories to tell tucked inside them.
Although she physically looked like she was in her early 30s, her true age was over a hundred.
Her dark blue hair fell straight, with bangs grazing her eyebrows. The same hue colored her eyes, her lipstick, even her faint eyeshadow.
In the novel, she had only appeared during major events, moments of crisis too great for the students to handle.
Despite her lack of appearance, one detail about her had always stuck in Bell and other readers' mind though: her missing left pinky.
The protagonist and his companions had once discussed a rumor being spread around by other students that she the headmistress had cut it off herself as an apology to a shadowy organization that would have otherwise executed her for breaking their rules.
A pinky for a life.
A very good deal that almost everyone would take.
The rumor faded quickly though, never mentioned again other than that brief mention in one of the earlier chapters. But if this world had always been real — not one born from fiction and pulled from the pages of a novel, then that forgotten detail might not have been an abandoned plot thread at all.
The organization was likely the Mai-Yad, a group introduced much later in the story, one notorious for its harsh rules and members missing various body parts. Some were missing an eye, one was missing an ear, some had missing arms, etc.
Bell couldn't help but conclude that he was once a part of them or perhaps even still actively a member.
Which made him ponder about something for a bit though.
The Mai-Yad was an organization that consisted of villains.
Yet the woman before him would one day sacrifice herself to save millions.
How did those two things coexist? Was it because she atoned for her past as a villain and was now attempting to do good? Did that mean she was no longer in the group?
He'd have to find out later.
"Shall we talk now?" she asked, setting her pen down and meeting his eyes.
"That's what I'm here for," he answered bluntly.
The air in the room shifted — colder, sharper — as if they'd been transported to the middle of the North Pole. Was this just his imagination, or was it an actual physical change?
"Before we begin, do you know why I called you here?"
"I do," he said flatly. There was no need to feign ignorance. Even a blind bat could see what the topic of discussion was going to be.
"Really? Then tell me."
"It's because I sexually assaulted Diana Watson," Bell said. "Or to be more blunt, I r*ped her."
The headmistress froze.
She'd known the truth, of course, but to hear him say it so calmly was jarring. No excuses. No defense. Just admission.
"So you admit it," she said slowly.
"Yes. The evidence you and the other teachers have confirms it."
"Evidence?" she scoffed. "There's no need for evidence. You were there. You don't need proof that it happened. All you need to do is look back on your memory."
She was wrong. He didn't have the memory. He wasn't even the real Bell. But that didn't matter. He knew that Bell Agnus was guilty, regardless of whether or not he had the memories.
He actually hoped never to get the memories. To see the incident with his own eyes might really force his hand to end his own life.
The headmistress raised her hand. All the pens in the room shot toward Bell, stopping mere millimeters from his skin, poised to skewer him like a porcupine.
"The only reason you're still breathing," she said, voice low and trembling with anger, "is your father. I don't know what strings he pulled, but according to the paper Diana signed, she 'forgives' you. No punishment. No publicity. None of the adults is allowed to tell the students. How lucky you are that I wasn't there to oversee this shit."
One pen inched closer to his right eye.
"Give me one reason," she hissed, "why I shouldn't break the law and kill you right here. Fuck that agreement to pretend nothing happened. I didn't agree to it. Just because the school agreed, that doesn't mean that I agreed."
Even with his life hanging in the balance, Bell didn't even flinch.
"Because no matter how much you want me dead," he said evenly, "no one in this world wants that more than I do."
Her eyebrow twitched.
He wasn't lying. She could feel it. There was no deception in his tone.
"So what?" she snapped. "You hurt that girl, and now you're guilty? Guilt doesn't undo what you did. If you want to die, then do it. Maybe then she can finally begin to heal."
"As soon as I'm able," Bell replied quietly, "I will."
"...And why not now?"
"Because this world needs me."
The words hung in the air.
"What?" she said, startled. With a scoff, she asked, "What are you talking about? Explain."
It didn't sound like he was joking.
"I can't."
"Why? Because you're lying? Because your ego makes you think you're important?" Her voice sharpened. "Who the hell do you think you are? The world doesn't need a criminal like you. It'd be better off if you were dead. That's what the world needs. You. DEAD."
She stood abruptly, pulling the saber from the wall.
She swung it a few times casually as if she were a child playing with her toy. But considering the circumstances and the sharp sounds the saber was making, it made the gesture feel more like a threat.
"As humans, we control very few things," she said. "Our birth, our families, our status, all decided for us by the wheel of fate that spins when our soul enters the universe. But there are two things within our grasp: how we act, and how much effort we give."
She pointed the saber at his face.
"Do you know what we call those who surrender to their base instincts? Those who abandon reason and humanity?"
Bell's voice was quiet. "What?"
He had an inkling he knew what she was going to say. She was going to say—
"Beasts. We call them beasts."
She lowered the blade, and the pens around him drifted back to their drawers, aligning neatly.
Setting the saber down on her desk, she continued, "Do you know what we do to beasts, Bell Agnus?"
"..."
"We kill them. You, Bell Gideon Agnus, fourth son of Alistar Sebastian Agnus, are not a man. You're a beast. You claim the world needs you, yet you can't even explain why. How can I believe anything you say? Beasts don't speak our language, all I hear is growling."
"You don't have to believe me," Bell said. "But I swear on the Agnus name, on the god I follow, and on my very soul, I'm here in this world for a reason. One that will help mankind."
'At least that's what I believe to be true.'
"And when I've done what I came to do… you won't have to decide whether to kill me."
He met her eyes, voice steady.
"I'll do it myself."