Magic would've been a whole lot easier if she had someone to teach her.
But… who exactly was she supposed to learn from?
Bella was basically broke. Room, board, and survival all depended on Charlie. Forget Kamar-Taj—she couldn't even afford a trip to New York. And after the Flight 180 incident, she was on a no-fly list anyway.
Even if she could travel, what then? It's not like Kamar-Taj was on Google Maps. And showing up there as an isekai'd outsider? That was practically asking to get thrown off a cliff. Better to stay home and secretly level up than deliver herself right to their doorstep.
And after meeting Billy Black—the Quileute chief—Bella had already learned something important:
every magic-using group guards their knowledge like dragons guarding treasure.
Getting one ancestral ritual out of Billy felt like pulling teeth. That man liked her, her dad liked her dad, and Jacob liked her… a lot. Even with all that goodwill stacked together, it still felt like he'd handed her a nuclear launch code.
By comparison, sorcerers from anywhere else?
They'd look at her, smile politely, and hand her the classic three answers:
"I don't know."
"There is no such thing."
"Goodbye."
And honestly, if she were a master mage and some random stranger came knocking, she'd give them the exact same three-piece combo.
So—self-study it was. At least for now.
During the day, she studied literature and ancient texts.
PE? She dominated the court and looked good doing it.
Sometimes she even joined the boys for basketball.
At night, she sat at the table with Charlie and did her homework like a model student.
Her schedule was packed.
She never ran into Edward in biology…
…but she did end up sharing a lab table with Alice Cullen.
The short-haired vampire's bright eyes were practically drilling holes through her, trying to see past her psychic shield.
These vampires really had zero patience.
Bella put down her book. "Pretty sure bio isn't on your schedule today, Miss Cullen?"
"That's not important. Don't you think?"
"I think it's very important. I like order, and I expect people to follow it." Bella nudged the microscope back into place.
Alice casually flipped through her notebook. "You're not a normal human, are you?"
"I am a normal human. Class is starting."
This time, instead of reading her pile of ancient-superstition texts, Bella followed the actual lesson. When she ran into something she didn't understand, she simply asked Alice.
Honestly, this family was suffering.
Stuck in eighteen-year-old bodies, forced to attend high school and college over and over.
Get noticed? You move.
Suspicion? You move again.
Heard someone whisper you look too mature? Pack your bags.
They'd repeated the "high school → college → move → repeat" cycle for over a century. Their house supposedly had an entire wall covered with graduation caps.
At this point, if someone didn't become a genius after studying the same textbooks twenty times, that would be the real miracle.
Every question Bella asked was something Alice had memorized a century ago. She explained effortlessly—better than the teacher.
"Thanks! You explain things way better."
Bella meant it as simple courtesy.
Alice, however, stared at her like she'd just grown two heads.
…
Day 40 after the Flight 180 crash.
According to the pattern, today was the day the so-called "death spirit" would begin killing the survivors again.
Forks was cold and wet, rain all night. Bella pedaled her bike through the drizzle.
She parked, pulled off her gloves, breathed warm air onto her freezing hands, then grimaced as she pulled out her wallet.
After last night's photocopying spree, it was looking thin again.
The thousand dollars she originally had had dwindled to a few crumpled bills.
She really didn't have the heart to ask Charlie for money. He wasn't her real dad; giving her a home and food was already more than enough. Asking for pocket money? No way.
And Forks was tiny. No business opportunities.
She refused to use her psychic powers to cheat.
Her mind was her foundation—she couldn't afford to cut corners.
She sighed deeply.
She really had no way to make money… short of getting a job?
Which, frankly, was depressing.
I'm suffering…
She stared at the last few bills, shaking her head.
Then—
A harsh screech shattered the air.
Bella's head snapped up, eyes razor-sharp.
A dark blue van was skidding sideways toward her, tires locked, water slicking the pavement like oil. The whole vehicle was sliding straight at her.
The jolt of death perception hit instantly.
Something had locked onto her again.
Death had come.
A van? Seriously?
How stupid do you think I am?
When the vehicle was still three meters out, she bent her knees. Her plan was simple: wait until the van blocked all student sightlines, then jump out of the way.
No need to reveal she wasn't exactly… normal.
But she underestimated whatever force was directing this "fate."
Right then, a thin figure flashed into view—Edward Cullen, moving with unnatural speed. He vaulted across the wet pavement and reached her side in a blur, thrusting out a hand to push the van away.
Bella's mind went blank for a split second. She'd been so focused on not exposing herself that she hadn't expected someone else to appear.
She didn't even look to see who it was.
Her instincts kicked in: if she jumped, this passerby could die.
So she canceled her leap, planted her feet, and thrust her right hand against the van's side.
Left hand—vampire strength.
Right hand—her psychic force.
Two palm-shaped dents exploded into the metal.
Edward's side was crushed inward with brute force.
Bella's side… frosted over, the paint cracking and flaking off in chunks.
Inside the cab, the student driver slumped over the wheel, forehead bleeding—a clean knockout.
Bella turned to Edward, thoroughly annoyed.
Are you kidding me? You couldn't tell I had this handled?
Edward knew he'd jumped in for no reason—but he kept his icy, brooding expression anyway. He was too used to pretending to be cool.
Fine. Be dramatic.
Stand there and brood all you want.
Bella's concern wasn't the van.
Her death sense wasn't wrong.
Sure, taken alone, it looked like a random rainy-day accident.
But combined with Flight 180?
Yeah… there was something a lot bigger at play.