I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

Chapter 126 James Meeting Angel Elysphira

James strolled through the long corridors of the building, his footsteps echoing faintly against the stone walls.

He'd already skipped the first class on his very first day, but his face carried a smug smirk. Not like he cared about exorcisms anyway—they weren't his thing.

He was here for two reasons: the Vault, and something else. He needed a body for Gin.

If he remembered correctly, the teacher's name was something like Norman Columbus—a history teacher specializing in Ocryphia. After a lot of deliberation, Patrick Cromwell had settled on this man as the perfect vessel for Gin.

"Hmm, should I just deal with him now?" James muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. The idea was tempting, but the logistics were tricky. If Columbus was in class, it'd be impossible to catch him alone.

No, he needed to find a secluded, isolated spot, and that wasn't exactly easy at Ocryphia. The place was a fortress now. Stewart Roden, the student he had killed, had been a lucky break—an opportunity that practically handed itself to him—but taking out a teacher? That was a whole new level of difficult. Especially since Ocryphia had beefed up its security.

Cameras were everywhere, no doubt a response to angry parents flooding the academy with complaints. Still, even with all these measures, there were demons clever enough to slip through the cracks, evading even the sharpest Exorcists of Ocryphia.

Absentmindedly, James reached for the gold coin hanging from his neck by a simple thread. He flipped it between his fingers as he thought.

But then he stopped abruptly.

Taking a few steps back, he turned his head to the left. His eyes locked onto a figure tucked into one of the stone alcoves that doubled as benches.

A girl was sitting there, her legs swaying idly. She had long black hair, loose and unbound, framing a face so stunning it could rival any Heroine of the Novel. Her eyes, dark brown but so deep they seemed almost black, were fixed downward—until she noticed his boots. Your journey continues with empire

They weren't the standard-issue shoes the academy required—just another rule James ignored. Instead, they were his own rugged, scuffed boots.

The girl's gaze slowly lifted, and for a brief moment, their eyes met.

Angel Elysphira blinked curiously, her dark eyes meeting James' red gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them until she finally broke it.

"You have beautiful eyes," she said sincerely.

James chuckled, a sly grin curling his lips as he sat down beside her. The only thing separating them was a small lunch basket. "You're not so bad yourself."

Noticing his glance at the basket, Angel instinctively placed her hand on it.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?" James asked.

He was quite curious about Angel Elysphira, that character Yvan had read quite a bit in the novel.

Angel tilted her head slightly, returning his question without missing a beat. "What about you? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"I asked first. You gotta answer first," he said, smirking as he leaned back against the stone wall, arms crossed casually behind his head.

Angel nodded, conceding. "That's fair." She lifted the basket onto her lap, hugging it close. "I don't like classes, so I left."

James laughed softly. "What a coincidence. I ditched because I don't like classes either."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"You don't like classes?" Angel asked, tilting her head in mild curiosity.

"Yeah, I'm not really into sitting around learning about little girls getting tortured or whatever," he replied with a sigh, reaching out toward her basket. "If it was about gold or pirates, maybe I'd be interested."

"What the hell are you doing, Miss Angel?" James asked, genuinely caught off guard.

"I heard men like this," she replied, her expression as neutral as ever.

James blinked, then let out a short laugh. "And who told you that? Prostitutes?"

"My sister."

"Yeah, a prostitute then," he said without hesitation, already knowing exactly who her sister was.

Angel's eyes widened slightly. "My sister is a prostitute?"

James gave her a look. "You bet she is. And she's teaching you all kinds of weird stuff. Sure, men like it, but what kind of sister tells you that? This is exactly why you need a best friend—someone normal to talk to. Now, how about you start gathering gold for me instead?" He smoothly pivoted the conversation back to his goal.

"Isn't this enough, then?" Angel asked, glancing down at her hand, still resting on him.

James laughed, shaking his head. "Reassure me, little angel—please tell me you haven't tried this on other guys."

"You're the first," Angel said matter-of-factly. "The others ran away."

"Wow, you're that scary?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," she said, pulling her hand back.

But before she could fully retreat, James caught her wrist. His eyes landed on the bracelet peeking out from under her sleeve—a black band with a small white jewel embedded in it.

"Now this," he said, his eyes lighting up with interest, "might do the job."

"It was my father's," Angel said softly, her gaze dropping to the bracelet.

"Ask him to give you another one," James replied with a shrug.

"He's dead."

James paused for half a second, then shrugged again, this time more casually. "Even creepier. You really shouldn't keep stuff from the dead. No wonder everyone's scared of you."

"..." Angel stayed quiet, staring at the bracelet.

"We got a deal?" James asked, already reaching for the clasp.

Angel didn't answer, her mind flashing back to something her father had once told her.

"Your mother gave it to me the day I became the most important person in her life. Her only and best ally."

"Is a best friend someone important?" Angel asked.

"That's literally what I've been trying to tell you for the last hour," James replied with a sigh. Without waiting for her consent, he unhooked the bracelet and slipped it onto his own wrist, which was already heavy with golden bands.

"Black really suits gold, don't you think?" He grinned, holding up his arm to admire the new addition. "Thanks, best friend."