I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

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."

"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."

Angel slapped his hand away. "You don't like exorcisms?"

James raised an eyebrow. "Wow, quick on the uptake. Or… are you reading my mind?"

"I can...feel it," she said quietly, her gaze locked onto his. Her dark eyes carried an intensity, as though she could peer right through him, down to his very soul. It was the kind of stare that might weird out most people, but James didn't flinch.

Instead, he smiled. "Bet you don't have any friends."

Angel's gaze faltered for the first time, dropping back to her basket as she opened it.

"Bullseye, huh?" James leaned forward, his grin widening. "Knew it. You've got this whole loner vibe going on. That creepy stare doesn't help either. You'd fit right in with Bonny's crew. She'd probably love you." He laughed.

His words might have sounded harsh, even insulting, but Angel didn't sense any malice behind them. They felt oddly lighthearted, like he was stating a fact without judgment. It was a contrast to the fake smiles and whispered gossip she'd grown used to. People always pretended to accept her, to tolerate her, because she was Elysphira—but behind those masks, she'd felt nothing but rejection.

James' blunt honesty, however rude, was… refreshing.

"If you want, I can be your friend, little Angel," James said with a grin.

"I don't need friends," Angel replied instantly, picking up a sandwich from her basket.

James shook his head, leaning back against the wall. "Oh, you need friends, trust me. Imagine getting stuck with enemies, the Royal Navy—you're gonna need someone to bail you out. Me? I've got friends, but they're the kind that need a little motivation to move their lazy asses. And by motivation, I mean gold." He sighed dramatically, thinking of Rackham and Bonny.

Angel nibbled on her sandwich, watching him curiously. "You're strange."

Ignoring her remark, James leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "I'll be your friend, but I want something in return."

Angel glanced down at her basket. "You want a sandwich?"

James waved a hand dismissively. "Not that. Food is just money down the drain—it vanishes as soon as you eat it. Gold, though? Gold sticks around forever. It's timeless. Priceless. It's the real deal." His tone was oddly serious for someone trying to make a point about friendship.

"You want gold?" Angel asked, her head tilting slightly.

"Exactly!" James said, leaning in with enthusiasm. "You're an Elysphira, right? You've gotta be loaded. Why not share a little of that wealth with your new best friend?"

Angel didn't flinch at his closeness. Instead, she met his gaze head-on, her own reflection faintly visible in his red eyes. "Is that… how you make friends?" She asked a bit curious.

James grinned. "Damn right. If you want me as a friend, you've gotta make the first move, Angel. And what better way to do that than by giving me gold? Think about it—it's the perfect gift!"

Angel blinked at him, then looked back at her basket. "But I don't have any gold with me." She paused, then held up her sandwich. "Does sharing a sandwich work?"

"No way in hell!" James groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I just explained why food's a bad deal! It's gone the moment you eat it!"

Disappointment weighed on his shoulders as he realized his grand plan was falling apart. He'd thought he could kill two birds with one stone: establishing a connection with the problematic Angel Elysphira and securing some gold while he was at it. But no—she had to offer sandwiches instead.

"Then I guess we can't be friends," Angel said.

James raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. "Hmm. Don't you have anything else worth my time? Or is it just another one of your boring sandwiches?"

She was stunning, no doubt about it—beautiful in a subtle way. No fancy clothes, no flashy jewelry, just her. But that didn't stop her from being... unusual.

Angel didn't reply right away, just stared at him for a beat. Then, to James' surprise, she set her sandwich down and reached out—her hand moving straight to his crotch.

"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."