I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 541 You are not her

His fingers slid from her cheeks to her throat and tightened.

Her eyes flew open, wide with shock and sudden, terrible fear.

A sharp gasp tore from her mouth, strangled and useless.

He lifted her slightly off the floor, just enough that her feet barely brushed the stone beneath her. Her weight meant nothing to him. She dangled from his grip like a doll.

Her hands flew to his wrist instinctively, clawing and scratching, but his skin might as well have been iron. Her nails broke against him.

"What—" she choked out, the word barely a whisper through her compressed throat.

Dante’s smile did not waver. If anything, it grew wider. Colder. More terrible.

"Did you think," he said softly, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur, "that I would not notice?"

Her eyes bulged. Her face, still wearing Alina’s features, twisted with panic.

"I—I don’t—"

"You smell wrong," he continued calmly, tightening his grip just enough to make her gasp. "Beneath the borrowed scent, you smell like rot. Like deception. Like the elders who sent you."

She thrashed, her disguise flickering at the edges as her concentration failed.

"Please—"

"You walked like her. You talked like her. You even made that small face she makes when she is nervous." His eyes darkened. "But you are not her."

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"She is alive," Dante said. It was not a question.

The imposter nodded frantically, or tried to, as much as his grip allowed.

"Where?"

"I—I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. I just take the forms—"

Dante’s expression did not change, but something in the air grew heavier. Darker.

"You will tell me everything," he said quietly. "Every detail. Every word they said. Every place they mentioned. And then you will pray that she is unharmed."

The imposter sobbed, her disguise flickering wildly now, revealing glimpses of her true form beneath.

Dante held her effortlessly, his face carved from stone, his eyes burning with something ancient and terrible that made the very air around them feel heavier.

"And shift to your true form," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Now."

He did not like that she had taken the form of his Little Dove. The sight of her wearing Alina’s face, speaking with Alina’s voice, using Alina’s expressions, made something dark curl in his chest.

The imposter trembled in his grip, her disguise flickering wildly. Then, with a shudder that ran through her entire body, she shifted.

Her features melted and reformed. Alina’s soft face disappeared, replaced by something else entirely.

She was pretty, with silver hair falling in soft waves and clear blue eyes set in a delicate, beautiful face.

Dante threw her away from him like garbage.

She hit the stone floor hard, skidding several feet before coming to a stop. She coughed violently, her hands flying to her throat, gasping for the air he had denied her.

"Cough, cough," she choked out, tears streaming down her ordinary, pretty face.

Dante looked at her expressionlessly. No pity. No anger. Just cold, flat nothing.

"You thought you would succeed with such a lame plan?" he asked, his voice calm and conversational. "You thought I would not notice?"

She looked up at him, tears mixing with the fear in her brown eyes.

"I—I studied her. I copied everything—"

"You copied movements," he interrupted. "You did not copy her soul."

He took a step closer, and she flinched, scrambling backward across the floor.

"I did not become Lord without reason," he said quietly. "I did not survive by being blind. Did you really think a borrowed face and a stolen scent would fool me?"

She shook her head frantically, tears spilling.

"Please—I was hired. I didn’t have a choice—"

"Everyone has a choice." His voice was ice. "You chose money over morality. You chose to help them take her."

"Please. I just did as I was instructed. Please just let me go," she cried, her ordinary, pretty face streaked with tears as she scrambled backward on the stone floor. Her hands trembled violently, reaching out in desperate supplication. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Dante did not respond with words.

He simply raised one hand, and the shadows in the corner of the throne room began to move.

They shifted and churned, deepening and thickening until forms emerged from the darkness. Tall figures, faceless and silent, wrapped in shadows that moved like living cloaks. Dante’s shadow guard. They stepped forward without a sound, their presence making the air temperature drop several degrees.

The shapeshifter’s eyes widened in horror.

"No, no, please, no, please—"

"Take her there," Dante said with a dark smile that did not reach his eyes.

Her face went pale. "What? Where? Where are you taking me? Please, I’ll tell you everything, I’ll—"

She did not get a chance to finish.

The shadow guards reached her in two silent strides. Their hands closed around her arms, and the darkness swallowed her whole. One moment she was there, crying and pleading on the floor. The next, she was gone, taken somewhere no one wanted to imagine.

The shadows settled back into their corners, still and patient, waiting for their next command.

The throne room was silent again.

Dante stood alone in the vast space, his back straight, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, he simply stared at nothing, his dark eyes focused on some middle distance only he could see.

Then he tilted his head slightly, almost casually, and spoke to the empty air.

"Alright, you three fossils hiding in your dusty little tower. I know you’re watching."

His voice was calm, almost bored, like he was commenting on the weather.

"Elder Roman, the one with the grand plans and the terrible execution. Elder Haron, the one who shakes when things get slightly intense. And Elder Hellder, who I’m pretty sure just follows the other two around because he has nothing better to do."

He paused, letting that sink in.

"Cute trick with the shapeshifter, by the way. Very creative. Very amateur hour. Did you really think that would work? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice someone wearing my Little Dove’s face?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"I became Shadow Lord. I didn’t get here by being stupid. So here’s the deal, you three retired villains who clearly have too much time on your hands."

He stepped forward, his voice dropping slightly.

"You have something of mine. My beautiful dove with a warm smile, completely unaware that she’s been adopted by a bunch of washed-up elders with a kidnapping hobby."

Another pause.

"I’m going to come get her. Obviously. That’s not the question. The question is whether you’re going to be smart about this or stupid about this."

He smiled, and it was not a nice smile.

"Smart looks like this: you tell me exactly where she is, you don’t touch a hair on her head, and maybe I only break a few of your favorite things. Stupid looks like this: you make me search, you make me wait, you make me worried."

He tilted his head the other way.

"I really hope you choose smart. For your sakes. But honestly, a small part of me hopes you choose stupid. It’s been a while since I had fun."

He waved lazily at the air.

"Anyway. The clock’s ticking. Think about it. I’ll be there soon."

The connection cut.

Meanwhile, Elder Haron stared at the now blank space where Dante’s image had been. His hand was shaking visibly.

"He... he knows," Haron whispered.

Behind him, Elder Roman’s smug expression had frozen on his face. He and Elder Hellder had come here some time ago to see Alina. However, what he saw on the screen had shocked him.

Elder Hellder looked like he was calculating the fastest way out of the room.

Alina sat on the bed, watching both the blank space and the elders’ reactions. Her heart was pounding, but something else was happening too.

Warmth.

Warmth spreading through her chest.

He was coming. He had called her his Little Dove. He had sounded almost casual about the whole thing, like rescuing her from idiot villains was just another Tuesday.

She pressed her hand to her heart.

He was coming.

Only she knew how her heart had almost stopped beating when she saw him cup that woman’s face.

For one terrible moment, through the shimmering screen, she had watched Dante’s hands rise and frame the imposter’s cheeks with that familiar gentleness. The world had seemed to freeze. Her chest had constricted so tightly she could not breathe.

But then his hands had moved lower. They had found her throat. They had tightened.

And Alina’s heart had settled, though it still hammered against her ribs for completely different reasons now.

He was so powerful. So impossibly powerful. He had recognized an exact copy of her, a perfect imitation that had fooled everyone else, and he had seen through it in seconds. He had not hesitated. He had not doubted. He had simply known.

The thought settled into her chest, warm and strange.

Then another thought followed.

What did he see in her?

What could someone like him possibly see in someone like her?

If a Dante imposter had approached her, wearing his face, speaking with his voice, moving with his quiet grace, she did not think she would have recognized the difference. She would have believed. She would have trusted. She would have been fooled completely.

But he had not been fooled.

He had known her. Really known her. Not just her face or her voice, but something deeper. Something an imposter could never copy.