No One’s Pov

"I-I didn’t mean-" Vivien stammered, her face burning.

"It was just a... physical observation!"

"A very detailed one," he countered, his siren eyes tracking the flush on her cheeks. "But I’m afraid the ’no hair’ version of the principal has been retired. The board decided to bring in someone a bit more... refined to handle the department’s recent ’irregularities.’"

He straightened up, his height making her feel like a tiny, cornered rabbit in her baggy hoodie.

"And since you’ve spent the morning slamming into me, I suppose I should introduce myself properly."

He stepped back, gesturing for her to enter the office she was so afraid of.

"I’m the guest lecturer and the new head of the project board," he said, his smirk returning with a sharpness. "But you can just call me the man whose suit you ruined. Now, come in, Vivien. We have five months of ’unauthorized absence’ to discuss."

Vivien’s heart did a terrifying drop. He knows my name. And he’s the one in charge of my department?

"You..." she whispered, her hands trembling. "Who are you really?"

But she didn’t say it out loud. She wasn’t brave enough to do so- not with the way he loomed over her like a dark omen.

Just then, the heavy silence of the hallway was broken by hurried footsteps. Her old principle came scurrying toward the office, looking like he’d just run a marathon in a suit. He was followed by a man who made Vivien’s heart skip a beat.

Wait... isn’t he the one from yesterday? She stared at the man behind the principal.

It was the polite assistant who had asked if she was okay after she almost got flattened by that black car.

A cold realization washed over her. If the assistant was here, then that meant the man standing right in front of her was the person sitting in the back of that car.

I hope he doesn’t recognize me, or else this is going to be beyond embarrassing... She quickly lowered her head, hiding behind her bangs and her thick glasses, praying she could just blend into the floorboards.

"I apologize, Mr. Valente, for making you wait!" the principal said, mopping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. He looked absolutely terrified.

"I also heard a student from my university spilled coffee on you this morning. I am truly ashamed for what happened! Give me her details, and I will have her transferred out of this university today!"

He bowed low, his voice trembling with desperation to please the man in the expensive (and stained) suit.

Vivien’s eyes widened behind her lenses. Her neck snapped up as she stared at the man- Mr. Valente.

Transfer? Today?! Her mind raced. If she got kicked out now, after being in a coma for five months, her academic career was over. She was beyond dead, she was buried. Her eyes darted around in a panic, her breathing hitching as she waited for him to point his finger at her and seal her fate.

Mr. Valente shifted his gaze toward Vivien. For a split second, the corner of his lip lifted in a tiny, almost unnoticeable gesture. No one else in the room saw it.

"It’s okay," he muttered, his voice smooth.

The principal blinked, looking relieved. "Oh, thank you, sir! You are too kind- "

"I will handle her myself," Valente added, his eyes never leaving Vivien’s.

A chill swept over her entire body. The way he said handle her didn’t sound like academic discipline, it sounded like a threat. It was the same tone Dante used when he was about to lock her in the room or worse.

Yeah, I’m so dead, she thought, her fingers trembling against her bag. I escaped a book just to get caught in a real-life horror story.

Finally, the principal noticed Vivien standing by the door, his eyes narrowing as he finally recognize her presence.

"You? Why are you here?" he asked coldly, his tone dripping with the impatience of a man who didn’t want his important meeting interrupted by a "troublemaker."

She looked up, clutching the straps of her bag. "Uh... I was sent here by Mr. Daniel... to discuss my five-month absence..." Her voice slowed down and faded as she felt the weight of Mr. Valente’s gaze boring into the side of her head.

The principal’s scalp seemed to tangle in frustration. He clearly wanted to erupt and scold her right then and there, but he had to maintain a professional face in front of this big shot. He couldn’t let a prestigious guest see how messy his student management was.

"Leave. Come back later," he dismissed her with a flick of his hand, his voice tight with suppressed anger.

Vivien didn’t need to be told twice. She nodded frantically and walked out, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.

The moment she was back in the hallway, Vivien let out a breath. She felt relieved, as if she had just escaped a devil’s den with her soul still intact. But she couldn’t shake the image of those siren eyes- they were so sharp, so piercing, as if they were staring deep into her soul.

As she walked toward her next building, she began to mutter to herself,

"Can this be possible?" she whispered, her brow furrowed behind her glasses. "Is he... Dante? There’s no way, right? I mean, this is real life. But this is way too much to be a coincidence. The face, the vibe, the way he looks at me..."

She stopped in the middle of the corridor, biting her lip. "But if it were Dante... wouldn’t he have recognized me already? Dante wouldn’t just sit there and let a principal dismiss me. He would have claimed me the second I walked in."

She thought back to his cold, arrogant behavior in the office. To him, she was just a clumsy student who ruined his suit.

"According to his behavior, it seems like he didn’t even know who I was," she muttered, feeling a strange conflicting mix of relief and a tiny sharp pang of hurt.

She shook her head, trying to clear the fog.

"Maybe I’m just traumatized. Maybe every tall, handsome guy with an attitude problem is going to look like a fictional mafia boss to me now. Get a grip, Vivien. You have a code to write and a life to rebuild."

Just as she turned to leave, she noticed a small reflection in the window glass.

Standing a few feet behind her in the hallway was the assistant from earlier. He was just standing there, watching her with a neutral professional expression.

"Miss Vivien?" he called out politely.

Vivien jumped, nearly dropping her bag.

"Y-yes?"

"Mr. Valente has requested your presence in the seminar hall at 2:00 PM," he said, checking a tablet. "He says since you’ve ruined his ’working attire,’ you’ll be acting as his personal student assistant for the duration of the project board meetings."

Vivien’s jaw dropped. "Personal assistant? Because of some coffee? Isn’t that a bit... extreme?"

The assistant gave her a look that was almost pitying. "Mr. Valente doesn’t believe in accidents, Miss Vivien. Only debts. I suggest you don’t be late. He hates waiting even more than he hates latte stains."

The assistant glanced down at his watch, "And you better hurry up now, Miss. Being late to an auditorium full of people is a special kind of social suicide."

Wasting no more time, Vivien turned and bolted toward the auditorium hall.

When she burst through the double doors, she gasped.

The hall was decorated beautifully- banners, floral arrangements, and spotlights that made the space feel more like a grand theater than a university hall.

Hundreds of students had already gathered to hear the speech of their new temporary head.

Before she could even catch her breath, a stack of papers was shoved into her hands by a stressed-out faculty member. "Follow him. Now!" they whispered, pointing toward the stage.

Vivien had no choice. She followed the "grumpy suit" as he stepped onto the stage with a confidence.

The moment they both stood under the bright spotlights, a gasp and a wave of whispers swept through the crowd. Every single eye was on them.

Damn it, she muttered, hiding her face behind the stack of papers.

She had never been famous on campus. in fact, she had spent her years as a ghost- present but invisible. But today, thanks to this man, she was center of everyone’s attention.

She stood a few paces behind him, cursing his very existence in her mind.

As he began to speak, his deep voice echoed through the speakers. He completely ignored her, acting as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture holding his documents.

Vivien scanned the room and saw the reaction immediately, half the girls in the front rows were practically drooling, their eyes wide with love struck admiration.

Well, she thought, stealing a side glance at his sharp profile, the way the light caught his jawline and the curve of his gorgeous siren eyes. I understand, girls. I truly understand.

Suddenly, the more she looked at him, the more the world around her seemed to blur. The microphone, the university hall- it all started to feel like a dream again.

She felt like she was back in the mansion, looking at a man who had once promised to burn the world down for her.

She was lost in a daze, trapped in her own head, until a sharp burning sensation hit her. It wasn’t physical, but it was intense- a gaze so heavy it felt like a needle pricking the back of her head.

Vivien snapped out of it, her eyes darting toward the crowd. The source was coming from the back of the hall. There were too many students, too many faces, but she knew someone was watching her with a terrifying intensity.

Her eyes searched frantically, moving from row to row. The air in the auditorium suddenly felt cold.

"Is... is he here right now?" she muttered under her breath.

Just as Mr. Valente reached the climax of his speech, he paused, his eyes sliding toward Vivien for a fraction of a second.

He noticed her pale face and her wandering eyes. His hand reached back slightly, his fingers brushing against the papers she held, a silent touch that felt like a command to stay focused.

But Vivien couldn’t look at him. She was too busy staring at the place she could feel the gaze from.

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TO BE CONTINUED