I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist - Chapter 86

Chapter 86: Adam Being Adam

“Everyone is here.” She placed the book neatly on the table before continuing, “Let’s begin then.”

“I wonder what could be so urgent as to require five members of the Order,” Oliver said, leaning back in his chair with a curious smile.

“I’m wondering the same,” Riccardo replied thoughtfully. “They wouldn’t have selected us and formed a team like this by chance, would they?”

“Definitely not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you, Riccardo,” Oliver added with a sly chuckle.

Riccardo grimaced.

“Enough with your childish bickering,” Sergius interrupted them. “It’s unbecoming of your status.” His stern gaze shifted toward Louise. “Let’s hear what this is about.”

Louise nodded. “I’ve been tasked with leading this team on a rather peculiar case,” she said, pressing a button on the desk.

A holographic projection materialized at the center of the oval table. Suspended in midair was a dark emblem—a black cross-sword shimmering against a white wall. Below it, in stark lettering, read: Dolce Azzurrina.

“Hm? That name rings a bell,” Oliver muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I feel like I’ve come across it somewhere before.”

“It’s the Italian Mafia,” Riccardo answered immediately, familiar to it. He turned to Louise, a spark of understanding in his eyes. “I think I see where this is going—and why I was chosen for this team.”

“The Italian Mafia?” Sergius’s brow furrowed deeply. “Isn’t that a matter for Italy’s law enforcement to handle?”

“Ordinarily, yes,” Louise replied. “The Italian national police would be more than capable of managing mafia-related cases. But recently, their efforts have hit an impasse. A few months ago, one of their forensic crime evidence laboratories was attacked. Key evidence and weapons were stolen during the raid, but among the stolen items was something of particular concern: a torch.”

With a gesture, Louise swiped her hand across the console. A new image replaced the emblem—a strange artifact resembling a torch. Its ancient surface bore faded, cryptic inscriptions, much of which had been eroded by time. The object radiated an ominous aura even through the projection.

“What is that?” Oliver asked.

“This,” Louise began, her tone darkening, “is the murder weapon the mafia took. A year ago, it was used in a horrifying crime—a high school student burned his entire class alive with this torch before turning it on himself. Only one student managed to survive, and her testimony raised troubling questions.”

“The police initially dismissed the girl’s story as the ramblings of someone traumatized by witnessing such an atrocity. But our Italian branch took her words more seriously. According to her, the perpetrator—the boy who committed the massacre—appeared possessed, as if controlled by some otherworldly force.

“We conducted an investigation into his family and his history. It turns out that his behavior had changed drastically after he stumbled upon this artifact during a school field trip to Florence. From that moment on, he was never the same.”

“So, the Torch served as an intermediary for a demonic entity,” Luna-Evelyn concluded.

“Highly likely,” Louise confirmed with a nod. “Our research traces the Torch’s origins back to the fifteenth century. Interestingly, this coincides with records of Girolamo Savonarola, a controversial figure in Italy at the time. He reportedly possessed a weapon he claimed was crafted by the Savior himself—a torch. He used it to burn his enemies alive during his conflict with the Pope.”

“And now the Italian Mafia has gotten their hands on it,” Riccardo muttered darkly.

“They have,” Louise replied. “And worse, they’ve used it. Over a hundred members of Italy’s law enforcement have already been killed—burned alive. The few survivors have spoken of surreal, even supernatural forces at play.”

“So, what’s the plan? Are we taking on the entire Italian Mafia?” Oliver asked with a sarcastic chuckle.

“Our mission isn’t to dismantle the Mafia,” Louise clarified. “Our focus is to recover the Torch and exorcise anyone who’s come into contact with it. Intelligence suggests a smuggling operation is taking place tomorrow. An executive from the Mafia will be present. An ambush has already been planned. Once we capture him, we’ll extract information about the Torch’s location.”

“Well, I’ll admit, that’s impressive,” Riccardo said, his eyebrows raised. “Seems like we’re more resourceful than the Italian authorities.”

“It’s thanks to long-term preparation,” Louise replied, unfazed. “Since the Torch’s existence came to light, we’ve infiltrated the Mafia with one of our agents. That’s how we’ve managed to stay ahead.”

“When and where do we leave?” Oliver asked, leaning forward.

“We depart tonight. A flight has already been arranged for Rome.”

“Rome, huh?” Riccardo’s lips curled into a grin. “It’s been ages since I’ve been there. Count on me to give you guys the grand tour.”

“This isn’t a sightseeing trip,” Sergius growled at him.

Luna-Evelyn remained quiet, her expression unreadable. It was just another job—though this one carried a heavier complexity than most.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated. Pulling it out, she saw an incoming message displayed on the screen. Her brow furrowed slightly as she read it.

It was rare for Luna-Evelyn to receive a personal message—extremely rare, in fact. The room seemed to freeze as everyone glanced at her confused. In the Order, all official communications were strictly handled through specialized contact devices. A phone message was something far more personal.

Luna-Evelyn, however, paid no mind to the stares. Her focus was on the screen.

The sender was a contact she had recently added: Adam.

[Subject: Krainel Salvador. Rendezvous location: Fountain of Ocryphia City. Time: 12:00 hours. Acceptable deviation: 60 minutes. Adam Crane.]

Her eyes widened as she read the message.

The exaggerated protocol-like message was undeniably Adam-like, but the mention of Krainel Salvador immediately drew her attention. That name alone was enough to set her into motion. Without hesitation, she stood abruptly.

“What’s this? A message from your boyfriend?” Oliver teased, smirking.

She ignored him completely, turning her attention to Louise.

“I have urgent matters to attend to,” Luna-Evelyn said. “I may not be able to participate in the mission.”

“Are you kidding us, brat?” Sergius snapped. “These are orders from the higher-ups.”

“Leave it, Mr. Sergius,” Louise said, raising a hand to stop him. She regarded Luna-Evelyn for a moment before tossing her a small, round artifact that resembled a compass.

“I hope, for your sake, it’s important,” Louise said curtly.

Catching the artifact, Luna-Evelyn gave a slight nod. Without another word, she turned on her heel and swiftly exited the room.

“No way…” Riccardo muttered under his breath, his words lingering in the charged silence that followed her departure.

***

Ocryphia City was renowned for its breathtaking beauty, a place where modernity and artistry intertwined seamlessly. Among its many marvels stood a grand fountain, a towering masterpiece that shot arcs of water into the air with graceful precision. The cascading streams formed beautiful patterns that seemed to dance in the sunlight, captivating anyone who paused to admire it. Families, friends, and couples often gathered here, drawn to the serene charm of the fountain and its surroundings.

Among the crowd that day was a lone young man who, despite his best efforts to blend in, drew considerable attention.

He was strikingly unique. His hair was an unkempt mess of pure white—a shade that, while not impossible, was rare enough to set him apart immediately. His hazel eyes held a quiet intensity.

His alabaster skin appeared almost unnaturally pale, as if he had never seen the light of day. Rather than detracting from his appearance, it only added to the air of uniqueness that surrounded him.

Yet what truly made him stand out was his attire. Clad in a white lab coat, the kind typically reserved for sterile laboratories, he looked entirely out of place in the lively atmosphere of the fountain plaza.

Unbothered by the curious stares, the young man sat on a bench near the fountain, engrossed in a book. He seemed oblivious to the world around him, his gaze fixed on the pages as his fingers absently turned them. The title was one of the many authored by his adoptive father and creator, the mad scientist Victor Frankenstein.

With one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his lab coat and the other holding the book, he exuded an air of cool detachment. His striking features and presence naturally caught the attention of a group of young women passing by.

“U–Um… Excuse me,” One of them finally mustered the courage to say, her voice soft and hesitant.

Adam slowly closed his book and turned his head toward the voice. His gaze landed on a trio of girls, all whispering nervously among themselves. The one who had spoken stood at the front, her cheeks already flushed a deep red under his steady scrutiny. Up close, Adam’s unusual appearance was even more arresting, and her composure faltered further.

“May I help you?” Adam asked, his voice carrying as always sincerity that held a peculiar charm.

“…!” The girls froze, their nervous whispers ceasing altogether. There was something undeniably captivating about him—he was unlike anyone they had ever encountered.

Seeing the girl at the front falter, Adam tilted his head slightly and stood up. Without hesitation, he reached out a hand. His fingers brushed against her forehead in a gesture that was clinical yet oddly gentle.

“…!” Her face burned brighter, her breath hitching at the unexpected contact.

“Your cheeks are flushed,” Adam observed. His expression remained thoughtful, as if analyzing a problem. “Your temperature seems elevated. Have you been feeling unwell?”

The girl’s mouth opened, but no words came out, her embarrassment rendering her speechless. The other two girls exchanged wide-eyed glances, unsure whether to intervene or let the interaction play out.

Adam withdrew his hand at the lack of responses. “If you’re experiencing symptoms, it would be wise to hydrate and seek shade. Heat exhaustion is common in areas like this.”

“U—Um…” The girl finally stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She hadn’t expected such a measured and scientific response.

Adam furrowing his brows, started analyzing her state with his scientist’s mind. “Elevated heart rate, increased blood flow to the cheeks, dilated pupils… classic signs of the ‘fight-or-flight’ response,” he murmured to himself, more to himself than to the girls.

He observed her further. “However, the dilated pupils and the lack of any aggressive posturing suggest a different trigger. Perhaps… a social anxiety response coupled with a strong… attraction?”

He frowned slightly. “Attraction? An interesting phenomenon, it may be because of my unusual appearance. Does it bother you?”

“N-No…um, I mean yes!”

“It appears to induce a temporary state of cognitive dissonance. Your logical processing seems to be significantly impaired.”

He turned to the other girls, who were still staring at him with wide eyes. “And this appears to be contagious.”

Somehow the two girls understood what he meant and they strangely felt embarrassed as they averted their gazes.

The girl at the front, seemingly regaining some composure, stammered, “I-I… I was just…”

“Observing.” Adam interrupted. “I understand. Perhaps a controlled breathing exercise might be beneficial. Inhale deeply, hold for five seconds, exhale slowly. Repeat as needed.”

He demonstrated, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“This should help regulate your autonomic nervous system and reduce the physiological manifestations of anxiety,” he explained. “Focus on your breath. Observe the sensation of the air entering and leaving your lungs.”

The girl completely caught by Adam’s eyes and speech did as she was asked.

He continued to observe her, noting any signs of improvement. “There. Do you feel your heart rate slowing down?”

He asked gently placed his index and middle fingers on the side of her neck, just below her jawline, where he could feel the pulsation of her carotid artery.

Unfortunately, her heart rate only soared. It was simply too much for her to bear—the proximity, the intensity of his gaze.

Adam furrowed his brows once more, his scientific hypothesis failing miserably.

Before he could delve deeper into her physiological state, he was interrupted.

“Adam Crane.”

He turned to see Luna-Evelyn standing there.

“Haa~”

-Thud!

At the same time, overwhelmed, the girl crumpled to her knees, supported by her friends, her cheeks completely red.