My Life in Wednesday With a Vampire System

Chapter 155 154 : Barry Dort

Inside the Vice Principal's office at Nevermore, Barry Dort sat behind his desk, fingers loosely folded, a practiced smile resting on his face as he looked at Bianca.

"Bianca," he said, his tone smooth and controlled, "you continue to be exactly what this institution expects from its students."

He let the words settle, watching her carefully.

"Disciplined, capable, and more importantly," he added as he leaned back slightly, "reliable."

Bianca didn't return the smile.

She stood still, her posture straight, her expression neutral but attentive, already aware this wasn't just praise.

"You are aware," Barry continued, his tone shifting just enough to signal the real point, "that this year's gala carries more weight than usual."

"With everything that has happened in Jericho, the board expects stability, visibility, control," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "This event is not just a celebration. It is a statement."

His gaze sharpened slightly as he watched her.

"And I need someone who can ensure that statement is delivered without… complications."

Bianca spoke then, her voice steady.

"And you think that's me."

"I know it is," Barry replied without hesitation. "You have influence among the students, you understand how to manage people, and you don't let emotion interfere with execution."

"I want you to be the working force behind this year's gala," he said. "Coordination, supervision, and decisions where necessary. You will have authority."

He paused again, shorter this time, his eyes fixed on her.

"And I will need your full support."

Bianca held his gaze, silent for a moment, reading past what he was saying, because this wasn't just about organizing an event.

Nothing here ever was.

"What exactly am I supporting?" she asked.

Barry's smile didn't change, but something behind it did.

"Order," he said, his tone even, deliberate, leaving the word to carry more than it should.

"And I will also need you to persuade Morticia Addams to have her mother attend the gala,"

Bianca's expression remained composed, but her gaze sharpened slightly, the shift subtle but present.

"And if I disagree?" she asked, her voice steady.

"Of course you can," he said, leaning back slightly, his tone still polite, still measured. "But you are a scholarship student."

He let the implication settle.

"And those positions," he continued, his voice calm but carrying weight, "are easier to reconsider than most people assume."

Bianca didn't respond immediately.

She understood exactly what he was asking, and more importantly, how he expected it to be done.

This wasn't just about influence or organization, he wanted her to use her siren abilities, to push past consent, to make sure Morticia Addams' mother showed up whether she intended to or not.

Her expression didn't change, but there was a shift in her gaze now, something colder, more deliberate.

"You're asking me to use my siren song," she said, her tone controlled, not loud but precise, "on a parent, to secure funding for a school event."

Barry didn't correct her.

He didn't deny it either.

"That depends on how you choose to interpret your capabilities," he replied smoothly.

Bianca held his gaze, letting the silence stretch just long enough.

"Does Principal Weems know you're trying to force a student into something like this," she asked, her voice steady, the question direct.

For the first time, something faint shifted behind Barry's expression.

Not surprise.

Something closer to dismissal.

"Weems may occupy the principal's chair for now," he said, leaning back again, his tone still controlled, "but her position is… temporary."

He let that sit, watching her carefully.

"She is losing control of this institution," he continued, quieter now. "And when that happens, someone has to ensure stability."

His eyes didn't leave hers.

"I prefer to plan ahead."

Barry didn't stop her. "Take your time," he said as Bianca reached the door, his tone calm, controlled. "Just remember what's at stake."

Bianca didn't look back. "I already know," she replied, and walked out.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving the office in a quiet that felt heavier than before.

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then the lights flickered.

Barry's gaze lifted immediately, his posture straightening as the overhead light stuttered, dimmed, then flickered again.

"…maintenance really needs to get their act together," he muttered, though there was no real annoyance in his voice.

The light went out.

Completely.

The rest followed, one after another, until the office dropped into a dim, unstable glow from the fireplace.

Barry stepped away from the desk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked around. "Who's there," he said, his voice sharper now, not loud, but controlled.

No answer came.

Instead, the fire shifted.

The flames bent unnaturally, pulling inward before rising higher, darker smoke gathering instead of drifting up the chimney.

Barry's expression changed.

Just slightly.

"…this isn't funny."

The smoke thickened, but not the way smoke should. It pulled inward, deliberate, taking shape the way something takes shape when it already knows what it is.

A face emerged. Goat-like, horns curling outward in long lazy arcs, hollow eyes settling right on Barry and not moving.

Barry didn't move either. His brain did the thing brains do when they have no language for something: it stalled.

Then he stepped back. "What the hell are you?" he said, the words coming out harder than he meant them to.

The fire flared — sudden, sharp — and the smoke surged across the room with a directness that left no room to misread it.

Barry turned, shifted his weight, started to step. The smoke took him anyway, finding his mouth and his nose and his eyes with a patience that was almost worse than violence, sealing off every opening he had left.

The room held the sound of something struggling. Then it didn't.

The fire settled. The lights flickered once. The office went quiet.

***

A/N: It's decided—the next world will be .

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