Dove Cult and Doughnut Diplomacy

In which a fan club becomes a cult, I survive pastry-based assassination, and Mirielle's halo slips just enough to see the girl underneath.

 HOLY HELL IS STILL HELL

The garden statue used to be a vaguely accurate representation of the founder of the Academy, Lady Ysmeria Elcroft. She'd been a powerful archmage, war general, and — as the first-year guidebook noted — "a woman of aggressive cheekbones."

Now?

Now she had my face.

Or, more precisely, someone had carved my face onto it. Badly.

"Is that a pimple?" I muttered.

"No," Mirielle said, eyes wide with horror. "It's... a blessing blemish. That's how the Faith of the Dove interprets humility."

"They're calling it what?"

"A holy pockmark."

I stared at the congregation — a dozen students in white robes, chanting prayers to "Saint Kael of the Awkward Fall." One waved a posterboard depicting me mid-trip, face frozen in eternal "oh no."

Another lit incense shaped like a spoon.

This was it. My villain origin story.

 PANIC, PASTRIES, AND PROPHECY

"Let me get this straight," I said, pacing in circles near the academy greenhouse. "I trip. I accidentally heal a guy. The System calls me an anomaly. And now I'm being worshipped by enchanted econ majors."

"It escalated quickly," Mirielle admitted, nibbling a croissant nervously.

"You helped them design pamphlets!"

"I didn't help! I just—look, one of them had calligraphy experience and I thought it was nice—"

"Nice? Mirielle, I'm one step away from being canonized and they tried to knight Fluffernox."

As if summoned, the gremlin-beast waddled into view with a tiny cardboard crown stuck to its head and a chalice of what I could only pray was lemonade.

"Ka-kaaael," Fluffernox chirped, hiccupping holy sparkles.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Is this payback for all the times I mocked divine interventions?"

The sky did not answer.

 DOUGHNUT DIPLOMACY

In the shade of the rose arches, Mirielle sat beside me with a box of pastries and a look of such genuine remorse that I couldn't maintain my sarcasm shield.

"They think you're a messiah," she said quietly.

"I snore during meditation."

"They think that's a metaphor for the Dreaming Plane."

I bit into a jelly doughnut with the weariness of a man tasting his last moment of peace. "This was supposed to be a low-profile semester. Study, survive, don't seduce anyone."

Mirielle smiled at that — a little, real smile. Not the kind saints were trained to wear. "I tried to tell them you're just... you. That you're tired and sharp-tongued and very much not here to save the world."

"Did they believe you?"

"No. One of them quoted your 'Library Soliloquy' like scripture."

I choked on powdered sugar.

"They what?"

"'I do not wish to rise. I only wish for silence and cinnamon tea,'" she quoted solemnly. "They call it the Book of Kael, Chapter One."

I dropped my forehead into my hands.

"I'm a meme and a messiah."

Mirielle placed a hand over mine, soft and steady.

"You're also someone I trust."

That shut me up.

Which was unfortunate timing, because that was when the duel started.

 THE DUEL OF DIVINE PASTRY

"YOU DARE DEFY THE BLESSED ONE'S TASTE?"

The scream came from a tall noble student in gilded robes, holding a fruit tart like it was Excalibur. Across from him stood another acolyte, wielding a crème brûlée torch with terrifying zeal.

"The Holy One prefers chocolate," the torchbearer snarled. "It is written!"

"It was inferred!"

People were drawing food-themed weapons. A lemon tart was already airborne.

I turned to Mirielle.

"I'm going to die here. Buried under custard and expectations."

Mirielle stood up, eyes blazing.

"ENOUGH!" she shouted.

A burst of holy light radiated from her.

The duelists dropped their pastries.

The crowd fell silent.

Mirielle looked terrifyingly divine. But then — as the light faded — I saw her trembling.

She hated this too.

And somehow, that made me like her more.

QUIET UNDER THE VINES

After the crowd dispersed (with minimal pastry casualties), we returned to the shade. Fluffernox snored in a teacup. Birds chirped like nothing had happened.

Mirielle leaned her head against the vine-covered bench.

"I wasn't supposed to be a saint," she said.

I looked at her.

"I was supposed to become a weather mage. Run away from temple politics. Open a bakery. Maybe fall in love with someone... mortal. Imperfect."

"You really aimed low."

She smiled again. This time, tired and honest.

"What about you?"

"Me?" I shrugged. "I was supposed to die. And stay dead."

Silence stretched between us.

And then I felt it — that dangerous, delicate shift.

The moment when a joke could turn into something real.

I stood up.

"I'm going to go yell at a statue until it gives me my dignity back."

Mirielle didn't stop me.

But as I turned away, I heard her whisper, soft as blessing:

"You're more than you think."

I didn't answer.

But something in my chest twisted.

THE POSSESSION INCIDENT

It happened in the late afternoon.

Students were gathered in the garden, planning a "Blessed Kael Recital." Someone had written a ballad. Someone else was sketching Fluffernox in stained glass.

And then, mid-prayer, a student collapsed.

They screamed. Not with pain — but with static. Their eyes turned black. Magic warped around them like cracked glass. Birds dropped from the air. Fluffernox yelped and dove into a hedge.

I sprinted toward them, shouting for a healer.

The student turned — not fully human anymore.

Their voice echoed in three tones:

"YOU ARE NOT KAEL."

I froze.

"YOU ARE A VESSEL. THE VESSEL MUST NOT WAKE."

Mirielle appeared beside me, light blazing in her palms.

The System pinged.

SYSTEM ALERT: FOREIGN ENTITY DETECTED. INITIATING EXORCISM PROTOCOL.

I had no idea what that meant.

But I did the only thing I could do.

I shouted the dumbest insult I could think of.

"Your haircut looks like a haunted omelette!"

Magic surged from me.

The spirit screamed.

Mirielle added her light.

Together, we blasted the shadow out of the student's body and into the sky.

Silence returned.

The student collapsed — breathing, alive.

But I was frozen.

Not by fear.

By the thing the spirit had said.

You are not Kael. You are a vessel.

NEXT TIME, ON Yes, I Was Reborn. No, I Don't Want a Harem. Stop Looking at Me Like That:

Belladonna tries to explain why her exorcism circle summoned an eldritch houseplant.

Seraphina challenges Mirielle to a duel of grace. Spoiler: it's a tea party.

The System pings a new warning: "Sentinel presence detected. Security anomaly imminent."

Kael tries to nap and ends up solving a haunting.

Because of course he does.