I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 380 Harm

Meanwhile, Riccardo forwarded the clip to his friend and waited impatiently for the edited version. The moment it landed in his inbox, he opened it with greedy excitement. The video played smoothly, twisted and stitched until the scene looked intimate, almost tender, as if Alina had willingly leaned into him. His lips curved upward into a disgusting smile, the kind of smile that made even the dim light in his room seem uneasy.

"Hah... Alina," he whispered, stroking the edge of his screen with sick pleasure. "Now your boyfriend will dump you. You’ll have no one left but me. You always come back to me."

He didn’t notice the shadows swirling in the corner of his room.

He opened his social media page, typed Alina’s name, and added a caption dripping with false affection.

My love.

He pressed "post."

Nothing happened.

He frowned and tapped again.

Still nothing.

"Server down?" he muttered. "What a joke. Come on..."

Again he tapped. Again nothing responded. He scowled, shaking the phone, blaming Wi-Fi, blaming staff, blaming fate. Anything except what was truly happening.

Then he felt it. Something was wrong. His heart lurched violently as he suddenly noticed the lights in his room flickering, dimming, and finally vanishing entirely. The darkness was so thick it swallowed sound. His breath clouded faintly in front of him, barely visible in the suffocating black.

"What... what is happening...?"

He stood up on trembling legs, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The room wasn’t large, yet no matter how he walked, he did not reach the wall. His footsteps echoed strangely, as if the space had stretched into a cold, endless corridor.

A heavy dread pressed over him, crawling up the back of his neck. His throat tightened.

"Help... someone... someone help!"

His own voice disappeared into nothing.

Then he saw it... a shape in the distance. No, a figure. Tall. Motionless. Seated upon something that looked like a throne carved from darkness itself. The figure felt ancient and patient, as if it had been waiting long before Riccardo was born.

His breath hitched.

He forced himself forward, step by step, until the shadows peeled back just enough for him to see.

A man sat there, elbows resting lazily on the armrests. A small book lay open in his lap, and he seemed to be reading it calmly, as if this place were the most natural thing in the world.

Long, curved horns framed his head like a crown of night.

Not human. Not remotely human.

Then the man lifted his head.

Crimson eyes, deep and wine dark and glowing softly, looked straight at Riccardo.

Riccardo felt warm liquid run down his leg. He didn’t realize he had lost control until he smelled it. His breath came in choked jerks as the figure rose from the throne, unfolding with slow, composed steps.

The throne stood on a platform of three steps. Each time he descended one, the air grew heavier, as if the room itself bowed under his presence. By the time his feet touched the ground, Riccardo could barely stand.

He was taller than Riccardo. Impossibly tall, his shadow stretching behind him like a second creature. The darkness obeyed him. It rippled and curled around his boots as though greeting their master.

The man’s expression barely changed, only a faint curl of disdain touched his lips as he spoke.

"Heh."

Riccardo collapsed to his knees, his legs giving out as if the darkness itself had stolen all strength from them. His phone slipped from his trembling fingers and hit the unseen floor with a sharp crack that echoed far too loudly in the endless void.

His breath came in ragged bursts. His eyes darted wildly between Dante’s horns and the shifting shadows that clung to him like loyal creatures.

"You... you..." Riccardo stuttered, his voice cracking under terror. "How... how are you... you’re Alina’s boyfriend... how is this... what are you... are you playing costume with me?"

Dante did not answer.

Instead, a low, humorless chuckle escaped him, a sound so calm and so cold it made Riccardo’s skin tighten. Dante stepped forward with a steady grace that felt more threatening than any roar. The air around them shifted as though space itself moved aside for him.

Riccardo scrambled backward, palms slipping on the unseen floor, but before he could even turn, something wrapped around him.

A tendril of shadow. Thick. Cold. Alive.

It coiled around his chest, his arms, his legs, holding him firmly in place. Riccardo’s heart lurched painfully as he realized he couldn’t even lift a finger. Panic swallowed him whole.

"Let me go!" he screamed. "Let me— let me go!"

The shadows tightened, silencing him with pressure alone.

Dante approached slowly, his steps silent, his expression unreadable. The darkness behind him seemed to flicker and breathe, as though it responded to his mood.

Riccardo’s wide, terrified eyes finally met Dante’s wine-crimson gaze.

"You’re... you’re a monster!" Riccardo screamed, voice breaking.

Dante stopped in front of him, towering above him, his shadow spilling over Riccardo like a night sky swallowing a dying star.

A faint breath of amusement left him.

"A monster," Dante repeated slowly, almost thoughtfully.

The shadows tightened around Riccardo again, dragging him an inch closer to Dante’s boots. Riccardo whimpered.

Dante lowered his head slightly, his eyes glowing with a cold, ancient authority no human could ever imitate.

"And yet," he murmured, his voice soft but carrying the weight of storms, "you looked at a woman under my protection? Trying to harm her? Hmm."

Riccardo’s lips trembled. He shook his head violently, tears spilling.

"I didn’t— I didn’t know! I didn’t know she— she knew someone like you— someone—"

"Someone like me," Dante repeated, his voice deeper than the darkness around him.

The shadows curled around Riccardo’s throat, choking him with light pressure, a reminder of how fragile he was.

Dante lowered himself slightly, just enough for Riccardo to see his expression clearly.

"You shouldn’t have needed to know," Dante said softly. "Respect was enough. But you chose harm."

Riccardo felt his pulse hammering against the shadows holding him.

Dante straightened again, giving him one last, quiet look.

"Strike."

The single word left Dante’s lips with the softness of a sigh, yet the shadows moved as if thunder had been unleashed.