"Don't worry, child. A kind warning isn't a crime. Even if you're wrong, it doesn't matter. We don't curse others with ill intent, but we won't let kind people be punished for it either," said the fat old man with white hair and a white beard, sitting next to Bella, trying to comfort her.
The old man handed her a business card.
John Grey, professor of history at Bard College, New York.
Bella didn't have a business card, so she just introduced herself, "Isabella Swan. You can call me Bella, Professor."
"Nice to meet you, Bella. You look very uneasy. Are you worried the government will blame you? I do know a few people. You don't need to be scared."
Bella was indeed full of guilt at the moment. After the impulse to save people faded, what followed was pure fear. She knew better than anyone what she was about to face—something beauty, money, or status couldn't protect her from.
"You believe the nonsense I said?" she asked cautiously.
Most passengers were half-convinced, more like they'd rather believe than not. Few truly believed and supported her.
The old man's gaze drifted into the distance, a trace of loneliness in his expression.
"You're in high school, right? Ever studied American history?"
America has history? Bella inwardly scoffed at that so-called history. The only things she remembered were stuff like "Cherry Blossom Axe" Washington and Lincoln the Vampire Hunter.
She hadn't absorbed much memory from the body's original owner. It had only been three days since she transmigrated. She hadn't had time to read anything.
She didn't know what American history classes taught here, so she answered vaguely, "I know a bit."
"Our history carries original sin. This land doesn't belong to us. The sky itself hates us. In 1821, in Idaho, every resident and gold prospector in a small town died. No wounds. No signs. All five hundred of them, gone in an instant. There are many cases like that. The government blamed Indian retaliation. I think it was nature getting revenge."
Bella thought this old man was surprisingly close to the truth. In the movies, no one could really say what Death was.
"I think—"
Before she could finish, a huge fireball exploded in the sky in the distance, eye-catching and terrifying.
Two seconds later, the shockwave from the explosion slammed into the terminal's glass with a loud boom. A few passengers near the window were thrown back. Newspapers, cups, coats, and hats flew everywhere.
The rain outside was blown in by the wind, soaking the polished floor in mud. Bella even thought she smelled blood in the air—just a faint trace.
The temperature inside dropped a few degrees instantly, but no one had time to think about the floor or the glass. Everyone, including Bella, stood frozen, staring outside as the fireball burned in the sky and fell to the ground.
Several men abandoned all dignity, clutching their heads in disbelief. Women hugged their kids tightly, trying to give them courage, but they were just as scared themselves.
"Oh my God!"
"Mom! I'm scared!"
"Don't be afraid, baby. Mommy's here! Mommy's right here!"
The survivors in the terminal were in complete panic.
Some kissed their crosses, some sat frozen in shock, while couples hugged each other, grateful they had survived.
The female teacher who had been apologizing to the airport manager, hoping she and her students could still board, turned pale. She felt lucky—but mostly, she felt regret. If she could do it over, she would've stopped everyone.
"Didn't you say the plane was fine?! This is murder! Do you understand?! MURDER! You pig! You're all murderers!" the thin teacher shouted, grabbing the airport supervisor by the tie. Earlier, this guy swore up and down that the plane had no issues. And now?
Does this look fine? How was she supposed to face the families of those dead students?
The supervisor was stunned. It was the captain who said everything was fine, swore on his life. And now the captain was probably dead.
You can't sue a dead man, but he, the one still breathing, was definitely screwed.
"I saw it! I saw everything! The whole scene was exactly like in my vision—the left engine caught fire, the flames burst into the cabin from the explosion. I saw you, you, and you. You were all dead! All of you!" shouted the thin male student.
He kept repeating what he foresaw. Bella had to admit, his ability seemed pretty impressive, like he'd gone through the whole thing and then rewound just his personal timeline. The way he described it, with so much detail, it felt real—very different from Bella's own death sense.
Hers was more like a kind of spiritual warning. His felt more like a temporary cheat code.
Since he was taking the spotlight, she had no plans to jump out and make herself a target.
Over a hundred people had died. Bella could still remember some of their faces—like the student who mocked her fashion, the executive who called her crazy. All gone now.
At 9:25 a.m., the plane took off, then exploded. Even though the airport sent out rescue teams in the heavy rain, everyone was pessimistic. In that situation, survival was nearly impossible.
Global Airlines was already struggling from poor management. Now this Flight 180 disaster was a fatal blow. Whether it was engine failure or fuel explosion, it didn't matter—this airline, founded in 1925, was going down.
Police, firefighters, FBI, and a swarm of reporters flooded the scene, throwing every kind of question at the survivors.
From religion to human rights, from politics to favorite sports teams.
Among them, Bella, the thin boy Alex, the black-haired young man Sam, and the brown-haired female student Claire were the main focus.
A middle-aged man in a long coat showed them his ID. He was a C1-level field supervisor for the FBI's Phoenix office. His name—maybe fake—was Henry.
The least suspicious one, the brown-haired girl Claire Redfield, was questioned first.
"Miss Redfield, I didn't see any interaction between you and Miss Swan before. Why did you support her?"
"It was a strong feeling. A really bad one. If I got on the plane, I'd die. That's it."
"A feeling? That's all? Mind if I record that exactly as you said it?"
"Go ahead."