Bella's assigned dorm was Lyman Hall, located on the west side of campus. The four-story building housed 112 suites, each with two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen. At Stanford—a private university—even the name of a building usually meant it had been donated by some wealthy alumnus.
There were rumors that Lyman Hall had originally been planned as graduate housing, given how well-equipped and comfortable it was. Bella was well aware she'd lucked out by getting a spot here early. When others asked, she claimed it was pure good fortune—and absolutely refused to admit she'd used a Charm spell.
An oak tree nearly eighteen meters tall stood in front of the building. Oaks were a symbol of Stanford; many important buildings had one planted out front. The taller the tree, the longer the building's history.
With 112 suites, the hall could accommodate 224 students. By Stanford standards, it wasn't particularly large, but its facilities were impressively complete.
Laundry room, lounge, game room, piano room, mailroom, computer lab, storage rooms, bicycle garage, outdoor barbecue area—it covered nearly every aspect of student life.
The environment was quiet and comfortable. The rooms were fully furnished, privacy was guaranteed, and as long as you didn't break the law or violate school rules, no one bothered you.
Bella's roommate had already checked in a few days earlier and left a sticky note on the west bedroom door, though she wasn't around—apparently out somewhere.
Bella didn't care about room orientation. She claimed the east bedroom, unpacked her belongings, then grabbed her bag and headed out to explore campus.
Classes hadn't started yet, so she went straight to her real destination: the library.
Stanford had twenty libraries, holding more than eight million books, including over twenty-six thousand rare volumes.
Whatever their origins, knowledge itself was innocent. Bella's attention was drawn to ancient texts—many of them contained fragmented records of old magical systems.
She could clearly feel that the world's overall magical level was steadily declining. Ancient mages could move mountains and fill seas, wielding power close to that of gods. By the early modern era, witches were being hunted into hiding. In the modern age, aside from the Ancient One and Doctor Strange—who borrowed power from higher-dimensional beings—most mages were weak to the point of embarrassment.
The environment itself had changed.
Fortunately, that wasn't Bella's problem.
For the next two days, she lived in the library, reading nonstop, refining her own psionic system bit by bit using scattered knowledge from countless books.
After hanging up with Charlie—
"Is your allowance enough? Remember to take care of your health in San Francisco..."
—Bella suddenly realized something important.
Letting her money sit in the bank was a waste. She needed to invest.
She left the library immediately and went looking for business opportunities.
Stanford sat in the southern part of the San Francisco Bay Area, officially in Santa Clara County. But everyone knew its real name:
Silicon Valley.
This place was legendary. With a population of over 1.7 million, it was the most populous county in the Bay Area and home to countless tech giants. Some Bella recognized—Apple, HP, Yahoo, Google. Others she didn't, but they were just as influential within the industry.
Her pickup truck had been a novelty back in Forks. Here, it barely registered. Luxury sports cars passed by constantly. Even after the dot-com bubble burst, Silicon Valley was still drowning in money.
The truck's plates had already been switched from Washington to California. Bella drove slowly through the area, scanning for opportunities.
She didn't know much about business. She knew Apple and Google—but so what?
Apple hadn't even released its game-changing smartphone yet, and she wasn't sure whether that future would even happen in this timeline.
And even if Apple were destined to rise, a company of that scale wouldn't care about her pocket change.
She had received $300,000 in compensation from the plane crash. After various expenses, over $30,000 was already gone. Setting aside emergency funds, she could mobilize maybe $200,000 at most.
The average annual salary in Silicon Valley was already around $100,000. Rich people were everywhere.
Walking into Apple's headquarters with $200,000 and asking to invest would just get her escorted out by security.
Stocks weren't any better. Tech stocks were crashing daily. Every chart looked like a cliff dive. Bella had a strong feeling that the moment she bought in, she'd be stuck holding the bag.
Why had Natasha's mom divorced her ex-husband? Stocks. That's why.
After a full loop around Silicon Valley, Bella came up empty-handed. Or rather, the opportunities existed—but she wasn't qualified to play in those leagues.
Since investing wasn't viable, she decided to start her own business.
She didn't understand high-tech. What she did understand were things like Kukulkan, Amaterasu, Shiva, and Moses.
After some research and combining it with her own strengths, Bella made a decision:
She would open a shop selling magical items.
Whether the items actually worked was secondary. What mattered was selling peace of mind.
Opening a shop like that in Silicon Valley felt almost offensive. Intel headquarters on one side, Sequoia Capital on the other, and in between—Bella's Magical Supplies? Selling holy water between chip designers? She was half-afraid someone would fire an RPG at her just for insulting the local tech ecosystem.
Silicon Valley clearly wasn't the right place.
Driving less than an hour north on Highway 280, she entered downtown San Francisco.
She checked out the Golden Gate Bridge she'd seen in countless movies, then wandered through Fisherman's Wharf—but those tourist-heavy areas weren't suitable for selling "feudal superstition."
Along the way, she made calls, asking acquaintances whether they knew anyone in San Francisco or had leads on commercial properties.
Surprisingly, she actually got one.
"An old buddy of mine is planning to retire to Europe," Chris Redfield—whom she'd met during the Invisible Man incident—told her. "You could try talking to him."
Bella was ecstatic.
Following the address Chris gave her, and with his introduction plus the owner's eagerness to sell, Bella completed a quick negotiation and bought a two-story commercial shop in the Fillmore District for $85,000.
Decorating this kind of shop didn't require refinement—the more mysterious, the better.
Bella personally took charge, carrying a bucket of paint herself. Right at the entrance, she drew a crooked hexagram.
It looked crude—like a child's doodle.
Perfect.
Runes, Maori facial markings, voodoo symbols, obscure sigils—anything she'd ever seen went up on the walls, layered without logic or explanation.
If someone walked in and didn't feel uneasy, she'd consider the décor a failure.