The rain hadn't stopped in two days.
By now, the city felt soaked to the bones—sidewalks glistening like wet mirrors, gutters overflowing, the air heavy with the scent of wet pavement and crushed leaves. Even inside the classroom, the damp chill seemed to sneak in through the cracks.
Rika barely glanced my way during third period.
She stood by the board, elegant and focused, hair tied up, those tight slacks hugging her like a second skin. But her eyes—those eyes that once burned into me across the room—were guarded today.
Last night still lingered on my skin. The way she held me. The way she whispered, "You make me feel like I'm not broken."
Now? Nothing. Just silence. Professional distance.
I didn't take it personal.
Not with Rika. She wasn't retreating because she didn't feel anything. She was retreating because she felt too much.
I smirked to myself, tapping my pen against my notebook.
Let her run.
I'd chase later.
By lunch break, I already had my next mission in mind.
Nurse Reina.
After our first encounter in the nurse's office—after I poked through her icy armor and got that rare half-smirk—I couldn't stop thinking about her.
The way her voice dipped low when she was irritated.
The way her body language screamed "stay back," while her eyes whispered, please come closer.
The system pinged the moment I stepped into the hallway:
System: Emotional Sync – Reina (3%)
Status: "Shame Wall" active.
Recommended Action: Controlled escalation through empathy + teasing.
Objective: Breach Shame Barrier. Unlock deeper emotional response.
Alright then.
Game on.
I waited until just after lunch, when the hallway thinned out, and faked a cough as I entered the nurse's office. My stomach felt fine—but my curiosity?
That shit was ravenous.
The door creaked open.
She was there—same white coat, same tightly coiled bun, same icy aura. But this time, the blouse beneath was pale gray silk. Smooth. Tight. Professional as hell, but my eyes still caught the gentle sway of her tits beneath the fabric.
She didn't look up.
"Back again?"
"Missed your voice," I said.
She exhaled sharply through her nose, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. "Symptoms this time?"
"Heart palpitations."
"From what?"
"You."
This time she did look up. One perfect brow arched, unimpressed. "Take the cot."
I obeyed. But this time, I didn't just lie down—I sprawled. Legs spread. One arm behind my head like I was at home. Like I owned the space.
Her eyes didn't drift. But the tension in her posture gave her away.
She walked over, clipboard in hand.
"I should report you for wasting school resources."
"You could," I said. "But then you wouldn't get to enjoy my charming personality."
"No part of you is charming," she muttered, crouching beside the cot and checking my pulse anyway.
Her fingers brushed my wrist—cool, clinical—but lingered for a second too long.
"You touch all your patients like this?" I asked.
"I touch them quickly, efficiently, and without bullshit."
"And yet," I whispered, "you're still touching me."
Her fingers tensed.
But she didn't move away.
System: Trigger Response Detected – Minor Shame Spike.
Counteraction Suggested: Personal story prompt. Lower emotional guard through mutual vulnerability.
My eyes softened, tone shifting.
"You ever feel like you're wearing a version of yourself every day that's not really you?" I asked. "Like you walk around in a costume—one you forgot how to take off?"
That hit something.
She froze. Straightened. Eyes met mine.
And for the first time, I saw it—real, flickering emotion behind the cold steel of her gaze.
Reina sat back slowly, resting against the cabinet, her knees bending slightly as she settled beside the cot.
"You talk like someone twice your age," she murmured.
I looked at her. Really looked.
Her bun was looser today. A few strands framed her jaw. The faintest dark circles shadowed her eyes—like sleep hadn't come easy.
"I guess I've lived twice as hard."
Silence stretched. Not awkward. Just… weighty.
She didn't look at me, just stared at her own hands.
"You're right," she said finally. "This isn't me."
That admission—quiet, vulnerable—made my chest tighten.
She didn't owe me that.
But she gave it anyway.
I sat up on the cot, slowly, gently, like I didn't want to break the moment.
"Who were you before?"
She smiled—small, bitter. "A mess."
"I like messes," I said.
"You'd hate mine."
"Try me."
She didn't answer. But her eyes lingered on me.
Then, to my surprise, she stood—and turned away.
"You should go," she said softly. "Before I forget where we are."
System Alert: Emotional Sync – Reina (9%)
New Quest Progress: 91% – "Cold Hands, Warm Walls"
Optional Sub-Objective Available: Physical Contact (Non-Sexual)
I stood, closing the distance between us slowly.
She didn't turn around.
But I reached out—just lightly—and brushed her shoulder with my fingertips.
"You're allowed to want things, Reina," I said. "Even messy things."
Still nothing.
But she didn't pull away either.
As I left, I didn't feel cocky. Didn't feel victorious.
I felt… something else.
That strange warmth again. The one that came after intimacy that wasn't about skin.
The kind that crept up from shared silence and buried pain.
Reina wasn't melting yet.
But I could feel the ice cracking.
And this time?
I wasn't just here to fuck her....well just yet
I was here to reach her.
[To Be Continued…]