After sending off Daiwa Scarlet and Vodka—who, for some reason, had started acting strangely—Kitahara Sota returned to his dorm.
As for Vodka's odd behavior, Kitahara didn't think much of it.
After all, at the end of the day, it was just a game ID. What problem could that cause?
And lately, since he'd had some free time, he'd been playing that game again. His ranking had already climbed into the server's top ten.
If Vodka also played ranked regularly, then of course she would've noticed his ID. Being surprised wouldn't be strange at all.
And besides—compared to that little thing, he had a bigger, far more worrying problem in front of him.
"…You're not leaving?"
After seeing the two youngsters off, Kitahara turned to find Agnes Tachyon still in his dorm. Not the slightest hint that she planned to leave with them.
A bad premonition welled up inside him.
And in the next moment, that premonition proved itself right.
Tachyon didn't answer his question. After a moment of silence, she suddenly pulled out a vial from who-knows-where and held it out toward him, blinking her eyes rapidly, her intent all too obvious.
But that wasn't even the biggest issue.
Because during training camp, Kitahara had already tested more than a few of Tachyon's potions.
Granted, one of them—the observation-enhancing drug—had caused a rather disastrous accident. But the others? Generally normal, their side effects not too severe.
Even the one that had caused the accident—it had only gone that way because of him. If it had been some obsessive-compulsive trainer instead, it would've been a pure buff potion. A very good thing.
The problem was—today's vial looked nothing like those past potions.
Those had been multicolored, yes, but still fell within the bounds of "normal medicine."
This one…
This one glowed pink. And inside it floated little heart-shaped pink bubbles.
How the hell is this supposed to be a normal potion!?
Kitahara had been ready to outright refuse.
But then Tachyon spoke the name of the potion, and things shifted a little.
"This one I based on the previous pleasure-suppressant, combined with the two formulas that caused Digital's incident. As for its effect…"
She paused.
"Barring accidents, it should temporarily increase the user's feelings of goodwill—maybe even awaken love. …Barring accidents."
Up to that point, Eclipse had been zoning out as usual.
But when Tachyon finished explaining, Eclipse's gaze snapped straight to the vial. Her eyes locked onto it.
Seeing that, cold sweat broke on Kitahara's forehead.
He didn't know why Eclipse was interested in this thing, but there was no way in hell he was letting her drink something that clearly looked wrong.
Yes, Tachyon claimed it raised goodwill, even love.
But everyone knew her potions—best case, they worked. But always with "extras." Side effects.
And with those pink bubbly hearts… Kitahara had a terrible feeling the side effects were not going to be wholesome.
And if Eclipse actually drank it, then…
For the sake of his pelvis, he figured it was safer if he tested it.
So, despite every nerve in his body screaming that this was wrong, Kitahara forced himself to take the vial. Then—
He dipped his tongue lightly against it.
Facing Tachyon's odd look, he put on a very calm act.
As if I'd chug something this sketchy. Only an idiot would.
In fact, if he could, he'd rather take a dropper, pull just a single drop, and test that first.
Ten minutes later—nothing.
Not a single effect. Kitahara frowned at the vial.
Too small a dose?
This time he drank about a tenth.
Twenty minutes passed. Still nothing.
Kitahara pinched his chin, staring at the vial with growing suspicion.
Don't tell me it's just for show?
And thinking about it—given Tachyon's personality, that was entirely possible.
Make some flashy-looking fake potion, let him fuss over it half a day, only to reveal it was soda water all along. A successful prank.
Thinking that, Kitahara brought the vial to his lips and downed it to about two-thirds.
Still nothing.
Yep. Case closed. It was a drink.
He nodded, turned to Tachyon, shook the vial.
"If I'm not wrong, this is just a normal beverage, right? You used some trick to make it look like this, tried to spook me, yeah?"
At that, Tachyon, who had already looked a little doubtful, grew even more confused.
Because no—that hadn't been her plan this time.
She had gone through the trouble of making this potion specifically to use him as a test subject.
To see if it could shake his defenses. Even if only through artificially inflated, temporary love.
She had even tested it herself earlier. Only a little, but the false love swelling had been real.
So why… why did Kitahara look perfectly fine?
Was it him? Or was the potion a failure after all?
While she was reeling, Eclipse wandered closer, staring curiously at the vial in Kitahara's hand.
Tachyon's potions looked chaotic, but the truth was—stay at Tracen long enough, and you'd notice:
Every last one of them shared traits. Strong effect. Fast onset. Vanished the moment time was up. Always with side effects.
Without exception.
So after waiting so long with no change, Kitahara assumed—even if this wasn't literally juice, it couldn't be much different.
Might as well let Eclipse try.
Cautiously, he poured a drop into his palm, held it out.
Eclipse lowered her head without hesitation, licked his hand clean.
And… nothing.
But unlike Kitahara, Eclipse did sense something—the faintest increase in the swirling void inside her. Only slightly. With nowhere to settle, it had no effect.
And in that moment, three voices stirred inside her.
"This potion carries 'her' scent. No wonder it doesn't work on him."
"Do you think this was direct interference from 'her'?"
"I hope so. With her fixation on him, it wouldn't be strange. But if not…"
"Then it means our dear 'little sister' may be growing faster than expected. That's… not good."
But none of this mattered to the current scene. No one else could hear it anyway.
Tachyon least of all. She was drowning in self-doubt.
Staring at the half-full vial, she grew more and more unsettled.
This shouldn't be happening.
She had failed before, yes—but that was when she was still experimenting, clashing ingredients at random.
This time, she had carefully built on past failures. Used accumulated knowledge. Crafted it specifically to break Kitahara's walls.
She herself had felt the effect!
So why… why nothing?
Not on him, not even on Eclipse…
It wasn't just about Kitahara anymore. This was her pride as a scientist.
So she snatched the vial back, ignoring Kitahara's look of "Let's see how long you keep up this act," and sipped it herself.
Seconds later, her expression changed.
There it was—that swelling wave of false affection.
But before she could react—her body moved on its own. Wrist lifted, throat worked, and she downed the rest.
Kitahara raised a brow.
But thinking it was still just a drink, he didn't stop her. Curious to see how she'd "act it out."
And then...
Her brows furrowed, her arms hugged her stomach, her body curling as if in pain.
Kitahara jumped, rushing over, crouching by her side, phone already out to call the medic.
"Guinea Pig-kun, I…"
Her voice weakened, forcing him to lean close to catch it.
But the instant he leaned in—her voice returned to normal.
"I like you, Guinea Pig-kun."
Soft lips pressed to his.
Once again, Kitahara was pushed down on the sofa.
There's a saying: once is unfamiliar, twice is practiced. And this was the third time.
So no—he wasn't surprised anymore.
What he cared about more than the kiss was the phone that had slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor.
That thing was expensive. Don't break, please.
And unlike with others—he knew exactly why Tachyon was like this.
Her damn affection stat had spiked again.
But then—why hadn't it worked on him and Eclipse earlier?
Strange. Very strange.
Still, no matter how earnest she tried, Kitahara didn't fight back—yet Tachyon lasted only a third as long as Oguri before retreating.
She raised her head, sat astride him, palms on his chest, and with a little lick at her lips, smiled.
"Well? Guinea Pig-kun, did my feelings get through this time? Or maybe…"
Her fingers caught the hem of her coat, lifting bit by bit. Her voice turned strange.
"…Should I go further?"
Kitahara didn't flinch. Just sighed.
"…Stop."
"Yes."
Instant obedience. She froze mid-motion. The coat left hanging at the edge of his vision—revealing nothing, yet more tempting for it.
He ignored it, pointing.
"Get off me. Sit over there."
She obeyed.
Kitahara sat up, touched his lips—wet. Too wet.
Her saliva was everywhere.
He reached for something to wipe with—only for that same wet warmth to return as she leaned forward, carefully cleaning the corner of his mouth with her own lips.
When she pulled back, she blinked innocently.
"Sorry, Guinea Pig-kun. I didn't mean to scare you. The potion's affection burst was just too strong, I really felt it. And when you leaned in, I… couldn't help myself…"
"And just now?"
Kitahara's eyes narrowed, pointing at the spot she had just licked.
"That was an apology."
She answered instantly. Then, seeing his frown, leaned close again, voice coaxing.
"Guinea Pig-kun, I know I was wrong…"
"Guinea Pig-kun, you're the best…"
"Guinea Pig-kun, whatever you want as apology—even me—I'll give it to you. Don't be mad, please…"
Kitahara sighed, pushing her back down.
"I just want you to behave."
"Okay."
So she sat obediently. But her eyes never left him, brimming with waves of love.
Minutes passed.
"…Guinea Pig-kun…"
Her voice came out soft, like a kitten's mewl.
"…Now what."
"I want to do it again. Just like before. I won't tell anyone…"
"Scram."
Moments later, Tachyon was in his arms again, Kitahara sighing in despair.
"…What are you doing."
She blinked, feigning ignorance.
"Didn't you tell me to crawl over? I crawled. I'm being good."
She even wiggled her hands like a child.
Kitahara groaned.
"No—that's not what I meant. I meant—"
He felt her shifting against him. His expression grew pained.
"No, I also didn't mean crawl on top of me. Get off—"
He never finished.
Even weak and thin as she looked, Tachyon was still an Uma Musume.
Humans couldn't resist. That was common sense.
And so, once more, lips pressed against his, soft and wet.
Clumsy, earnest, tinged with a coaxing plea.
Her scent spread in his mouth, her body warm and yielding against his.
And as she shifted slightly, the brush of fabric was so smooth, so sinuous, it could almost be called alluring.
Kitahara gave up. Laid back on the sofa, eyes full of melancholy, thinking maybe he should just stop staying in his dorm altogether—otherwise, one day, his mouth really would swell.
And then—footsteps.
A knock on the door.