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I barely got any sleep.
Ayaka's kiss still lingered on my lips. Her warmth, her weight straddling me on the bed, the way she left just when it felt like we'd crossed the edge—I replayed it all a hundred times in my head. That, and the quiet pulsing under my skin from the headmistress's magic. I wasn't sure what she'd done to me in that office, but it wasn't fading.
Still, I had a class to attend.
The academy bell rang sometime after sunrise, a low, humming chime that vibrated through the air like a spellcast sigh. My uniform had been delivered—dark, slim, high-collared, tailored to fit, of course. The crest of the academy shimmered faintly on the shoulder, like living ink. I slipped it on and stepped out of my room into the hallway, where at least three passing students froze mid-step to eye me like prey they weren't allowed to eat.
Because of the mark. My sister's magic.
Even now, I felt its pulse like a shield wrapped around me—one that burned anyone who got too close.
But apparently, "too close" had very loose boundaries at this academy.
By the time I reached my assigned class—Magical Theory and Enhancement 101—the hallway outside the door was already filled with murmurs and glances.
"That's him... the last one."
"Did you hear? He got a private room."
"Think the Headmistress already—?"
I didn't wait around for the rest. I stepped inside.
The room looked like a lecture hall from the outside—long crescent rows of polished obsidian desks, a dais up front with shimmering rune boards, glowing quills, and a professor who looked far too gorgeous for anyone to take seriously. Her glasses slid down her nose with every word, and her silk blouse was unbuttoned just enough to make it seem intentional.
But none of that was what got my attention.
Every seat was full.
Packed, in fact—shoulders touching, thighs pressed. All girls, of course. Not one empty chair in sight.
I hesitated at the doorway, debating whether I should just stand.
That's when I heard the purr.
"You can sit with me~"
I turned. A silver-haired student, probably a year older, waved at me from the second row. Her top was barely holding on to her ample chest, and her skirt had ridden so far up it barely counted as part of her uniform anymore.
The seat beside her was taken—but she patted her lap.
"I don't mind sharing," she said, voice sultry. "Come on… I'll even take notes for you."
I blinked. "There's not enough room."
She giggled. "Sure there is. I've got enough lap for both of us."
Before I could argue, the professor looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Take a seat, Mr. Jin. We can't delay the lecture."
I exhaled and made my way over.
The girl scooted her chair back slightly, then stood and tugged me gently by the hand toward the seat. When I reached her, she leaned in close and whispered, "Let me sit on your lap. That way we both fit."
I hesitated. "Wait—what?"
But she was already lowering herself onto me.
Soft curves molded to my thighs, her back against my chest as she settled in, adjusting herself with slow, deliberate movements. Her name, I would later learn, was Lira.
But right now, all I knew was that she was warm, smelled like cinnamon and flowers, and was absolutely not here to learn.
She leaned back slightly, whispering, "You're surprisingly comfortable."
Then she took my hands and placed them around her waist. Just like that.
"I'll take care of the notes. You just sit still." She winked. "Unless you want to fail your first class…"
My fingers twitched against her waist, and I nearly jerked back, but she didn't let me go. In fact, she did the opposite—grinding ever so subtly on my lap as the professor began lecturing.
Magical theory. Enchantments. Runic optimization.
I tried, I tried—to focus.
But Lira kept shifting. Wiggling. Swaying her hips as if the rhythm of her movements matched the flow of the lecture. My heart pounded. My mind was a mess. Every few seconds, she would look back and smirk like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
And worse, she wasn't the only one.
I caught other students turning around in their seats, gazing at us with jealousy or interest—or both. One even licked her lips before forcing herself to face forward again.
Was this… normal here?
My answer came when the professor clapped her hands and said, "Time for power assessments."
Everyone straightened.
"New students must be ranked before we determine your curriculum level," she said. "There are five levels: Ember, Spark, Flame, Blaze, and Inferno. You will each place your palm on the assessment crystal and channel your magic. It will read your output, affinity, and control."
Students lined up quickly, one after the other.
Most were ranked Spark or Flame.
A few, like a horned girl in the back row who looked at me like she wanted to bite me, got Blaze.
Then it was my turn.
I stepped forward and placed my hand on the crystal. It was cold—icy cold—and I felt it immediately pulling at me, as if testing how deep my magic went.
"Relax," the professor said softly. "Don't force it. Let it draw from you."
I did.
And something surged.
A ripple, deep and strange, pulsed up through the crystal. It flared with blue and violet, and then with a strange red hue—only to collapse into a dull golden glow.
The professor's eyes narrowed.
"Mid-level," she murmured. "Stable… yet unstable."
She wrote something on her scroll.
"Rank: Flame. But... with undefined potential. Curious."
I returned to my seat—my lap, technically—as Lira tugged me back into place and whispered, "Flame? Impressive… but I bet there's more in you. Just waiting to come out."
She wriggled again, more deliberate this time.
I barely kept my voice down. "Are you… trying to get me expelled?"
She leaned back into my ear. "I'm trying to see how long you can hold out."
The bell rang soon after, and Lira sighed like she was genuinely disappointed the class had ended.
She stood, smoothing her skirt, then winked as she adjusted my collar.
"See you next class, flame boy."
Then she was gone—leaving me hot, breathless, and wondering how the hell I was supposed to survive this academy.
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