"Ah...."
Think that's a sexy moan?
Nope—just a loser tumbling off the bed with a pathetic yelp.
Kuroha bolted upright like he'd escaped a nightmare from hell, only to overdo it and crash butt-first onto the floor.
Lately, he'd been having the same dream over and over: Yuma killing him.
But he was still alive and kicking. Was it really just a dream? It felt so real...
"Kuroha, get up or you'll be late!"
His mom's voice urged from outside the door.
"Yeah... got it, coming right now..."
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Kuroha dragged himself up, washed up, scarfed breakfast, and headed out.
Sunshine used to be his favorite, but lately, that glaring morning light left him feeling limp and weak. The heat prickling his skin stung like hell.
At night, though, he felt supercharged—like some hidden power surged inside him, making him wired and euphoric.
One night, he even snuck out at midnight. His body felt light as air, like the dark was his true domain.
On a whim, he sprinted a hundred meters. His speed crushed the track team easy—he couldn't believe it himself.
But come daytime, that power vanished. Kuroha found it bizarre.
It all started with that dream... the one where Yuma killed him.
Kuoh Academy Private School.
That's where Kuroha went to high school.
It used to be an all-girls school a few years back, and even after going co-ed, girls still outnumbered guys.
Lower grades had more boys, but overall, girls dominated—giving them overwhelming sway. Even the student council president was a girl.
Despite the vibe, Kuroha chose this school anyway. Why? Simple: tons of girls.
For that noble goal, he aced the notoriously tough entrance exam, standing out among hordes of applicants.
Fueled by sheer horniness, huh?
He drooled imagining daily girl surroundings, PE classes full of long, pale legs.
Reality? Brutal.
No harem catfights over him.
His only company: two like-minded (or equally pervy) buddies.
Matsuda, the sunny-looking guy with a filthy mouth.
And Motohama, the glasses creep who could "scan" girls' measurements at a glance.
At school, they glued themselves to Kuroha as usual.
"Hey, Kuroha, what's with the zombie vibe lately? Did I show you too much of my stash?"
Matsuda elbowed him with a sleazy grin.
Kuroha opened his mouth to say he felt drained, body going limp—even a pair of juicy thighs in front of him might not spark interest anymore.
Motohama piped up like he'd remembered something.
"You still lost in fantasy land? That big an impact? She was... Yuma, right?"
"You guys really don't remember Yuma?"
Kuroha propped his head on one hand, slumping wearily at them.
Their response? Pitying looks.
"Dude, maybe see a doc about your head? We never heard of her. This is worrying us."
Matsuda got unusually serious.
"Yeah, ask all you want—we never saw you introduce some girl named Yuma."
Motohama nodded firmly.
Was it all a dream?
But Kuroha vividly recalled introducing her to his bros—their jealous murder stares couldn't be faked.
Now, everything was gone. Yuma erased from their memories, his contacts, everywhere. Every trace of her—poof.
Only lingering in his head.
It drove him nuts.
All a fantasy?
Then who went on dates, kissed, and went all the way with him?
Puberty fever dream?
But that touch, that tight embrace, those bouncy, snow-white...
Kuroha stared at his hand, still feeling phantom warmth.
Lost in thought for a moment, his gaze sharpened out the window.
A vivid splash of red caught his eye.
A girl just arriving at school—he couldn't look away.
Crimson hair flowing long, delicate features with a cool edge, slim yet curvaceous figure, endless legs.
Everything combined into otherworldly beauty.
She was the idol of every soul at Kuoh Academy.
Rumor had it she was from Northern Europe, in Japan for her dad's job.
Rias Gremory.
Third-year student, Kuroha's senpai.
Untouchable, to be admired from afar.
Every day, she basked in stares—her red hair swaying in the wind against porcelain skin, dazzling under the sun.
Kuroha always zoned out watching her.
But lately? Different.
He still got lost in her allure, but deep down, some corner of his heart feared her—this impossibly beautiful girl.
And that feeling started the same day Yuma vanished.
Then, he felt piercing blue eyes on him.
Those clear azure orbs met his, and his heart was hers in an instant.
Maybe a trick of the light, but her sky-blue eyes narrowed into a lovely curve, like she was smiling right at him.
Her expression? Intriguingly ambiguous.
Is she smiling at me?
No way?
They'd never crossed paths.
Right...?
Unbidden, the dream flashed back—that final moment, eyes closing on swaying crimson hair and a voice both tender and cruel.
For no reason, their figures began overlapping in his mind...