Lor slumped onto the wooden floor, his body sagging like a puppet with its strings cut, the lantern’s flickering glow casting jagged shadows across his rumpled room.
One hand went to his temple, fingers massaging as if warding off a migraine, his loose shirt clinging to his damp chest, the lavender scent of his bath lingering in the air.
His breath came ragged, a soft chuckle escaping.
"Whew," he exhaled, voice weak, sheepish, human again—no longer the thunderous, divine force of the Guiding Light. "That was... intense."
Kiara stared, still crouched on the floor, her sharp eyes wide with disbelief as the glow in Lor’s hazel eyes faded, his posture folding back into the shy, forgettable loser from Class D.
It was like watching a mask snap back onto his face, the vast sage replaced by the awkward boy she’d mocked.
Her blouse clung to her full breasts, nipples faintly pressing through, her skirt riding high, black lace peeking as her plush thighs trembled, her dark bangs framing a face torn between fury, confusion, and a simmering heat she couldn’t name.
"It’s my mistake," Lor said, forcing a wry smile, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I should’ve warned you. The Light’s a little... hotheaded. Honestly, I’ve never seen him that pissed before." His voice was soft, almost apologetic, but a glint of mischief flickered in his hazel eyes, betraying the lie beneath his sheepish act.
"Shut up," Kiara snapped, her voice sharp but lacking its usual fire, her gaze lingering—conflicted, curious, a spark of something new flickering in her chest.
She turned her head, chewing her lip, her breasts heaving with each breath, blouse straining, thighs shifting as she fought the heat pooling low in her belly.
The memory of Lor’s aura—overwhelming, oppressive—still tingled on her skin, his blowjob demand echoing in her mind, stirring a dark, forbidden thrill.
Lor looked down, fiddling with the coin on the floor, his fingers trembling slightly, betraying the tension beneath his facade.
"It’s fine, you can go, Kiara," he said softly, his voice gentle, almost sincere. "I mean, a blowjob? Even I think that’s weird. I’ve always wanted my first time to be with someone I’m, y’know... actually in a relationship with." He scratched his head, his grin awkward, boyish.
"It’d be weird with you." The lie slipped out smoothly, his hazel eyes flicking to her thighs, the black lace teasing, his cock twitching faintly in his pants despite his words.
Kiara scoffed, her sharp face twisting with disdain.
"Yeah, there’s no fucking way I’m doing that. Especially with a loser like you." Her voice dripped with venom, but her cheeks flushed—not just from rage, but from something deeper, a flicker of desire she refused to acknowledge.
She pushed to her feet, adjusting her skirt sharply, the fabric sliding higher, revealing more of her toned legs, her breasts bouncing slightly as she stood.
Her boots thudded against the wood, each step a storm of defiance as she stormed toward the door, her body radiating heat, her dark bangs swaying, lips parted and wet in the lantern’s glow.
Lor’s gaze followed her.
He fought the urge to call her back, to let his aura flare again, to pull her into a ritual that would leave them both breathless.
But he stayed silent, his wry smile masking the heat in his chest.
As Kiara reached the stairs, Mira appeared, arms crossed, brow lifted, her nightdress swaying in the draft.
"Finished already?" she asked, blinking, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Is it because I told you to keep it quiet?"
Kiara shot her a death glare, her sharp eyes blazing, her breasts heaving as she stormed past without a word, her boots pounding down the steps.
The front door yanked open with a creak, the cool night air swallowing her as she vanished into the darkness.
Lor lay sprawled across his unmade bed, the lantern’s soft glow casting a warm haze over the room, the lingering lavender scent of his bath mixing with the faint trace of Kiara’s perfume.
A soft knock sounded at the door, followed by the creak of wood.
Mira stepped inside, arms crossed over her robe, her warm smile shadowed by concern, her eyes searching his face.
"What happened with Kiara?" she asked, voice gentle but pointed, stepping closer. "She looked ready to torch the neighborhood."
Lor didn’t meet her gaze, his hazel eyes fixed on the ceiling, his loose shirt rumpled against his chest.
"I told her the truth," he said, voice flat, tinged with a bitter edge. "She didn’t like it. Got pissed."
"What did you tell her Lor?" Mira asked.
"I told her that her vocal were bad and that her singing would give me nightmares forever." He forced a weak chuckle, fingers brushing the coin absently.
Mira sighed, sitting beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.
She looked at him for a long moment, brushing a strand of black hair from his forehead, her touch warm and grounding.
"Lor..." she said, tone softening, "if you keep acting like this, no girl will ever fall for you. And I’ll never have a daughter-in-law to spoil."
He groaned, grabbing a pillow to hide his face, his voice muffled. "That’s fine. Love’s a scam anyway."
She smacked his arm gently, her laugh soft but firm.
"Don’t be dramatic. Girls aren’t magical creatures who only respond to sarcasm and insults. They need gentleness, care—emotion, warmth. You know what I mean?"
He peeked out from under the pillow, hazel eyes meeting hers. "She almost punched me, Mom. Girls are dangerous, and wild."
"Because you provoked her," Mira shot back, then exhaled, her smile tender. "I’m serious, Lor. A woman’s heart isn’t a toy. Even if they seem strong or loud or mean, underneath, they just want to feel safe. Seen. Got it?"
He stared up at her, voice low. "You’re not wrong," he mumbled, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. "I guess... I suck at that part."