The classroom buzzed with the usual chaos of Class D, the air thick with the scent of chalk and the swish of too-short skirts.
Lor slouched at his desk, his black hair falling over his hazel eyes, ignoring the familiar sneers from his female classmates.
Miss Silvia burst in, her auburn hair slipping from its bun, glasses askew, her white jacket and pencil skirt hugging her curves.
"Another math test!" she announced loudly, clapping her hands and nearly dropping her stack of papers. "Surprise! Let's see if you've improved from yesterday."
Lor caught Eva's eye across the room. Her dark blue hair with pink streaks was tied with her blue bow, her tight uniform accentuating her full chest and curvy hips.
She gave him a quick, confident nod, her green eyes bright with anticipation.
Their "study sessions" were paying off, and Lor's grin widened as he took his paper, deliberately scribbling wrong answers. 24 + 18? He wrote 241, ensuring another low score to keep his cover.
Eva, meanwhile, gripped her pencil, her posture steady, her bow barely quivering as she worked through the problems, picturing Lor's coin-counting lessons.
Her lips curved into a small smile as she solved a sum, her confidence a stark contrast to her past despair.
By the end of the day, Miss Silvia returned with the graded papers, her glasses slipping as she handed them out.
"Eva, excellent work!" she said, pausing at her desk.
"Ten out of a hundred! Top three in the class!" Eva's face lit up, her bow bouncing as she clutched the paper. Lor glanced at his own: 2/100. Perfect.
No one would suspect a thing.
After class, Eva bounded over, her skirt swishing, a fancy muffin wrapped in gold foil in her hands.
"Lor!" she said, her voice a mix of pride and gratitude. "I got ten! Now I am in the Top three!" She leaned close, her cleavage peeking from her blouse, and whispered, "Thanks to you... and your... Light (whispers)." She handed him the muffin, her cheeks pink. "I want more guidance. I want to keep getting better at math."
Lor took a bite of the muffin, the sweet, buttery flavor exploding on his tongue.
"Anytime, Eva," he said, his eyes scanning the room, lingering on the other girls.
A redhead adjusting her skirt, a green-haired girl stretching to show off her curves—plenty of potential for his "Guiding Light" ruse.
Should he stick with Eva's eager trust or cast a wider net?
The thought made his grin widen as he chewed.
As the class emptied, Lor reached into his pocket for his quill and felt something odd—a folded scrap of paper.
He hadn't noticed anyone slip it there.
Unfolding it, he read the scrawled words: "I know you helped Eva."
No signature, no demands, just a statement.
His pulse quickened, but his face stayed calm.
He'd felt eyes on him earlier, a fleeting glance from the corner of his vision.
Someone had been watching, and his peripheral vision was sharp enough to catch it.
He didn't turn to look.
Instead, he grabbed his quill, scribbled "Ok" on the paper, and tossed it casually over his shoulder, letting it flutter to the floor. If the culprit was still watching, they'd get the message.
During the afternoon sword practice period, Lor headed to the armory to grab his training blade.
The academy's courtyard was alive with students sparring, the clang of metal and flashes of weak magic filling the air.
Lor kept his head down, his average build blending into the crowd, his low scores ensuring no one expected much from him.
But as he passed a shadowed corner near the old storage shed, a sudden rustle made him tense.
Before he could react, a sack was yanked over his head, the rough fabric scratching his face.
Hands shoved him forward, and he stumbled, his heart racing but his mind sharp.
He knew who it was—her stare had been unmistakable when he read the note, her eyes boring into him from across the classroom.
The world spun, then went still.
When the sack was pulled off, Lor blinked in the dim light of an abandoned classroom, its broken windows letting in slivers of gray daylight.
Dust motes floated in the air, the desks long gone, the floorboards creaking underfoot.
He widened his eyes, feigning fear, his voice trembling.
"W-Who's there?"
A flicker of fire sparked to life, illuminating a figure in the shadows.
She stepped forward, the small flame dancing in her palm, casting light on her light brown hair, styled in a short, wavy bob that framed her face.
Her hazel eyes glinted with a mix of curiosity and menace, her tight shirt clinging to her busty chest, the fabric stretched taut over her curves.
Her tight pants hugged her hips and thighs, accentuating every line of her figure, making Lor's breath catch despite the situation. She was stunning, dangerous, and all too familiar.
"Olivia!" Lor exclaimed, his voice a mix of surprise and feigning panic.