episode_0277

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At 3:30 AM.

Thirty minutes spent watching the video from start to finish, followed by another half hour beyond that.

The video sent by Yozora was the first and last recording of its kind.

By the sixth or seventh replay of the final scene, there had admittedly been some idle chatter—things like “Is this really it?” or “You doing more in the bathroom?”—but…

…Well. Even secretly filming something like that would’ve been impossible anyway. No way she could’ve pieced together anything more to send.

Honestly, even if she could’ve, knowing Yozora’s personality, this felt more natural.

She was probably resisting the urge to wonder what I was doing right about now.

Or perhaps—

Maybe she was too busy fucking him to give it any thought at all.

Tossing restlessly under the covers, I finally gave up and got up, putting down my overheated phone before heading to the kitchen.

I instinctively winced as I stepped on the ankle I’d twisted hours earlier, then—belatedly recalling Seo Woojin—took one step, then another.

Drenched in cold sweat, I fluttered the damp front of my sleep shirt before opening the fridge, pouring myself a glass of ice-cold water, and gulping it down.

…So that’s what it was—I couldn’t help it because that bastard had gotten me worked up.

It wasn’t that the blanket was too hot or that I was sweating. No, it was just that something inside me had broken.

Justifying the last thirty minutes as something inevitable.

But even so.

I couldn’t even fool myself.

Gulp.

Gulp.

“Haah…”

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d end up doing that to a video of Yozora.

And not just as something quick, either—was it really normal for it to take a full hour?

An entire hour spent on that meaningless, fruitless act, never even reaching climax?

Shame. Or perhaps self-loathing.

With a sigh, I exhaled the thick, suffocating emotions that surged in belatedly, genuinely wondering how I’d been sucked into playing with myself for thirty whole minutes.

Because seeing Yozora’s body turned me on?

Even if the sky collapsed, that couldn’t be the reason.

It wasn’t because of Seo Woojin either.

Sure, I’d admit his body was decently toned—well-maintained, even—but I’d seen plenty of better physiques in my nearly three years at the academy.

But even so, to just chalk it all up to “being in heat” and blame everything on Seo Woojin… My condition wasn’t even that wrecked right now.

Since it had only been around two hours since I’d last touched him, I still felt pretty stable.

So why had I spent an hour pressing down on my clit and around it while watching that video?

…I’m not some kind of pervert.

“…So annoying.”

After brushing loose strands of sweat-dampened hair behind my ears, I placed the empty glass in the sink and glanced down at the oversized, worn-out T-shirt I slept in.

Just how much had I touched myself? The fabric stretched taut over my chest was crumpled at the edges where my fingers had gripped it.

And despite feeling like I hadn’t even touched my chest directly that much—most of it had just been grinding my palms over the shirt.

All I had to show for it was the shame of chewing on my lower lip—

And the scene of Yozora and Seo Woojin sharing a disgustingly sweet kiss burned into my mind.

After sighing irritably a few more times because of that stupid moment, I crawled back under the now-toasty blanket.

“…”

Come to think of it, out of all the confusing things, this was the most confusing.

Irritation.

What part of that video even warranted irritation?

…If I were in a relationship with Seo Woojin, I could at least understand.

Because that would mean Yozora had practically filmed herself cheating and sent it to me.

But that isn’t our relationship at all.

We’re just—

Partners who use each other for relief when needed.

So then why did watching Yozora happily sleeping with Seo Woojin piss me off so much?

“…”

…Was I jealous?

“…Ugh…”

No matter how many other words I tried to think of, jealousy was the only one that fit.

Having ignored it until now, I finally buried myself completely under the covers and let out a muffled groan.

That uncomfortable feeling watching Yozora and Seo Woojin playfully teasing each other.

How I pretended to be bored with the TV after they went into the bathroom together, insisting they wash their hands afterward.

How I imagined myself in Yozora’s place—moaning under that bastard—

…Jealousy explained it all.

The thought “I’ve never had sex like that” crossed my mind too.

And wondering—could it really feel that good? Enough to curl and uncurl your toes?

But admitting that was the worst part.

“…”

Sexual desire.

Love-hate.

Possessiveness.

Whatever.

It meant I didn’t see him as just some disposable stress-relief tool.

That somewhere deep down, buried under layers of denial—I held feelings for him.

—

277

Since morning, it had been pouring rain—a perfect day to be drowsy.

Not that there was much choice in the matter.

Last night, I wore myself out indulging Yozora, and by the time I got home, it was already 4 AM before I could sleep.

But I didn’t regret it.

I managed to shake off some of Seol Dabin’s suspicions… and Baek Seoyeon? Well, even if it takes time, she hasn’t stepped wrong again, right?

So spending today exhausted felt like a cheap price to pay in comparison.

“…Ah. There’s the club.”

“Yep! Do you have any clubs you’re interested in, Teach? You’re free to look around!”

“Not really, no.”

“The popular ones are the travel club, then there’s band, otaku stuff… wait, no—uh, subculture stuff too…”

The sound of rain hitting the ground and the occasional thunder worked like white noise, making it easy to drift off even sitting upright on the nurse’s office chair.

As much as I wanted to lay my head down and nap, tomorrow was the academy’s mid-terms.

Between treatments and chatting with students, I hadn’t even had time to close my eyes, let alone rest before lunch.

“Next patient, what brings you in tod—… Ah.”

“…”

It took three whole seconds to realize the next person wasn’t “Girl #1” but Baek Seoyeon.

While everyone else wore gym clothes, she was neatly dressed in her academy uniform.

She always gave off this vibe, but today, she looked especially exhausted.

Took me a second to notice…

“Long time no see. Feeling alright?”

“…”

…But was this really the right time to show up, with this many people around?

It didn’t seem urgent—her expression and posture seemed fine.

Though I couldn’t exactly ask outright, “Come cause you couldn’t sleep with Yozora last night?” So I kept my voice low, pretending like a normal check-up.

Her reply?

“Paper cut. On my finger.”

“Which one?”

“Right index…”

She got cut.

Even squinting, I couldn’t see anything.

After spitting out that blatant lie, she slid her right hand across the desk toward me.

…I almost wondered if she was hiding a note, but no.

I thought she was pulling the “paper cut” excuse as an opening.

“Let me take a quick look.”

Playing along, I gently took her wrist.

She stiffened at first but soon relaxed, as if remembering that at this point, my touch shouldn’t faze her.

Staring at her flawless finger, I suppressed a smile.

Like I thought—nothing there.

“You came in for a cut last time too. Guess you handle a lot of paper as student council president?”

“…Guess so. Yeah.”

“Moisturizer might help. Dry skin tears easier—though I only heard that secondhand.”

“…I’ll keep it in mind.”

Meaningless questions. Meaningless advice.

Replies as hollow as the excuse.

Around us, students chatted quietly—not library-whispers, but hushed enough for discretion.

At first, everyone stayed completely silent around me, but lately, they’d grown comfortable enough for casual conversations.

…Which meant—

“…Hey.”

“Hm?”

Baek Seoyeon could—

Not spill anything too secret, but enough to imply something meaningful.

“I wanted… some counseling.”

“Counseling? From me?”

“…Yeah.”

Counseling.

Hearing that word again, I nearly laughed—Yi Hayun had used the exact same excuse yesterday with Seol Dabin.

Funny. If she just wanted alone time with me, there were plenty of other excuses—things like “I need healing guidance” or “I have training pains—can we talk later?”

But I guess counseling was the easiest, least suspicious option.

Smiling slightly, I answered before the other students could eavesdrop.

“If you’re fine with me, sure. Anytime.”

“…Thanks. Seriously.”

…Had that early-morning solo session actually helped?

My condition was surprisingly stable.

“Surprisingly” being the key word.

Just like before, my head felt foggy.

Even with work right in front of me, focus was hard—my mind kept wandering elsewhere.

It wasn’t “I need sex” levels yet, but “I need to take care of this” kept looping in my head.

Probably early stages of heat.

Never had these filthy thoughts before meeting that bastard.

But resolving this with him before evening was out of the question.

Waiting till after dark? …A gamble.

Even if I could manage now, what if symptoms suddenly worsened?

So my choice mirrored last time.

“Somehow” resolve this between the tail-end of lunch and its conclusion.

With the excuse of counseling, I just needed a place.

Sneaking into the emergency staircase like that couple before.

Finding some deserted corner to use for a bit.

Another method.

Anything.

“Did you not sleep well yesterday?”

“…Not your concern. I’ll handle it.”

“Uh, you sure you aren’t running a fever? Here—”

“Don’t you dare use that excuse to touch me. I’ll snap your wrist…”

“Yikes. Scary…”

…Dodging the nuisance of the overly eager vice president who assumed an opportunity like last time had come again.

Shoving aside that trash who claims he doesn’t feel jealous over girls.

Somehow.