Chapter 139: Retaliatory Marking

Ｒ​ｅａｄ ｏｎ Ｋ​ａｔＲｅ​ａｄｉ​ｎｇＣａｆｅ​

A woman baring her bra straddles a man, pressing her lips to his collarbone.

Her flushed cheeks savored his scent before she part her lips with a smooch. Then, she sucked at his skin, drawing out a wet sound.

‘I want to try it too. I wonder how it feels.’

She doesn’t know why curiosity suddenly grips her. Maybe to soothe the unease from her abrupt emotional shift—or perhaps to understand what drives a man to do this.

“Haa…”

Either way, Riley feels like his soul might leave his body from the sheer intensity of the situation.

“At least keep your clothes on.”

“So… you didn’t like seeing it?”

“…You’re pretty.”

“Hehe…”

Even though she’d just claimed her rationality was about to snap, something seems to have flipped in her. She rubs her soft chest against him, making lewd noises as she sucks.

“Mmm… smooch… Haa… Does it hurt?”

“…Not really.”

She doesn’t want to hurt him. Even her bites are gentle, just the faintest press of teeth. She can’t bring herself to be rough.

‘This is so embarrassing… How does Riley even do this?’

The warmth of his breath against her skin makes her self-conscious.

‘I’m panting like this?’

Doing this while he’s fully conscious feels scandalous. Even Sugar, who’s far from ordinary, knows this isn’t normal. She’s mimicking him out of curiosity, but the more she does, the hotter her face burns.

When she glances up mid-act, she finds him watching her with heated eyes.

‘So embarrassing…’

Sugar buries her face against him again.

Now that she thinks about it, he’s been studying her reactions the whole time, savoring them.

She doesn’t get how he does that.

‘It’s because he’s a pervert. Seeing me as some kind of sexual object…’

How dare he look at his childhood friend like that!

She’d vaguely sensed his darker desires before, but hearing it from his own mouth makes it feel heavier.

‘So that time at the inn wasn’t just my imagination…’

Back when they’d shared a room, she’d agonized over what to do, torn between conflicting thoughts.

That was the first time she’d seen this marking urge of his—and now, here they are.

‘I should be understanding…’

Men. They’re hopeless.

Having once been the same gender, she gets it. But she would never feel lust toward her childhood friend.

So it’s fine.

She’ll indulge him a little.

It’s not like being touched by him feels good anyway.

By her childhood friend. By family. By someone younger. By a man.

Absolutely. Never.

Pride. Stubbornness. Though she doesn’t show it, she’s just as prideful as he is.

Even if their dynamic flipped as they grew up, deep down, she still sees him as her little brother, her junior. A mix of maternal affection and the teasing fondness of an older sister.

Everything she’s done for him has been out of that love. She’s known him since he was a snot-nosed eleven-year-old. Watching him grow up so well is nice, but sometimes, she misses the old days.

A faint smile tugs at her lips. Seeing her precious junior trying so hard to hold back his desires is endearing. He could’ve forced her—used his wish, pushed her down.

He could’ve taken what he wanted.

‘Not that I’d let him. I’d stop him and scold him.’

No matter what, that line can’t be crossed.

Her dilemma from the inn has reached a conclusion. Riley’s desires—she’ll accept them to a point, but no further. Because she cares for him, she’ll indulge him a little. But they’re not lovers.

He knows that, which is why he’s holding back.

We’re not lovers.

“…”

Sugar’s lips twitch.

“Riley, do you like me…?”

“…I do.”

“I like you too, Riley.”

She smiles as she says it, but something in her chest aches. A searing heat, a needle-like sting.

Why? They care for each other so much. Isn’t that enough? No childhood friends could be closer than they are.

‘Is it because I’m too obsessed with him?’

Would locking him away ease this feeling?

‘Wait—locking him up?! What am I thinking?!’

As if voicing her panic, her next mark comes out rougher. Riley’s languid sigh sends a thrill through her.

“Nngh… I’m done now.”

‘This is exhausting.’ Her head is a mess. As if cutting herself off, she gives his nape one last bite before pulling away.

For the finale, Sugar fastens her blouse and tilts her neck toward Riley. The weary-looking man leans in, pressing light kisses to her skin.

“Eek… Haha. That tickles.”

After marking five or six spots, he fastens her choker. The sensation makes her shiver.

“Just so we’re clear, normally, all of this would be… you know?”

“I know…”

“Don’t get the wrong idea, okay? Like I always say—I’m only doing this because it’s you.”

Marking, flashing her underwear—none of this is something friends normally do.

The marking is to help him cope with his obsession.

The underwear? Well, she’d bought a cute new set and wanted to show it off.

Call it a service.

‘…He praised me so much.’

He’s usually stingy with compliments. Remembering him calling her pretty over and over makes her lips curl up.

Sugar giggles, glancing down at the marks littering Riley’s collarbone. Just looking at them sends shivers down her spine.

‘So this is how it feels…’

She understands him a little better now. That sticky, unresolved obsession—it feels like some of it has been soothed.

Dazed, Sugar yawns and flops onto the couch.

“Sleepy… This was harder than I thought.”

Was it mentally draining? She rolls onto her side beside Riley, exhausted. Between classes and the trip to Sky Island, she’s had a long day.

“Rest. I’ll wake you.”

“Mmm… Thanks…”

As she closes her eyes, she feels fabric drape over her. Peeking, she sees Riley tucking a cloak around her.

So sweet.

Drunk on satisfaction, her limp body sinks into the couch. For some reason, she feels like she’ll sleep very well tonight.

***************

Silence fills the clubroom.

Evening.

In the dim orange glow, Riley sits up, watching Sugar—who’d ridden him until she tired out—sleep soundly.

No matter how he looks at it, the situation is absurd. His head spins.

‘What was with that underwear?!’

Who even thinks of showing off like that? Was her upbringing in the Holy City lacking? Thinking of Ian, who’d pushed herself on men, only makes it worse.

He wishes she’d consider his struggle. Once a line is crossed, there’s no going back. The first step is the hardest—after that, it’s a freefall.

Haa…

Riley presses his fingers to his throbbing temples.

Well, today’s ordeal is over. Now’s his chance—while she’s asleep—to act.

He unfolds a grimoire, reciting the incantation within. Ominous mana rises as faint light spills from the pages.

The next step is simple.

Press your forehead to hers, close your eyes, and let go.

The moment he does, his consciousness plummets. Down, down into a void. To avoid losing himself, he forces his eyes open.

Time to see what’s inside that little head of hers.

He’s wanted to know ever since the Healing Center incident. If something harmful lurks in there, he needs to deal with it.

The decisive factor? The lantern.

Bringing an object from a dream into reality—and one that perfectly suits her newly gained eyes, no less. It’s like something out of an ancient tale from the era of the saints.

When he’d asked how she did it, she’d just said, “It worked when I tried.” So he has to see for himself.

A faintly glowing space appears in the distance. The passage of dreams. A neutral plane where consciousnesses collide. Landing there, Riley surveys his surroundings.

Soon, a tranquil forest comes into view—

“You shouldn’t be here. Leave.”

A voice coils around him the moment he perceives it.

Sweetly whispered, yet undeniably commanding. A tone that could ensnare anyone.

But its meaning is clear: Rejection.

‘…What?’

Before he can resist, his consciousness floats. He’d braced himself—whatever broke even seasoned dream-focused demons must be here.

Is this the cause? A single brush with it, and he senses the gap in their power.

‘But this voice…’

Before he can finish the thought, the floating sensation peaks. His vision spins—then snaps back to reality.

Expelled. Cleanly, instantly.

A hollow sigh escapes him.

Riley immediately looks at Sugar. Kuu— She snores, utterly oblivious. Her mouth hangs open as she mumbles in her sleep.

The sight only deepens his confusion. That voice is the problem.

“Just what… are you hiding?”

Familiar yet foreign—no, definitely familiar.

A voice too mature, too detached—too much like his partner’s.