episode_0111

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Whether in an actual courtroom, a drama,

or even internet news—

unless you’re still too young to appreciate black comedy,

there’s one line anyone old enough to handle a smartphone has likely heard somewhere at least once.

“I was drunk.”

“So I don’t remember.”

“I’m sorry.”

Thanks to this, terms like “mental and physical weakness” spread widely and began to be recklessly overused…

But that’s a slightly different story.

The reason I brought this up is all because of one shameless woman on the other side of KakaoTalk.

No—a shameless bitch who acts completely innocent even though she could scroll up at any moment to see all the evidence of what she spat out yesterday.

Right now, she’s typing out the kind of excuse you’d expect from a bald old man dragged into court.

[Crazy bitch]

—Did a cat step on ur keyboard

—I don’t remember sending that shit??

—Hmm. Feels kinda fake too…

—Wow, now ur pulling this kinda crap.

—Irrecyclable, trash-tier human scum waste bastard.

No. I take that back.

At least the bald old man begs for forgiveness to reduce his sentence.

Even though it’s been a while since he drank and he should be sober by now, he’s still putting on an act like his Korean is clumsy in front of Han Sua.

…And when it comes to insults, he makes sure to articulate every syllable perfectly before crumpling them up and throwing them her way.

Should I smile?

Or click my tongue?

Lost in ambiguous emotions, I exhaled a “Hmm” and quickened my pace.

What should I say? Seeing someone who knows spelling and spacing better than most Koreans deliberately pretending otherwise is—astonishing, I guess?

Or maybe watching her stubbornly maintain this act even after getting thoroughly violated yesterday under the pretense of alcohol—going beyond “ruthless” into “impressive”—is the better take?

…Probably both.

Which is why my feelings are so unclear right now.

“Huu….”

“…….”

…Well, maybe that’s why part of me does want to pressure her until she confesses the truth outright and declares herself my slave—

But this is Yozora we’re talking about.

And right now, it’s 8 AM on a Monday—a time when people of all ages are at their weakest, mentally and physically.

Plus, whatever the process, she did successfully plant some weird ideas in Han Sua’s head…

No point wasting energy on a crazy bitch first thing in the morning.

I sent a vague reply along the lines of “see you later” and pocketed my phone in my health teacher’s coat.

There was a guest waiting.

“…So, the injured student is in Training Hall 2?”

“Ah, yes. That building over there.”

“I see.”

Refreshing the mood, I put on my brightest smile and chatted with the male student beside me.

Ideally, I’d avoid mixing with the same gender or voice, but we can’t always do what we like.

As the health teacher (and health committee member), I should at least do my job properly.

Like making house calls for students who can’t come to the infirmary—and hiding how bothersome it is—instead of telling them to “carry them here themselves.”

Anyway, stepping out of the main building into the crisp early spring air, I entered the cube-shaped training hall.

Maybe the patient waiting would be a promising future hero with gemstone-like potential…

Not that I seriously expected it,

but sure enough—

No such convenient event occurred.

Instead, the patient turned out to be an excessively muscular male student.

Stuck in this dreary, male-only space, I forced a smile and treated his sprained ankle.

I’ve fixed plenty of men’s ankles as a villain, but doing it now feels oddly repulsive.

I let out a sigh too quiet for the two to hear.

And right after returning to the infirmary, having endured their creepy gratitude—

“…….”

On the infirmary bed—

A head of wheat-blonde hair, now deeply familiar, swayed drowsily against the bed’s curtain pole.

Almost as if its owner was sitting there, nodding off.

Swaying gently.

111

I didn’t lock the door immediately.

First, assess the situation.

Pranks,

secret games—

Those can wait until I have better control over things.

Closing the door silently, I sat on the bed opposite Han Sua, ready to improvise if another student walked in.

I didn’t even take off my coat like usual.

Playing the part of a proper health teacher would make minor slip-ups easier to brush off.

“…….”

“Zzz….”

And so,

I watched Han Sua sleep soundly, completely exhausted.

Her usually sharp eyes, softened by sleep, now formed gentle arcs beneath her eyelids.

I considered taking a photo for future conversation material but quickly reconsidered.

If the shutter woke her, this rare chance would be wasted.

If she stayed asleep, I might get to do something even more fun.

I recall hearing her sharp, stiff demeanor was a complex of hers.

Not sure.

Rather than a complex, she’s just… pretty.

Maybe she’s the only one who doesn’t realize it.

That face,

that body—

With a personality like hers, she’s probably been stripped bare countless times in the filthy fantasies of her male classmates.

…At the very least,

in my villain-era fantasies,

her face, body,

and (gossip-tier) personality alone made it happen more than once.

Too fucking easy.

Cute lion ears,

a lion tail,

and her stubborn insistence on the codename “Blade Heart”—

A body disgustingly sexy,

yet her hero costume and casual outfits strictly adhered to Confucian norms—

Forcing smiles for male fans,

then immediately scowling at a slightly unkempt guy asking for a handshake—

…And yet, her pride is oddly strong,

stubbornly doubling down on mistakes until she reads the room and tucks her tail—

She just seems so pure.

Too fucking easy.

The thought of defiling her to my liking

only makes it easier.

“…….”

“Ngh….”

Even as I stared, Han Sua kept dozing, bobbing her head occasionally.

My index finger twitched on my thigh as I eyed her taut uniform shirt.

Glancing diagonally upward, something felt off.

Her usual shoulder bag was missing.

Hmm.

Seems she dropped by the classroom first.

In that case, regretfully…

Dragging this out might backfire.

Who knows what she told her classmates before coming here?

“…….”

It crossed my mind—does she even have friends?

And if Yozora might intervene smoothly.

But gambling seemed pointless.

I’d already stuffed her full of enough warped ideas—no need to rush.

Opportunities like this aren’t common, but this isn’t a do-or-die moment.

…So,

I’ll let it slide today.

“Sua.”

“…Nnn….”

“Stop sleep-talking and wake up. Why’d you come?”

“10 minutes….”

“10 minutes?”

“Mmmph….”

Muttering incomprehensibly, she swatted my hand away as I tapped her shoulder.

Then, instead of dozing against the pole, she flopped onto the bed completely and began breathing softly.

…The way her ample chest rose and fell with each breath was quite the sight,

but sadly, I didn’t have the leisure to grab them and lightly bite her nipples.

Someone could barge in anytime, like with that male student earlier.

And I sure as hell can’t honestly tell them we’re sex partners.

Perfect-seeming heroes crumbling over something as basic as lust—

the more secretly it happens, the hotter it is.

Scratching my nose, I sighed deeply and pinched Han Sua’s cheek lightly.

“Wake up. You think this is a hotel?”

“Nngh….”

She let out a tiny moan, eyebrows furrowing adorably.

The softness of her cheek—almost devoid of any cosmetic texture—felt unnervingly good.

Light pinches,

rubbing,

poking—

No disappointment, just pure satisfaction.

If it’s this good, maybe I should grind my cock against her cheek later…

“Ngh….”

“…Hey. Han Sua.”

…As if protesting,

she shifted slightly,

her lips brushing against my thumb on her cheek.

“Mmm….”

“…Spit it out.”

Instead, she swallowed.

Like she’d learned from yesterday’s blowjob,

she lightly sucked my finger,

then began enthusiastically licking the tip with her tongue.

…Good thing my nails are short.

Should I worry about another student walking in?

Or just stuff my hardening cock into sleep-talking Han Sua’s mouth?

My thoughts tangled briefly.

“…Pfah…. Blehh….”

“…….”

Pulling my finger toward her cheek made her go “Bleeeh—” and open her mouth.

…A few neat, white teeth peeked out.

Even now, her tongue kept flicking against my finger—

Was this her way of protesting,

or lingering muscle memory from the blowjob?

“Slrp…. Pfblt….”

Bad thoughts.

Worse thoughts.

…And then, truly filthy thoughts followed.

Adjusting my pants under my coat, I pulled my damp finger out and began relentlessly poking her cheek.

“Ngh, hey…. W-Wait…. Ow….”

“Wake up. Don’t even think about sleeping here.”

“Huh? Think… huh….”

“…What dream had you moaning like that?”

“……?!”

After sucking my finger so eagerly, maybe it was a lewd dream.

Or one about breastfeeding.

Could’ve been anything—or nothing at all.

Just a joke to lighten the awkwardness.

But—

“…Uh, well….”

“….”

“…I was… giving you… a blowjob….”

“….”

Before I could even ask why she came to the infirmary—

while still half-asleep—

honestly answering like that?

—Click