Pong! Rozalia's Pink Overload and the Sparring Challenge

❤️Pong!

A cute sound effect burst from the top of Rozalia's head.

"H-Hoeet…?! Saying that at the end is cheating…!♥"

Her face flushed red enough to explode. White steam puffed up from her head. Her body melted into a gooey puddle, sinking deep into the worn-out mattress.

That one phrase I'd known she desperately wanted to hear. Rozalia's mind was overrun with pink haze.

"…"

Soon, she lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot.

"I looove you… really, really love ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you, Karn…♥ Ehehehe."

Her face was utterly lost in happy delusion.

"…Where should we hold the wedding? I wanna marry Karn soon♥"

*Peck peck.* Sizzle, sizzle. Between her frog-like spread legs, her pussy twitched and fluttered, spewing a flood of her own juices on top of my semen.

The bedsheets turned into a sopping puddle of Rozalia's sticky love nectar, but I didn't point it out.

...I'll let her bask in that sweet delusion for a while.

Two at once. Total of 6 now.

I pulled up Rozalia's status window right in front of me.

I spent 5 Netorights to convert them into 1 Vulgar Netoright. Used the remaining 1 to unlock her secret.

A translucent message appeared, and Rozalia's secret flooded into my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mind.

A vivid vision rushed in.

Past Rozalia. Much skinnier than now. In front of her towered a mountain of macarons.

Rozalia pulled out a quill pen from her bosom. She wrote in the air. Golden letters etched along the quill's path.

The vision faded. I was floored.

She'd really done that crap just to match my tastes.

Chomp by chomp. Munching those macarons.

And what the hell was that quill? A brush that overwrites reality's causality. A cheat artifact that bends unseen miracles.

I was stunned, but a laugh bubbled up.

'So you remodeled yourself bit by bit into my perfect fetish body?'

One more thing to tease her about.

I looked down at Rozalia sprawled on the bed.

"Hey. Macaron."

"Huh…? Macaron…?"

"Were they tasty? The macarons that only fattened your tits and hips."

Rozalia froze. Her dazed golden eyes shook like an earthquake.

"Y-You… no way, did you see thaaat…?!"

"Piggy princess, right? All the fat went straight to your boobs."

"N-No! Why would you even look at that! Karn's an idiot…!"

She yanked the blanket over her head. Her ear tips poking out were tomato red.

Cute.

🌸 First day at the academy.

The dream academy life I'd longed for finally began.

The academy squeezed talent dry with brutally specialized courses in every broad field of study and knowledge.

I headed south. The zone clustered with physical education and arts buildings. Where knight faculty students mainly took classes.

My destination: the new Cell Broad Hall.

First major class there.

Academy rules were simple. Major required, electives optional. Fill promotion points in top 10% of major alone, skip electives.

But fall short? Crawl between east humanities buildings or others, plugging empty slots.

So most played safe, slotting two electives.

Rozalia whined to take electives together, but I refused. All-day sticking was plenty with majors.

No need to show off. She's the knight faculty's top goddess.

Hang with her, rumors of dating spread—trouble. If it hit Duke Bloomhart's ears? Chopped liver.

Inside Cell Broad Hall. Spotless white corridor, shoes reflected clear.

Opened the massive lecture hall door.

Circular grand chamber. Ceiling dizzyingly high. Tiered seats ringed around, uniquely with a wide arena in the center.

Knight faculty style.

Sat in a decent back row seat.

Amid the buzzing noise, my gaze flicked over.

Rozalia. In a corner seat, ice-cold without me nearby. Emotionless blank face. Utterly detached demeanor. Ignored surrounding stares and noise like a transcendent being.

Didn't care if others chattered, stared blankly into space.

Saw everyone but me as blurry silhouettes worse than roadside pebbles.

That eerie, pitiable aura. Yet in a lewd, hyper-exposed high-leg battle dress. Princess knight fashion from my fave erotic games.

Guy students gulped, stealing glances. Faces flushed red.

"……?"

Busted. Rozalia's head snapped my way at my gaze.

But then, an elegantly dressed lady approached. Lady of Count Carsio.

Blocked Rozalia's line of sight to me.

Glass-like golden eyes. Icy stare locked on Carsio.

Carsio scanned Rozalia's outrageously revealing dress top to bottom. Scoffed.

"Knight faculty standards have hit rock bottom. Here to seduce men in this sacred hall of learning, Lady Bloomhart?"

Thorny sarcasm. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Mocking irony.

The drill-hair lady from the debutante ball. Red dress cramming tits into corset—gone.

Now in skin-tight leggings academy uniform.

Whispers ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rose around.

Side characters feeding me info rom-com style.

"Whoa, no way. Lady Carsio vs. Lady Bloomhart."

A freckled cadet whispered.

"Carsio count family… old-school swordsmanship prestige too, right?"

"Yeah. But kinda outdated… lagging behind the times."

Whispers mixed with nasty static.

Lady Carsio's face turned tomato red.

Bam! She slammed her fist on the desk.

"I can hear everything…!!"

Panting hard, she snapped open a fancy fan outta nowhere, covering her mouth.

"Sigh… Anyway, did you really enroll just to dazzle men, Lady Bloomhart? Oh dear, how disappointing. Our grandfather saw your house as lifelong rivals…"

Her voice trembled. Spat out pent-up feelings, sharpening her barbs.

Neurotic rage aimed at Rozalia.

"…Then I can't forgive even myself. My rival a slut worse than a whore?!"

Provocation. Clear hostility.

But Rozalia didn't reply. Just propped her chin indifferently, eyeing Carsio like a noisy bug.

That detachment scraped Carsio's pride harder.

"Eek…!!"

Then the massive lecture hall door opened. Air crushed.

Thud. Thud. Footsteps. Overwhelming presence devouring the vast chamber.

"Sit. We're starting."

Low, husky voice. Mana laced in, slamming into eardrums.

Black coat, scar by eye, muscular woman. Wild red mane hair. Red eyes.

Original story's saintess ally. Setina.

Sharp and prickly exterior, warm inside. My frequent sword instructor ahead. Academy professor.

"Setina. Mercenary background. Skipping roll call. All here."

Super casual. This okay?

She scratched her red hair roughly. Too lax.

"Straight to it. Nothing to teach. Spar yourselves. I'll evaluate."

Retract casual. She's skipping the whole lecture.

Hall murmured. Complaints about to erupt, she sighed long.

"You're in the academy—skill proven. Polishing finished swordsmanship? Pointless."

"I'll point out fatal habits from your spars."

A hand rose.

"You. Northern guy. Speak."

"Can't fight the instructor?"

Gazes converged. Silver hair, red eyes. Wild scars etched on body. Berga Silverstein.

Original's northern duke heir. Persistent guy confessing to saintess daily, rejected on loop…

He grinned with competitive fire.

Setina rubbed her chin.

"Fine. Top grade gets a shot. Beat me, one wish granted."

Academy instructor wish. Wild reward.

Setina instructor wrapped up.

"Spar now. One bout each. Full power. Gotta rank you—don't make it annoying."