Tainted Lips and Divine Doubts
I slipped out of the dingy building reeking of stale sweat. I filled my lungs with fresh air. My chest still felt tight, clogged up inside.
My lower half was damp and sticky with the cooled remnants of watery pleasure. My mind was charred black, probably from jerking off too damn much.
The academy grounds were quiet in the afternoon. It was prime time for specialized classes. I wandered aimlessly toward the campus park.
Ahead, along the tree-lined path, a picture-perfect couple approached. Descartes and Rozalia.
"……."
They were heading straight for the main gate, clearly ditching the rest of the afternoon classes. Their destination was obvious.
A luxury motel or some discreet royal hideaway. She'd just cleaned his cock and asshole thoroughly in that filthy bathroom. Now it was time to roll around skin-to-skin on a wide, plush bed like lovers.
My gaze lingered on Rozalia's face. More precisely, her lips.
Plump, moist, jelly-pink lips that only I used to touch. The soft flesh I'd playfully knead when she pouted. So velvety and sweet, I'd want to fondle them all day.
Lips are a lover's tool for expressing every bit of affection. She'd pepper me with kisses from those cute, squishy jellies whenever she felt like it.
On my cheeks, forehead, nape. Even mid-meal with a smack, or on walks when our eyes met—smack. Over a hundred times a day, leaving love's marks all over me.
And those lips had just sucked Descartes's asshole. Not a mere peck. She'd stretched out her tongue, shoving it deep into a man's dirtiest orifice for a full-on French kiss.
From now on, every time she bird-pecked me, I'd remember. That soft, lovely pink jelly had greedily lapped at another man's filthy asshole wrinkles.
Rozalia's pretty lips were indirectly kissing Descartes's shithole.
I wanted to spring a rock-hard erection right then. But I'd jerked off too much today.
Suddenly, a black surge of murderous rage boiled up from my solar plexus.
Descartes. You bastard. The empire's noblest prick plays the dirtiest. Should I just kill him...?
But my pathetic little dick twitched feebly in my pants, attempting a gloomy semi-erection that mocked my impulse. Crushing defeat smothered the killing intent in an instant. My shrunken mini-me seemed to be telling me to face reality.
Snap out of it. We're obsolete beta cucks, remember.
Fuck. I know, I get it.
He's the apex alpha male protagonist of this romance-fantasy world. Cock ridiculously huge, power absolute—the prince. I get off hard watching it.
But isn't the pace too fast, you fucker? To you, she's just ass-wipe for your cum. To me, she's the girl I loved enough to die for in my past life.
I stopped walking and leaned casually against the side of the path. They drew closer.
Rozalia was a sight. Her lavender dress, rumpled from rolling on the floor, was heavily creased. Strands of hair clung messily to her nape. But her face—
"Hehe, Your Highness is too much..."
She clung tightly to his firm arm, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. A smile of utter bliss, like she owned the world. No trace of the humiliated bitch who'd licked filth in front of a dirty toilet moments ago. Instead, her eyes burned with heat, drunk on the prince's massive tool, desperate to collapse onto a motel bed right now.
The distance closed. Rozalia's eyes met mine.
For a split second, her languid golden gaze sharpened. An elegant noble lady's mask snapped into place.
"Oh, Karn. Hello."
Rozalia beamed and waved, spotting me. A perfectly normal, cheerful greeting for a close classmate.
But her disheveled state was anything but normal. The Rozalia who'd just swallowed cock-slime and burped up cum awkwardly. Traces of her bathroom romp lingered blatantly on her body.
Lidded eyes heavy with satisfaction. A smile soaked in toxic bliss as she pressed her breasts against the prince's arm.
And.
...Fucking insane bitch.
Her plump, moist pink lower lip. At the corner, a short, thick, curly dark hair clung, matted in saliva.
Descartes's asshole hair.
Oblivious to the man's ass hair on her pretty lips, she smiled innocently before me like a fairy-tale princess.
My chest seized up.
"Skipping afternoon classes...?"
I forced the words out.
"Yeah. His Highness knows a great teahouse in the city and offered to take me."
Teahouse. As if she wasn't about to tumble on motel sheets gobbling cum. Rozalia nuzzled the prince's shoulder coquettishly. The gestures of a tamed bitch flattering her master.
Descartes glanced at me, flashed a friendly nod and smile. All while treating me like untouchable peasant scum inside.
"See you later, Karn. Tomorrow."
She brushed past me.
Whoosh. A faint rose scent mingled with the musky night-bloom odor soaked into her skin, grazing my nose.
I stood frozen, rooted. Their backs receded toward the motel. Sweat beaded in my clenched fists. Arousal and shitty defeat raced through my veins together.
Lately, being around Rozalia choked me. Before, I'd tease slyly and watch her blush and squirm. Now she held all the power. She was actively delivering the netorase I secretly craved, pushing my mind to the brink.
Stress maxed out. I needed a breather. Calming my pounding heart, I headed deeper into the park.
A quiet path bathed in afternoon sun. After a long walk, a silver crown poked out from round bushes.
"……."
In the corner of the path, someone huddled behind small shrubs, knees drawn up. A tall, slender frame. The silver-haired saintess, Iris Cromwell. No matter how curled up, her lanky build couldn't hide fully behind waist-high bushes.
Like an ostrich head-in-sand.
I cleared my throat and approached.
"Saintess. What are you doing there?"
The bushes shuddered. Silver hair whipped around. Iris Cromwell looked up at me, eyes wide like a startled rabbit. Panic clear in her blue gaze.
"Shh!"
She pressed a finger urgently to her lips.
"Be quiet. You'll get me caught."
"By who?"
"The silver-haired psycho from the knight faculty, and the blonde psycho from politics."
Berga and Descartes. She'd fled to these bushes to escape the original story's beastly obsessives' pursuits. At least one was gone now—must be livable.
I chuckled softly.
"That blonde psycho left for a shady spot in the city with Rozalia... er, a quiet teahouse."
"Really?"
Iris finally exhaled in relief, uncurling her long legs a bit.
"Thank goodness... His Highness is so overwhelming, I've been dodging him constantly."
Dry leaves clung to her silver hair. I reached out, brushing them off. Soft strands tickled my fingertips pleasantly.
"Hiding in bushes with that height? Ostrich much?"
"What's an ostrich?"
"A dumb bird that thinks burying its head hides the whole body."
"...You're teasing me, right?"
Iris glared, eyes narrowing. No threat—just relaxing. Banter with someone eased my clogged chest a little.
I plopped down on the grass in front of the bushes, my body shielding her huddled form like a breakwater.
"Why's Cadet Karn sitting here instead of going?"
"Ditched class."
"Me too."
Rebellion unfit for a saintess. I propped my elbows on my knees.
"I'll hide you, Saintess. Duck behind my back."
"You sure it works?"
"Perfect. Not a single hair showing."
"...Cadet Karn, you're more reliable than I thought."
Iris murmured from behind me. She rested her chin on her knees and sighed deeply.
"I'm exhausted. Why do they all cling so desperately? Saved their lives once in the winter north, and suddenly I'm responsible forever. Or they think I'm a pawn for their throne."
Grumbling tone.
"The world never leaves pretty, talented people alone."
"You gonna obsess over me too? Like last time, ogling my body with weird fantasies?"
Iris tilted her head, blue eyes poking me playfully.
"Nah, who'd dare with the Saintess? I'm taken anyway."
"Oh, that Bloomhart lady?"
"Yeah."
Saying Rozalia's name chilled my gut again. Visions of her nude, nose in Descartes's ass, tail wagging.
"Lucky."
Iris said curtly.
"You two look so happy. Light laughs, no heavy clinging or choking vibes."
"...That how it seems?"
"Yeah. I want that kind of romance. Just silly talk and shared laughs."
She buried her face in her knees.
"Saintess."
Topic shift.
"Last time, you said my body intrigued you."
"Yes, I did."
"Why? You a perv?"
"Cough!"
Iris choked, cheeks flushing red.
"W-what blasphemy! I'm a cleric!"
"Clerics have tastes too. Buff muscleheads, or skinny types like me."
"Not that!"
She swatted my shoulder indignantly.
"Sigh. It's because... our cathedral church worships the incarnation Eloah."
Mood sobered. Serious talk. I listened, chin propped, staring ahead.
"Our Lord who descended out of excessive love for humanity, only to return to heaven forgiven by the Father. ...You know?"
"Basic lore."
"Divine power is the Lord's blessing and consideration for humans He loved so dearly."
Iris's voice steadied.
"A warm gift from God for humanity. So any human should naturally accept it fully, without resistance or hindrance."
I knew. This world's core lore. Why cathedral knights were monster-strong. They absorbed holy heal/buffs cheat-free.
"But oddly... Cadet Karn's body is different."
I felt her gaze pierce my nape from behind.
"At first, divine power seeped in fine. Then suddenly, it repels like oil and water. Can't penetrate. As if... your flesh is ceasing to be human."
Adaptability. My body adapts abnormally to survive. Instinctively masters and absorbs spells. Treats holy power as foreign, repels it.
If so, will full adaptation remake my flesh too?
"Fascinating."
Iris's voice cooled the air around the bench.
"Meaning... you're drifting from humanity's path for some reason."
"……."
Silence. Her intuition pierced me. Beneath the banter buddy lurked a true transcendent's gaze.
I stared at my palm. I didn't even know why my body did this. Just adapted, like breathing.
But a question lingers. I pierce and adapt to any magic on contact. Why repel holy power without grasping its essence? Maybe because I accepted healing unconscious.
"Heh."
I smirked slyly.
"So I'm like 50% post-human now?"
Self-deprecating jest. Iris ignored it.
I turned, locking eyes with her.
"Gets me curious."
"About what?"
"You said divine power is for humans, accepted unconditionally."
"Yes."
I leaned toward her slightly.
"Fully adapting to it, endlessly containing that vast power to become a saintess... what does that make you?"
I lowered my voice.
"Monster? Angel?"
"……."
"You're drifting from humanity into monstrosity too, right?"
Wind rustled. Path leaves shivered eerily. Iris's lanky form stiffened like stone.
Silence. Her blue eyes quivered faintly. Only sunlight filtering through leaves lit her pale face. No reply.
Hit the mark. While all worshipped and craved her, no one questioned the vessel called "saintess."
Soon, a faint smile curved Iris's lips. That aloof, serene smile she flashed at romance leads. Somehow poignant.
"Who knows."
She murmured softly.
"So, even for curiosity's sake, I hope you get hurt a lot more, Cadet Karn."
Silver hair fluttered in the breeze. She tapped my shoulder, rising. Dusting grass off lightly.
"Then we'll meet more at the cathedral infirmary, right? Cadet Karn."