Back to the Present: Private Room Reunion
And back to the present, in the private room inside the Debutante Ballroom. The music dulled to a muffled hum beyond the closed door. Only after locking the heavy bolt did I finally exhale the breath I'd been holding.
The air outside still stung. As I'd hurried here like a fugitive, jealous glares had stabbed into my back.
"What's that pretentious prick...?"
"The baron's son? Just some country rat. Tch! And he made that pitiful, beautiful lady cry?"
The eldest son of a famed swordsmanship marquis house, his muscles bloated from training, blond hair slicked back—he'd blocked my path with that sleazy look, and I'd barely restrained the urge to shatter his jaw.
"Do you need assistance, Lady Bloomhart?"
The otome-game ladies obsessed with gossip and romance had chattered in my ears too. Oh my, oh my! What's going to happen?! Lady Bloomhart's eyes looked so intense! Could there be something between them...?!
Spouting nonsense without knowing a thing about me. I'd memorized every one of those shallow faces scheming to trash me socially.
Anyway. I leaned against the closed door. The woman who'd been sobbing in my arms slowly lifted her head. My ex-girlfriend. No—Lady Bloomhart.
"...Sniff. Sorry."
Her tear-choked voice shattered the room's silence.
"Seeing your face up close... I just couldn't hold back..."
The reason for her tears: emotions overwhelming her, spiraling out of control. Ever since her past life, she'd always been hypersensitive like this. She'd sniffle at a sad movie, and as a kid, she'd bawl her eyes out at a reddening sunset, wailing that our time apart was coming.
"At first, I thought I'd slap you and call it even. I was gonna introduce myself brightly, but..."
Her shoulders trembled.
"The closer I got... I kept remembering how you gave me your heart..."
"I made things awkward, huh...?"
My breath caught. Tears halted at the edges of her reddened eyes. In that shaky moment of her gaze, mine instinctively slid downward.
I couldn't help it. Over the dress, her massive, meaty tits strained to burst free. A teardrop beaded in the violently deep cleavage, trickling slickly down.
No wonder those rutting males had been flipping out earlier. For a "pitiful lady" in an otome world, she was pure porn—designed to trigger male instincts.
Everything but her breasts, ass, and thighs was slender and delicate. Long neck, fragile wrists like they'd snap, cinched waist. Beneath her innocent flower-like face hung heavy slabs of flesh that jiggled constantly, like she was in perpetual heat. A size no real bra could handle. Readers would've raged in the comments: Author, you're a baron's son, right? That body doesn't make sense—immersion broken. I'm out. A vulgar, cock-teasing body that'd drive anyone mad, worn by a clueless cutie who tempted without knowing. Optimized for my tastes, carved straight from my fantasies—and now here in reality.
I rubbed my dry face and sighed deeply. Dizzying. I wanted to lock her in my room forever, take her out only for me to chew, lick, savor.
"I should be the one apologizing."
My lips parted heavily.
"Sorry. It must've been hell for you..."
Her barely stopped tears burst again. They streamed down in rivulets, and with a wail of "Waaah—!", she burrowed back into my chest.
I wanted you to move on without me and be happy...
The harsh words I'd forced out before dying, hoping she'd live. Visiting her bedside, she'd sing about places she wanted to go. I knew how agonizing that cold hospital room must've been, how she'd stared at the door waiting for me. Our eyes met every time I entered.
For hours, I just stroked her back. Her heavy, soft flesh pressed flawlessly against my chest. In the cramped room, we two vomited up the raw emotions buried deep in our hearts.
How much she'd suffered, how desperately she'd craved me. All it confirmed was that my choice to save her had twisted her guts like a blade.
Her tear-soaked lips parted again.
"I don't resent you... I would've done the same."
"Really?"
My hand reached for her face.
"Then I'm touching you more."
I stretched her cheeks with both hands. Squishy, chewy like baby fat.
"Ah, ahn! I do resent you a little...! Stop groping so shamelessly!"
Her words slurred as she puffed her cheeks in a pout. I chuckled, refusing to stop playing.
"Such a cute face, but what the hell is this body? So shamelessly vulgar. Not embarrassed?"
Teasing her was pure bliss. I poked her cheeks with a grin and stepped back.
"Wh-what!? Vulgar?! I wake up possessed in this body—what am I supposed to do?!"
She bristled, feigning composure. She yanked her dress skirt taut, cleared her throat, and haughtily lifted her chin.
"Ahem. So, who might you be? Decent-looking face."
"Me? Karn. Karn von Mercier. Second son of the pleb family that bought a title selling underwear."
"Pfft! Underwear? Matches you perfectly."
"I'm Rozalia von Bloomhart. The frail youngest daughter of a border count. Pleased to meet you, idiot Karn."
She pinched her dress hem and curtsied flawlessly—perfect noble etiquette. But admiration gave way to thick lust first. As she bent, her twin orbs swayed heavily, practically sloshing with an audible glorp. Graceful poise, violent visual impact.
Hng... eyes glued. Gonna bust a nut and die.
Calling her "sis" in my head suddenly pissed me off.
I said she was a reliable senior figure? With this body?
My pride smarted. How insanely fuckable was she? Even breathing was an AOE mental assault.
I feigned a grave expression.
"Hey. Truth is... I've got a serious dilemma. About a woman..."
A woman? ...Another one?
Her poignant golden eyes narrowed sharply. Rozalia's voice dropped low.
"...What? Why so serious?"
"No, not like that."
"Then what?! Spit it out already!"
Rozalia glared, tense. Meeting her earnest face, I opened my mouth as solemnly as possible.
"Can I just knead those massive mochi moobs once?"
"......What?"
My relentless gaze-rape and teasing finally broke her patience. Face flushed to the limit, her slender hands balled into hammers and pounded my chest mercilessly.
Thwap! Thud! Thud!
Feather-light, painless slaps. Rozalia clung tight atop me, grinding her body in a tantrum. The slick softness pressing between my legs had attacker and defender alike giggling, savoring our private time.
How much time passed? As the heat subsided, my ex began briefing me on the original story's setup. She donned some dorky glasses from who-knows-where—handy specs that explained things clearly.
Her lips moved, reciting vast info dumps, but it barely registered. Propping my chin, I stared blankly at her glum, bespectacled face until I yawned and blurted,
"Those glasses look awful on you, teach."
"Ugh...! Fine, skipping to the main point."
Face beet-red, Rozalia hastily flung off the nerdy frames. Avoiding my eyes, she spun her pupils wildly. Steam practically chugged from her crimson head.
"Puhaha! You're a full-on steam engine right now. Lost your mind, Lady Bloomhart?"
"Sh-shut up! I'm super serious right now!"
A bit calmed, she took a deep breath. Her tits surged like waves, threatening to spill from the dress. Looking up at me now, her expression was resolute, shame vanished.
"I know all your tastes."
"...What?"
I doubted my ears. Rozalia fidgeted her slender hands and continued.
"After you died... that 200GB folder on your room PC. All those filthy, depraved adult vids too vulgar to name... I cleared every last one."
Felt like a sledgehammer to the skull. She slipped a hand into her bountiful cleavage, pulling out a small, body-warmed gift box and offering it.
Whoa!!! Tit pocket!
She looked like a pure girl shyly confessing to her first crush. But her words' weight and the overwhelming eroticism clashed. What chilled me most was her gaze—those poignant golden eyes gazing up, brimming with sickly, devoted love, like pink hearts floating inside.
"You died for me... so this life, I'll live for you. No—let me live for you."
"Rozalia, you..."
"I've prepared this for you. Open it... and you'll see my resolve."