The Party (2)
"Since we're all bored anyway, why don't we play a game?"
Ter's proposal.
Her words piqued my interest. If you're throwing a drinking party, you've got to play at least one drinking game.
"A game? If you're planning to make us do something weird, forget it."
At Ter's words, Chloe clicked her tongue with an irritated huff.
There was a heckler's edge to her tone, but Ter parried it with easy composure.
"My, my. Why is our future head of household so on edge, I wonder?"
"I can see exactly what you're trying to do. You're angling to mess with people again, aren't you?"
"How hurtful. I only made a suggestion out of a simple wish for everyone here to have a good time."
Brutal.
Chloe's barbs were as venomous as a hornet's sting. Ter absorbed them like shock-padding, brushing them off without so much as a blink. And caught in the crossfire between the two were the poor souls suffering through it all.
"Ahaha, everyone's so full of energy today."
Arlan forced an awkward laugh, doing her best to soften the murderous atmosphere.
Eva, too scared to even open her mouth, kept her gaze glued to the floor.
And Marin...
"Wow. They fight good."
She offered her blunt, unvarnished assessment out loud.
Even I could tell this standoff was intense.
Come to think of it, Ter did hate Chloe.
My run-in with Ter at the artificial dungeon had thrown the timeline off course, but in the original story, the conflict between these two was showcased early on and shown well.
Chloe was close with Yupi, defended her, and stood by her side. Naturally, Ter couldn't stand the sight of her. Even the harsh treatment Eva received had been half driven by the fact that Eva was Chloe's best friend.
But what could I do?
"Chloe, Ter is just trying to liven up the mood here. Don't come down on her so hard."
Yes, I was taking Ter's side.
Zzt!
The moment I defended her, Chloe's frosty glare locked onto me. Her face practically screamed that she couldn't comprehend why anyone would side with a creature like this.
Isn't it weirder that you'd expect me to take your side?
Look, being annoyed that Ter had wedged her way into this gathering was one thing, but getting bent out of shape because someone suggested a game at a drinking party? That was a stretch. Besides, I'd always been the one occupying that exact position whenever she wasn't around, so I couldn't help but project a little.
"Oh my? Solis, defending me? Is this the power of the heart?"
"I simply weighed right and wrong through rational, level-headed judgment. I had no intention of taking anyone's side."
"Oh really, now? Then why are you looking over here with such passionate eyes while saying that?"
Ter pressed her body flush against mine.
A dress that flaunted a shockingly aggressive level of exposure — one wrong tug and her chest might spill right out. She rubbed herself against me, pushing that plunging cleavage, a valley so deep you couldn't see the bottom of it, right into my face. She was the spitting image of a room salon hostess.
Tacky beyond belief.
This called for some strict discipline. I wanted to spank that plump, springy flesh until it swelled red.
Sadistic urges surged over me like a rising tide.
"Men love big breasts, don't they? How about you?"
Like a carrot, obviously. Goddamn!
A woman's voluptuous milk jugs are worth touching even if you have to grovel on the floor like a dog and lick feet to do it. I'd stake my life on the claim that not a single man on this earth dislikes big breasts. Anyone who says otherwise is, nine times out of ten, either a gay little bastard getting pinned beneath another man, moaning in a raspy voice, or a deviant with aberrant appetites who feasts on abysses beyond human comprehension.
Even the flat-is-justice faction merely loves small breasts — show them a big pair and most of them will go whoa, them titties and pounce with both hands anyway.
"If you want, I'll let you touch them right now."
An offer served on a silver platter. She was holding her arms out, ready to receive me.
That was the promise she'd made with me before the party, after all.
My head nearly nodded on its own.
"I'll pass. It'd be a bit much here."
But I swallowed my tears and turned down her generosity.
Chloe was staring at me like she was ready to tear me limb from limb that very second. So much as mime reaching for Ter's chest and she'd react instantly, fangs bared for blood.
I didn't want to ruin a party laid out with gourmet food and expensive liquor, you see.
I was just planning to postpone the breast-touching to a later opportunity when—
"Solis doesn't like big breasts."
At a statement I absolutely could not let slide, I whipped my head toward the source of the voice. There stood Marin, her paper-flat shoulders puffed out proudly.
"Solis likes small breasts. This is an indisputable fact."
"Oh my, is that so?"
"That's a lie. I am bigger-is-better. The bigger, the best, I say."
Marin, why are you suddenly inventing things that never happened?
I had no idea what was going on, but I corrected her fabrication and proudly set the record straight.
"Solis is weird. Until yesterday, you kept saying you liked my br—"
"Stop."
I hurriedly clapped a hand over Marin's mouth.
Thank goodness she was glued to my side — otherwise, yesterday's events would have been exposed to the entire world.
"Br—? What was that?"
"Mmhm! I think cutting people off mid-sentence is bad, though!"
"Mmph! Mmph!"
A bewildered Chloe, and Eva badgering us with curiosity, begging to be told what was going on. Marin struggled desperately to finish her sentence, so I squeezed my hand tighter over her mouth.
"Ohohoho~."
Damn it. Judging by her expression, that bitch Ter had caught on.
Things had gotten complicated.
Time to dodge the crisis with a lightning-fast change of subject.
"Anyway, let's get back to the drinking game talk. Everyone, pitch one idea each."
"M-me! Me first!"
Eva's hand shot up like a bolt of lightning.
The person furthest removed from drinking games of anyone here raised her hand, but if it meant redirecting Marin's attention elsewhere, I'd take anything.
"Go ahead, Eva."
"B-battle of Legends!"
"Explain what kind of game that is."
"A 5v5 MOBA where two teams battle to destroy the enemy Nexus! It's a true masterpiece of a game!"
Ah, so it's the otherworld League of Legends.
The similar name had made me wonder, and yep, there it was.
"That's a computer game. It has literally nothing to do with a drinking party."
"B-but you can play it on mobile, so couldn't that work...?"
Would it hell.
Eva's proposal was dismissed.
She was glued to her phone day and night. Sure, I stayed up late sometimes watching YouXube Shorts too, but unless it was urgent, I never pulled my phone out of my pocket when I was out socializing with people. It had zero connection to drinking, anyway — sitting at a fun get-together hunched over your phone, hammering away at a keyboard, was a crime. Save that stuff for home or the PC bang.
If you get invited to a drinking party, you commit to things related to the drinking party.
"I'm sorry. I don't really know games like that."
"What's a drinking game?"
Arlan and Marin, starting with me, had only just begun learning how to interact with people. There was no way they'd know the first thing about game types.
"If we're doing this, the person who suggested it should just decide, don't you think?"
Chloe, clearly fed up with the whole situation itself, lazily dumped the decision in Ter's lap — figure it out yourself. Ter closed her eyes and fell into thought.
She sat perfectly still in deep meditation for a good while, then seemed to reach a conclusion and clapped her hands with a cheerful ring.
"How about King's Game?"
The King's Game.
A party classic: you draw lots to pick a King, the King designates two people, and orders them to do absolutely anything.
Pretty heavy for a first drinking game, but the fun was guaranteed. I'd played it now and then myself, back when a crowd gathered or when I was helping friends set each other up with lovers.
The more people, the more fun it is, after all.
Seven players, myself included. The main cast of Academy Yuri Princess throwing themselves into a wild, slapstick, anything-goes King's Game — a whole axis of nonstop comedic episodes, friendship and hijinks included.
As a reader who loved the novel, there could be no greater joy. I was looking forward to it.
"A King's Game needs lots to draw, though. Where are you planning to get those?"
"Just shape them out of mana, obviously. Our future head of household is supposedly a martial artist, and she doesn't even know how to make a stick and a cup?"
Thud!
"There. Done?"
Provoked past her limit, Chloe conjured a mana cup and a set of lots matching the number of players, and set them down in front of Ter.
"Goodness, well done, Chloe!"
"Hmph. Chloe, don't do it!"
"Eva, don't stop me. I'm going to kill that bastard."
Once again, Chloe took the bait hook, line, and sinker and flew into a rage.
That girl didn't have a single day where she wasn't seething about something.
"Solis, what's a King's Game?"
"It's a type of drinking game. You draw lots to randomly choose one King, and the King gives orders to the players. Simple as that."
"Comprehension complete."
I patiently explained the rules for the newbies like Arlan and Marin who'd never heard of it. It would be a problem if the number they drew got called, or if they became King, and they had no idea how to play.
Anyway, with that, preparations were complete. All that remained was drawing lots to choose the King.
Rattle-rattle!
"Everyone, take one lot each."
Like a bartender mixing a cocktail, Ter swirled the lots around inside the cup and held it out to us. We drew in clockwise order — me, Marin, Arlan, Eva, then Chloe. Ter, who'd shaken the cup, took the last remaining lot.
So, who would become the first King?
"Oh my. It's me."
Ter. Jackpot.
She was our first King.