Rohan's Happiness Circuit
“Nngh...”
Rohan opened his eyes, feeling utterly refreshed.
Was this really the effect of just a thirty-minute power nap?
The hangover was completely gone—his head was clear, his body light.
'Feels like I slept for hours.'
As he savored the sensation, habit took over and his hand fumbled around.
He grabbed the phone he'd tossed aside.
“Huh?”
When he turned it on, the time on the screen was off. Question marks flooded his mind.
'Not AM... PM?'
He'd lain down for a quick morning nap, but lunchtime had come and gone.
It was that awkward mid-afternoon hour, too early for dinner.
He rubbed his eyes, but the clock trapped in the screen didn't budge.
'I definitely said wake me in thirty minutes... Did they just let me sleep? Was I out that cold?'
Lost in such idle thoughts, he started to head out to find Sion and Clara—
—when Rohan sensed it.
An oddly irritating sensation in his lower body.
“...?”
A sudden chill swept over him.
Yet his gaze kept drifting downward, unstopping.
'No way... for real?'
A gross stickiness clung between his skin and pants.
Dried stains too.
The moment he registered it, the smell hit his nose.
A shiver ran up his spine. He checked.
Then despaired.
'Should I just die.'
Crashing at his female companions' place for a quick nap, and he has a wet dream?
His mind, which had endured Omega's torture, now teetered on the brink.
“...”
The clarity he'd felt upon waking might not have been from sleep at all.
Maybe just post-nut clarity.
'Haven't pulled out once since we started... Ah, I just wanna die. Any ropes around?'
As Rohan sank into deep anguish—
—the girls' chatter drifted in from beyond the door.
His mind froze like ice had been dumped over it.
Instinct scrambled for an escape from social suicide—or straight-up murder.
'Sion and Clara are out there.'
Whether they knew of this shameful mess or not, boldly striding out to greet them was off the table.
No way in hell.
'The window!'
His eyes locked on the perfect getaway.
Out that way, and he'd be golden.
Thank god the mansion was close to the dorms.
Change clothes, shower, hustle back—done.
Rohan moved as silently as possible.
Opened the window and slipped out, using his socks as makeshift shoes.
Cleaned up, swapped to pants in a matching color.
He pulled off the whole routine in under ten minutes.
Then swiped the card key at Sion's mansion gate and re-entered through the bedroom window.
Finally, he steadied his racing heart.
Slowly turned the knob and stepped out.
His pulse hammered—did Sion and Clara know?
“...Awake now?”
“O-Oppa... you slept a lot...”
There they sat at the new dining table.
The vibe felt off, ramping Rohan's tension double.
Had they not noticed him slipping out and changing?
No mention of it—he relaxed a bit and took a seat at the table.
Observed them.
'Changed clothes again?'
Getting ready to go out? Was this tense air because he'd overslept after they'd prepped?
Rohan's brain spun up rationalizations and happiness circuits in overdrive.
“Did you try waking me and I just conked out again?”
“W-Well... yeah.”
“...”
Sion answered, averting her eyes slightly.
Clara looked down, fidgeting with her fingers.
“Sorry, for real. You ate lunch, right?”
“...”
“...”
No reply this time. They both clamped their mouths shut.
Sion and Clara exchanged quiet glances, then unconsciously flicked their tongues out to wet their lips.
“...We ate our fill.”
“Y-Yeah...!”
From their attitudes, they'd scarfed something tasty and filled up.
But Rohan was starving.
Feeling the hunger, he pivoted to cheer them up.
“Bit late, but wanna head out now? Dinner and shopping.”
Volunteering as pack mule lit their eyes up.
They hurriedly layered on clothes, ready to go.
Rohan's group left the mansion for the bustling shopping district.
Relief washed over him—the near-social-death of Academy's Rohan had been averted.
He vowed to properly lift their moods.
“I'm hungry~”
“Oppa didn't even have lunch...”
“Dinner first is fine.”
Sion finished speaking and suddenly hooked her arm through his right, pressing close.
Rohan shot her a what-gives look; she met it with bold confidence.
“Rohan. This isn't weird.”
“...Then?”
“I explained how many annoying guys swarm if we walk around defenseless, right?”
“Ah.”
Rohan nodded in understanding, recalling her past messages.
Sion felt grateful for the first time to be born an elf—the epitome of beauty.
Not just for saying such embarrassing things shamelessly.
But because it gave her even a slight edge in winning Rohan's love.
“O-Oppa... I-I'm scared of strangers too...”
His free left arm went to Clara.
No need to question that one.
Rohan knew her personality and severe shyness.
“If it makes you two comfy, that's how we do it.”
“Heehee, thanks.”
“Thanks, Oppa...”
He wasn't in a position to hear thanks.
Rohan was enjoying this—happy, even.
Ah! Harem? You get it.
To the Rohan who'd lived as a hunter in Korea, it was an unimaginable thrill.
All that was left was to savor the moment.
The piercing stares from all sides? Just envy.
*****
'That was so fun.'
Clara's day had been perfect.
Rohan's gentle care had her melting with happiness.
Plus, a memorable souvenir—joy overload.
'Especially thinking we wouldn't notice...'
Waking up, window escape, swapping to similar clothes—adorable.
That stiff face when he stepped out. She'd nearly burst laughing.
'Rohan Oppa...'
She rolled around on the bed, murmuring his name.
A man with intense charm, yet cute chinks in the armor.
Just thinking of him filled Clara with positive energy.
Swish—
After tumbling forever, Clara rose from bed.
Approached the desk, pulled out a locked box from below.
Click! Unlocked and open.
Vials of various sizes, each with different liquids.
Elite assassin training meant she handled famous poisons, stored in assorted volumes.
Blade and gun oils too, all here.
“...”
Not for weapons or poison now.
Different purpose.
She fished out a hidden smaller box from the bottom.
Checked it every ten minutes or so. Knew she should stop, but hands wouldn't obey.
Box within a box.
A prize from topping the assassination exam during her Zeño spy training.
Back then, no joy in it. Now, owning it thrilled her.
'Wonder what Sis did with hers.'
Right after it happened, Clara had scoured online medical texts.
Today's sticky prize, preserved with cryoprotectant and frozen at precise temps, lasted ages.
Tricky conditions, but doable for her.
Palm-sized box scanned her fingerprint—click! Unlocked.
Peak tech.
Artifact blending mana and science to keep tiny liquid volumes fresh and safe.
Inside: a small vial, holding Clara's treasure.
No rare deadly poison. No instant-wound-heal potion.
Nothing like that caught a girl's eye.
“Hee hee hum~”
She lifted the thumb-sized vial, inspecting. White, sticky liquid inside.
Humming, she checked the sticker.
Today's date, a heart drawn on.
'Ah... so happy...'
Not planning use—just a memento for now.
“Hehe...”
Recalling that moment, her eyes curved into crescents, lips smiling.
Cheeks flushed deep.
Skin still held that unique heat and thick scent—shivers.
Ruined clothes? Stripped and stored, unwashed.
No washer running, so Sion too—Clara was sure.
That night, the girls retreated to their rooms.
Sion and Clara didn't seek each other.
..
..
Days flowed by like that.
Rohan's group shot at the mansion's indoor range, trained together, passed time.
Break ended—academy return day dawned.