Who Is the Partner? 1
Maybe it was because she'd just come from washing up, but a pleasant fragrance wafted from Karen's body. Even without trying to notice, Netoru could feel the air in the room softening subtly.
"Hm."
Amusing. Propping his chin on his hand, Netoru stared intently at Karen on his bed. There was nothing like sleep to melt away tension. That was why she seemed so utterly defenseless right now. Her jet-black hair, smooth as ebony, spilled across the bedsheets, and glimpses of her pale skin peeked through her disheveled clothes. The faint moisture lingering on her skin made her look even more youthful than usual.
...Looks like she came over because of the Overheat. She must've gotten tired waiting and fallen asleep. When Overheat hit, it was hard to keep a clear head.
"What to do with this one."
Honestly, letting her sleep it off soundly would be the best option. Sleep was the standard recovery method for Overheat, after all. Female pilots didn't writhe around for no reason in that state. Plus, her so-called "treatment" was something she relied on too heavily anyway—it wasn't healthy. The human body was a cunning thing. Chase comfort too much, and before you knew it, you'd be addicted.
But in a way, that was exactly what Netoru was aiming for. Whether she wanted it or not, he'd already marked her as his coupling partner. The more dependent she got on him, the better for Netoru. In fact, he planned to make it that way.
Maybe because she was sleeping so deeply, she didn't stir even when he brushed her hair aside. Pinching her cheek got no reaction either. It tempted him to play some meaner pranks. Like finding a living, breathing doll.
Leave her be, and she might sleep straight through till morning, oblivious to what happened to her body in the meantime.
As he stroked her hair and traced her jawline, Netoru's fingers slid down her shoulder to her collarbone. The soft, yielding skin delighted his fingertips. Just as he reached her chest, savoring the sensation—
Netoru stopped his hand and pulled it away slowly, without hesitation.
Truth be told, any man would feel a surge of desire here. She was asleep; she'd never know if he touched her. But where was the fun in that?
Netoru wanted more than simple physical satisfaction. Coupling was about emotional exchange between man and woman, and since he'd chosen her as a partner, he needed to treat her right.
Female pilots were fragile things. Delicate and brittle like glasswork that could shatter at any moment. Better to handle them gently.
He couldn't risk rushing things and repeating the mess from his old unit. Times weren't leisurely anymore. He needed a proper partner soon.
And he couldn't have his carefully chosen one breaking down like before. Netoru liked Karen's personality—and her body—a lot. Plus, she was young. Girls like her were rare. A blank canvas of a girl.
"Mm..."
Did she even realize the danger she'd just been in? As sweet breaths escaped her lips amid the cold sweat from her fever, Netoru chuckled softly.
After some decent eye candy, it was time to wake her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.
"Wake up, Karen."
Of course, deep sleep made her reaction sluggish. But after a few shakes, she stirred.
"How long you gonna sleep in my room?"
"...Huh?"
Finally, Karen's eyes fluttered open. Her unfocused black pupils stared blankly at Netoru. That innocent, hazy expression was quite the sight.
Netoru plucked a stray lock of black hair from the corner of her mouth.
"...?"
She accepted the touch docilely, but her eyes began wandering the room. Then, as realization dawned, her dark pupils slowly widened.
How to describe it?
"Ah... Huh? W-wait... What is this...?"
You see it in anime sometimes, right? The heroine realizes the situation, blushes in embarrassment, and lets out a pathetic little scream at the end...
Karen was exactly that. Or about to be.
Netoru swiftly clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Shh. No screaming. You wanna let the whole unit know about us?"
"Mmph!"
If she yelled now and someone overheard, it'd be trouble. In this world, a man and woman sharing a room wasn't a big deal. Hell, they encouraged sex. No issue with a healthy relationship.
Yeah, a healthy one.
But Karen hadn't hit her birthday yet. She was still a minor. Regrettably.
So she wasn't "healthy" yet.
"Mmmph...!"
"Hey, no biting. That hurts."
Feeling a bit of her saliva, Netoru removed his hand. Her black eyes, still shaking, glared daggers as she yelled.
"W-what 'us'? Don't say stuff people might misunderstand!"
That was her concern? Netoru just shrugged.
Wasn't exactly wrong, though. What doctor treated patients this diligently?
"Ugh, that smug face again!"
Apparently his attitude pissed her off. Her face flushed, she trembled—then bolted upright and dashed to the bathroom in the corner.
Netoru chuckled at her retreating back, then straightened the rumpled sheets. She'd lain there a while; her scent clung heavily to the bed. Not unpleasant to a guy, honestly.
2.
The personal rooms in the barracks assigned to Holy Knight pilots were generally clean and luxurious. Spacious, with private bathrooms equipped for basic washing. They had to be on standby for immediate sortie whenever the commander spotted bugs, so the stress was immense. No skimping on rest spaces.
Rumors said the real reason was headquarters' consideration for male-female relations. Holy Knight pilots weren't just allowed such relations—they were encouraged.
Hence, private bathrooms in every room were essential.
"Haa..."
Karen stood before the bathroom mirror and let out a deep sigh. Her current situation was too embarrassing and bewildering.
"...I'm insane. Karen... why do you keep making these weird mistakes every Overheat...?"
She dry-washed her face, berating her defenseless self. Imagining that guy just watching her sleep made her face burn like crazy.
She hadn't planned to sleep in his room, obviously. She'd meant to wait quietly, get treated when he returned, and leave.
But washing in the bath left her languid, and the Overheat heat rising from her lower abdomen to her head brought overwhelming drowsiness. Irresistible, like violence.
And unexpectedly, his room felt so relaxing—cleaner than expected. No musty guy smell, well-organized. Compared to Natsuo's childish mess, it was night and day.
Plus, the bookshelf crammed with thick specialist books gave it an adult vibe.
Of course... considering his age, he was an adult, but...
"...He didn't do anything weird to me, right?"
Karen checked her body in the mirror. No real suspicion, but he wasn't exactly wholesome, so...
Running her hands over her clothes and body, nothing suspicious turned up. Good.
But the problem was—
"My hair. It's a mess..."
Had she lain down before it dried? Her hair was frizzy. Sighing again, she smoothed it out. His comb was by the sink, but borrowing it was a no-go, so she dampened her fingers and tamed the strands.
Finally, she straightened her sleep-rumpled clothes and gripped the doorknob to exit.
"..."
She froze, pondering. What to say first? Sorry for crashing on your bed uninvited? Or just brazenly ask for treatment?
Didn't take long. Apologize first. Her mistake, however embarrassing.
Decision made, she stepped out—and an unexpected scene unfolded.
"...?"
Had she taken too long? Netoru sat at his desk, scribbling seriously in a notebook like he'd found something to do.
His rare earnest vibe made Karen approach quietly.
Standing behind him, she peeked over his shoulder to see what he was writing so intently.
And tilted her head.
...What language is that?
Whatever Netoru was jotting down was some unfamiliar script Karen couldn't identify. Weird, since all kingdoms used the same writing regardless of race. Ancient tongue? How would he know it?
Unable to hold back, she asked casually.
"Netoru, what're you writing so seriously?"
"Dunno. Secret."
"...What?"
With a snap, he closed the notebook and stashed it in a drawer, even locking it. So secretive.
It only piqued her curiosity more. Mysterious script, and that intense focus—what was it?
But he clearly wasn't telling.
Standing, Netoru said,
"Shall we start?"
"...Yeah."
He gazed at her as if seeking permission; she nodded. Unconsciously, her hands fidgeted, aware of his approaching from behind.
His touch felt natural now, no longer strange—skillful, even.
And the position of his hands on her waist felt... gentle. Ticklish yet not unpleasant. A little lower, and she'd swat him away—but this spot was psychologically reassuring.
She hadn't noticed before, but now she got it. This was the touch of a guy who'd been with plenty of women...
Then—
*Smack*
As if reading her thoughts, she felt lips press against hers. Her waist pulled in, lips parting. Karen accepted his tongue without resistance.
Now familiar, their tongues entwined naturally. Sticky saliva threads stretched between their lips, hot breaths mingling over their faces.
Sometime ago, his hands had slid lower from her waist—but too engrossed in the Mana Path connecting them, she paid it no mind.
Soon, she felt the heat rising in her body subside. Refreshing. Her tormented lower abdomen eased.
Maybe that's why. Her idle hands moved, embracing his neck, drawing him closer—craving more treatment.
Instinct to restore bodily calm.
Yeah, this is just treatment...
She hammered that into her mind—
—Netoru. Are you in there?
"...!?"
Someone knocked. Karen froze in shock at the voice.
What? Why is Seres here all of a sudden?
As if demanding answers, she slowly pushed his chest with both hands, rolling only her eyes up at him.
Their gazes met; Netoru grinned awkwardly.
"Oops. Forgot Seres was coming."
True or not, it was his usual brazen tone.
In normal times, it'd annoy her—but now, her mind went blank white.
This was a crisis.