The Day After My Childhood Friend Got Way Too Horny
On the way back to the academy the next day, my head throbbed the whole time. Having to face the girl whose arranged marriage with me had just gone official.
"This is really troublesome."
The words slipped out on their own. Of course, what was done was done. If I ran into Lena, I'd smooth things over somehow. That was the plan I'd steeled myself for.
And right on cue, I spotted her down the hallway.
"Hey? Lena. Perfect timi—"
—She flinched at the sight of me, half-hiding her face behind the book she was holding, and whipped around in the opposite direction.
What the hell. Our eyes definitely met just now, right? Why are you running away?
I stared at Lena's retreating back with a dumbfounded look.
...Nah, must be my imagination?
That's what I thought, but no. The second time we crossed paths, it was even more blatant. She straight-up used her friend as a shield to hide behind, then crab-walked away to put distance between us.
Hey. Do you owe me money or something? Why are you dodging me like I'm your debt-collecting dad?
"...This is bad."
The marriage was one thing, but the printing press was crucial too. I was supposed to crank it out today, hand it off to the distributors, and by the time it sold out, dive into the main storyline. That was the plan.
I'd gone through hell to snag that printing press, hoarded a mountain of paper in secret, even lined up an earth mage (probably)!
"......"
Erotic doujinshi was the most important part of my life here. It couldn't fall apart over some stupid arranged marriage.
I'll catch her.
With that resolve, I finally cornered Lena at the back stairs of the Art Department building.
"Lena."
"Eek!"
"Why jump like that when you see someone? Why are you avoiding me all day?"
"N-no. When did I—"
"Just now. You're still trying to slip away."
Lena, who had been inching her feet back, suddenly clapped her legs together with a smack. She awkwardly averted her gaze like that, her ear tips turning red.
She definitely heard about the marriage talk, huh?
Man, it kinda stung. Sure, nobody wants to marry me, but ghosting me completely? Come on.
Well... I guess I get why she'd hate it that much.
I cleared my throat.
"Let's talk."
"Huh?"
Lena flinched and shot back.
"Wh-what about? I'm not in the mood to chat today."
Hmm. Bringing up the marriage here might get me kicked down the stairs. Hell, that might even be the best-case scenario.
"You hate it that much?"
"Wh-what are you saying I hate? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Fine. We'll talk about that later."
This wasn't just dislike; she was putting her all into hating it. Fair enough. Even best friends get awkward after a sudden confession out of nowhere. But this wasn't even a confession—it was marriage.
......
This was serious. What if she bails on helping with the printing press too?
Lena glanced at me nervously, then pretended to be casual.
"A-anyway, don't we need to run the printing press?"
As expected of Lena. I knew I could count on her.
I nodded immediately. No time for second thoughts.
"Wait for me at that warehouse I told you about. I'll grab the paper. It's stashed away."
"Huh?"
As I turned to go, a small voice came from behind after a brief hesitation.
"...O-okay. I'll wait."
Lena knew she was acting weird. It was true that seeing Ian pissed her off. But this irritation wasn't like the old days.
Back then, it was more like, "Why's this guy such an idiot?" Now it was closer to, "Why's this guy acting like nothing happened?"
The problem was, the latter drove her way crazier.
"Move aside."
Ian strode into the warehouse, effortlessly hoisting a massive stack of paper bundles that looked heavy as hell at a glance.
Lena's eyes went wide.
"Since when did you get so strong?"
"Huh?"
Ian looked genuinely puzzled instead.
"This much? Any guy can do it, right?"
No. Absolutely not. At least, not the Ian Ashy she knew.
The old Ian would flop onto the sofa complaining if he had to lift a couple books. But now? He was rolling up his shirt sleeves, veins bulging on his forearms as he briskly moved the paper stacks.
Lena's gaze kept drifting to those arms. The taut muscles. The subtle flex of tendons on the back of his hands as he supported the load.
"...Gulp."
She swallowed without thinking and squeezed her eyes shut.
No. No way. What am I even looking at right now?
When she opened her eyes again, she tried to look away, but damn it, her eyes kept sliding back to Ian's arms. They twitched and rippled with every move, veins popping naturally.
"......"
Ha, what if I just grabbed them once?
Right then—
Ian suddenly turned his head.
"What?"
"Uh, huh?"
"Something on my arm? Why are you staring like that?"
"N-no no no no?!"
Lena flailed her hands wildly.
"Nothing's on it! Totally! Not a speck! Super clean!"
"Then why the stare?"
"I wasn't staring!"
"You were, just now."
"Your imagination!"
Her ears burned crimson in seconds. Ian furrowed his brow slightly.
—What's her deal?
His expression was blatantly obvious. Unable to bear the look, Lena whipped around toward the printing press.
The hulking iron machine sitting there felt like a savior today.
"A-anyway! H-how do we run this thing?"
She pointed needlessly at the Rune Press. The massive mana-powered beast looked insanely complex just to look at—metal frames, engraved spell circuits, rollers, mana conduits all tangled up. Touch it wrong as a newbie, and it'd probably explode.
"...Looks super hard?"
Honestly, if someone told her to fire it up, she'd confidently wreck it spectacularly. Magic engineering machines were kinda scary anyway. She couldn't wrap her head around how they worked.
"Oh, I came prepared."
Ian casually pulled a book from his pocket. Worn leather cover, library stamp—a manual for the printing press.
Lena blinked.
"...Wh-when did you get so prepared?"
Her quiet mutter of admiration luckily went unheard. Ian was already flipping through the manual with one hand while checking the side lever with the other.
It looked weirdly natural. One hand on the machine, one on the book. Calm gaze, precise movements without a wasted motion.
"...Ngh."
Lena swallowed again without realizing.
What the hell is that pose? Handling some machine I'll never understand so coolly. Isn't that basically flirting?
No, of course Ian Ashy wouldn't pose like that to seduce anyone. The guy had zero finesse for romance—his artistic talents only went into weird pervy comics!
But the problem was, he seemed oblivious, yet she couldn't stop looking. And that pissed her off even more.
"...I'm losing it, for real."
Lena muttered to herself and ducked her head. Her cheeks kept heating up. Her heart raced for no reason.
What is this feeling? Why does he keep sticking in my head, my face gets hot, my heart pounds like this?
M-maybe it's that stupid marriage rumor messing with me. Otherwise... do I actually li-like him? Like, like him...?
That was the moment.
"Lena."
"Eek!"
She jolted up, and Ian was right in her face somehow. His body heat hit her like a wave.
"Lena. You okay? I called you, but no answer."
Thump— Her heart dropped like a stone, pounding huge.
Ian narrowed his eyes.
"Hey. Your face is red. You got a fever?"
And super casually, he reached out and pressed his hand to her forehead.
His hand was big. Bigger than she'd thought. And like an artist's, the fingertips were a bit rough—not the soft noble boy hands, but callused from paper and pens. More manly.
Lena's face boiled like a kettle about to burst.
"......!"
Thump-thump-thump-thump. Her chest hammered like someone was beating a drum inside.
This is bad. Really bad.
"Th-that's enough...!"
"Huh?"
"J-just stop. No. No no no."
"What's wrong?"
"C-can you back off a sec?"
The words tumbled out. If he stayed that close, her heart might actually explode.
Ian paused, then stepped back with a genuinely sorry look.
"Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to touch you out of nowhere."
That expression made her heart lurch again. It wasn't that bad. If anything...
"Ah, aaaah."
No. Thinking more would be disaster.
Lena clapped her hands over her burning cheeks and shook her head furiously.
"Gonna wash my face!"
No time for proper goodbyes. She bolted out of the warehouse like she was fleeing.
"...Was it that shocking?"
Lena's state was worse than I'd thought. She must've heard the marriage rumors too—no other explanation for her stuttering and discomfort.
"Tch."
She's avoiding me so hard it's making my mana surge. I get it, swapping perspectives. If the family elders suddenly said, "Marry your least crush-worthy childhood friend," I'd puke too.
Still, coming here to help me despite that? Good kid.
"Feel kinda bad now."
I scratched my nose awkwardly and glanced around.
The warehouse was dead silent with Lena gone.
...If my guess is right.
Somewhere in here was the second pair of hands needed to run the press. And with Lena away...
Perfect timing to greet her.
I closed the manual and spoke casually.
"Mind not eavesdropping and coming out?"
Silence hung for a moment. No reaction anywhere.
Hmm. If nothing happened, I'd look like a chuuni muttering to thin air. Truth is, I had zero proof or traces the princess was here.
Just two clues: she'd overheard me and Lena, and her passion for magic tools. That was enough for a near-certain hunch.
So I trusted my hunch. Worst case, no one's watching, no embarrassment.
I struck a dramatic pose and muttered.
"Hiding longer will be a problem, Your Highness."
Finally. A rustle from the cleaning supply closet in the corner.
The door creaked open at an undignified angle. Broom clattered. Mop thumped once. Bucket rolled with a rumble.
And out stepped the golden-haired princess, slow and steady.
"...How long have you known, Ian Ashy?"
Her eyes brimmed with wariness.