Chapter 11

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Translator: Ebonarch

Chapter: 11

Chapter Title: 100 Days Later: Taming the Gloomy Girl (4)

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"...This is really fucking slow to level up."

Even so, my month of back-breaking training wasn't entirely pointless—my Strength went up by 1.

I wish my Stamina had risen alongside it, but this shitty game isn't about to make things that easy.

Loreos had started to realize that I wasn't hiding any talent; I just straight-up didn't have any. He seemed a bit disappointed.

What can you do?

I really have no talent.

Another change in my status window was a new skill.

Shaaak!

Something akin to the thin blades I'd made with telekinesis shot down the empty hallway.

Being low-tier magic, it dispersed about halfway down the corridor, but at close range, it had more than enough power to cleave off a head.

This time, I formed a blade with telekinesis and clashed it against the wind blade.

Ssaak!

The telekinesis blade smoothly sliced the wind blade in half.

Heh, a smile crept onto my face.

It couldn't pierce mid-tier magic yet, but low-tier? It tore through them like paper.

'...What good is any of this?'

A sudden wave of emptiness washed over me.

Mid-tier magic users were rare in Class 5, but in Class 1, they were a dime a dozen—harder to find someone who couldn't use it.

I'd initially gotten greedy and picked the mid-tier elemental magic [Rending Wind Blade], but after just three casts, my mana hit rock bottom, so I scrapped it.

For reference, changing skills took a full week cooldown.

I'd thought I could exploit it by swapping endlessly without cooldown, but nope—they'd patched that loophole tight.

I closed the status window and stood before the door.

The classroom, a bit earlier than usual.

I quietly opened the lecture hall door and peered inside. There was Vivian, intently writing her letter.

Different from her usual anxious wait for my arrival.

Not that I was disappointed.

It was all part of my plan.

Whip and carrot.

Over the past month, I'd ordered Lucia to deliberately isolate Vivian.

No outright violence yet, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but she'd dealt with trash stuffed in her bag or shoulders bumped in passing.

Each time, Vivian leaned even harder on me, her one and only friend.

But whenever she got too clingy, I'd pull back, only to comfort her sweetly via letter and rebuild trust.

Once she started obsessing over the letters, I'd abruptly stop replying, leaving her desperate.

Today, after days of radio silence, I'd sent a letter right before her commute.

One she couldn't bear to give up—neither reading it nor seeing me.

She must've agonized over it.

Read it in her room, or come early to meet me?

Unable to abandon either, Vivian had shown up to class with the letter in hand.

'Sneaking peeks is one thing, but writing replies? Way too exposed.'

What if someone else caught the contents?

Seriously.

I really didn't want to do this.

But I couldn't let the plan derail, so I'd have to scare her a little.

I crept up silently behind her back.

Then leaned in close to the engrossed Vivian and spoke abruptly.

"What're you doing?"

"...Ah!"

With a clatter, she frantically hid the letter.

I smirked slyly at her.

"Oh, writing a love letter?"

"No!"

She shouted in fierce denial.

Probably the loudest she'd ever been.

"Sor... sorry..."

Startled by her own outburst, Vivian's eyes went wide as she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"S-sorry for yelling. I just... panicked... Don't get mad."

"..."

How could I get mad over something this trivial when we'd be stuck together for so long?

Truth be told, I wasn't mad at all—quite the opposite. I was thrilled at how I could use this.

"Really, I'm sorry..."

But I kept my expression blank, and Vivian's face crumpled in panic.

"Please... don't hate me..."

I wanted to toy with her more, but she looked on the verge of tears, so I smiled softly.

"I'll forgive you, Vivian. Because it's you."

"Th-thanks..."

"...But no yelling next time, okay?"

"Y-yes! I'll be careful. Really sorry..."

Thinking herself forgiven, her face lit up.

As if she had anything to be forgiven for.

"So, who's the letter for?"

"Ah..."

Vivian would go bust at poker.

She'd assumed I'd drop the letter topic, so dismay flooded her face at the question.

"Can I see it?"

I extended my hand as if it were the most natural thing.

Her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes trembled wildly.

Getting caught with the contents or hated by me—neither was imaginable for her.

But apparently, my hatred scared her more.

After a mental tug-of-war, she placed the letter in my hand, her face drained pale.

"H-here..."

Folded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in half.

I slowly unfolded it, watching her trembling hands and bitten lip.

"Just kidding."

"...Huh?"

I handed it back without a glance.

"No way I'd snoop on your letters."

"...Thanks."

I placed a hand on her slumped shoulder.

"Still, be careful. Others might peek."

She flinched at the touch.

"Y-yeah... I will."

Far from pulling away, she subtly leaned in. I gave her stiff shoulder a light rub.

"Anyway, Vivian, your shoulders are tense."

"R-really?"

"Yeah. Built-up stress? You're kinda rigid like that. How about a little deviance? It'll melt it away."

"...Okay. Thanks for always looking out for me."

Her voice carried a hint of tears.

I replied with a grin.

Thanks now.

You'll thank me even more soon.

Writing letters had become enjoyable.

At first, I'd been scared of who it might be and planned just one reply before quitting.

But the more letters I received, the clearer it became: this person truly cared for and comforted me.

「The early masturbation scene, holed up in your room repeating it after discovering it—super well-described. But it gets awkward later on. Oh, not that the book sucked.」

Still, the latest letter stung a little.

I had no plans to publish again, but hearing my creation felt awkward from this person made me want to show them something better.

'But what can I do...'

The awkward descriptions were inevitable.

Of everything in that book, the only thing I'd actually tried was solo play in my room. Nothing outside.

「If it's meddling, feel free to ignore, but your model seems to need ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠some 'deviance' experience. Imagining and doing are worlds apart.」

'Deviance might be key to relieving stress.'

The word "deviance" in the letter.

Why did Eugene's face overlap with it the instant I read it?

'Deviance...'

I'd thought about trying it plenty of times.

But I'd never actually done it.

Educated that I mustn't.

'...No.'

I knew myself better than anyone.

Once I strayed from the path, there'd be no stopping me.

Lying in bed, even without looking down, my uselessly huge breasts—unlike my sister's—came into view.

Enormous, lewd tits.

Sis had called them cow udders more than once.

I slipped a hand under my clothes and grabbed one, but it overflowed my grasp.

"Umm..."

Why was I so sensitive?

A light touch, and my areola swelled, nipple perking up hard.

'J-just... a little...'

The pleasure I'd bottled up for so long.

"Haa... haa..."

Nearly a year without touching myself—my already sensitive body ignited even hotter.

"Eu...gene..."

For the first time, masturbating to a clear target.

Recalling the feel of his hand on my shoulder as I fondled my breast.

"Haah... more... do more..."

What would Eugene think if he saw me like this?

—Filthy slut.

Imagining him discovering the letters, his cold gaze spitting curses—my body shivered.

Yet I couldn't stop my hand.

"Hup... hmm... hng... haa... Eugene..."

Muffled moans leaked from the pillow over my face.