A Dance with the Suit (1)
"!!"
At dawn, Unia woke from her sleep.
"I, ugh, ahhhh...!"
She pulled the covers over her head, yanked at the blankets wildly, and thumped the bed with her heels.
"!!@#$@#$@#%#^#"
Letting out a silent scream, she buried her face in the pillow. If anyone had seen her, they would've thought she had a fever.
And who could blame her? The dream she'd had was the kind that turned her cheeks burning red.
"I'm crazy, crazy, crazy...!"
To sum up the dream in three lines:
She graduated.
She pounced.
She did it 17 times.
"......."
With a dazed expression, Unia lowered the pillow. Her hand slipped under the covers, heading downward.
"That thing...."
Something she'd never done before. Was it because she'd come to this academy? Was it the reputation of Esdinas Academy as a place where "graduating with at least one guy in tow is the baseline"?
In the dream, Unia—at 20 years old, finally graduating from the academy and becoming a true adult in every sense—had pounced on someone. Even though it was dream-Unia herself, Unia couldn't help but refer to her as someone else.
"That was... me...?"
If that was really her, how could she even describe it? It went way beyond "a bit much."
If that dream-self was her future—
"......."
Unia lowered the pillow for a moment and thought.
"Is there any reason to be embarrassed...?"
No matter how she thought about it, there wasn't.
A dream was just a dream. Even if it showed one possible future, whether she became that version of herself in the next three years depended on how she grew. And even if that dream-self was on a level that put every succubus to shame—hell, even a lustful nine-tailed fox who pioneered mana drain or a Succubus Queen wouldn't dare lift their head—
"......It's just one guy, anyway."
If it was with her lifelong "mate," it wasn't a problem. Quite the opposite—it was ideal. Devoting everything, from start to finish, to one man held profound meaning in so many ways.
But.
"...Phoenix."
The target being her classmate in the same building? That was the biggest reason it embarrassed her.
Her dream-self outdoing a succubus? Not embarrassing.
But that succubus pouncing on him of all people? That made her blush over and over.
And.
"......."
Unia bit her lower lip slowly, holding her breath.
"......!!"
For a brief moment, her body shuddered, her ears turning red.
"...[Silence]."
"Silence"
⟨ Wide-Area Silence Magic ⟩
After that, no sound came from Unia's room.
* * *
Saturday morning.
The first weekend since the semester started.
The good news? Even the academy provided meals on weekend mornings, so I headed straight to the cafeteria after waking up and dug in.
I sat there.
"......."
Completely alone.
There were five of us living in the Old School Building: Unia, Rydmila, Evangeline, Esta, and Cardisha.
I'd figured at least one would come down for breakfast, chat a bit face-to-face. But none of them showed, even as morning dragged on.
That's weird.
Did I come to the wrong place? Nah—the spread in front of me was proof the academy had prepared it for Old School students.
"Hmm...."
All sleeping in? Unia, maybe, but the others—
Ding-a-ling.
The bell on the door jingled.
"Yaaawn."
In shuffled a green-haired woman in a white coat thrown on haphazardly—Instructor Cardisha, dragging her pink bunny slippers.
"Good morning~"
"You up for the day, or here for a midnight snack?"
"If we're talking meals, it's a late-night bite~"
Cardisha, eyes half-lidded, grabbed a bowl like it was routine and piled it high with desserts. They say brainy types crave sugar, but she loaded so much I worried about diabetes.
"You'll gain weight like that."
"Won't~"
"Don't say I didn't warn you—"
"I just burn the calories with mana. Yaaawn."
Cardisha plopped down across from me, her dessert mountain dwarfing my balanced breakfast.
"Meals in the first place... oh."
She slowly widened her eyes and covered her mouth.
"......."
"Your secret's safe."
"You know what I mean? Oh, haha. Don't take my jokes so seriously~"
"I'm using it too."
"!!"
Cardisha nearly jumped from her seat. I quietly pointed around us.
"No one's listening right now, so we can chat freely, yeah?"
"...How'd you figure it out?"
"Built the theory, then tested it."
I held up my index and middle fingers like pinching something.
"Burn solids in your gut with mana, vent the smoke slowly outside. Easy, right?"
"...Blowing it away with wind magic works too. But skip too much absorption and your health tanks, so keep the essentials."
"Aren't you doing that now?"
I pointed to my plate of pure nutrition.
"...True. Sigh, never thought anyone but me used it."
"You didn't drop hints on purpose?"
"No way. Just... super tired lately."
Cardisha scooped a huge forkful of cake.
"Angel chaos, Angelica stuff—tons to research."
"Getting enough sleep?"
"About to. Eat this, crash around noon?"
"Noon?"
"Esta... uh, ahem. ...Keep talking and I'll slip, so your turn, Phoenix."
An adult sleeping till noon on weekends? No secret there.
"What to chat about? That you don't gain weight from all those desserts 'cause it's natural? Or you trick everyone, stockpile with mana decomposition, then purge?"
"Good thing you didn't say 'purge.' Yeah, but not table talk...."
Cardisha slid her hand from throat to belly.
"Call this an 'incinerator' or whatever. Done. Details'd just hurt me, so no more."
She stabbed and devoured a blue-jelly-coated cake chunk.
"Don't spread it, got it? Even if you do, I'll play dumb."
"Got it. Every woman's dream technique."
"Just women? Whole world'd kill for it."
"Consumption triples, food shortages hit, apocalypse."
"Apocalypse, huh. Haha, worse than angels mass-murdering. The Gluttony End."
A twinge of guilt, but I matched her rhythm with my spoon.
"Desserts die first. Angels'd fall tasting Esdinas cake?"
"Hm."
Weekend vibes—time to bait the hook.
"That good?"
"Huh?"
"Food's great overall, but angel-falling good? Bit much."
"Angels the issue, or the food?"
"To make an angel ditch humanity's doom for 'Can't kill these dessert makers'? Needs way better than this."
"...Hey, Phoenix?"
Cardisha grabbed a big cake piece, face serious.
"Rinse your mouth with water, try this?"
"Yes, Instructor."
I opened wide for her fork—ahh to outsiders, but mad scientist data grab knowing her.
Huh.
No one else around? A sly selfishness in her smile.
She'd never ahhed for a guy.
"Delicious. 4.5 stars."
I played it cool, hiding I noticed.
"Right? Cooks here are master chefs. Forget instructors—students got refined tastes."
"Noble kids get guaranteed quality. Commoners eat yearly rarities daily."
"Yeah. Or... buffet dissatisfaction? Unavoidable. Mass production, two-hour hold. Old School's extra transport."
Fair point, straight talk.
Meals cooked in main dorm cafeteria, carted over prepped days ahead.
"Phoenix, think of the cooks before griping. I let it slide; staff'd be heartbroken."
Gentle scolding, spot-on. My bad.
But.
"I get it."
Wrong's wrong; I steered anyway.
"One dish each? Masterpieces. But...."
To shine.
"Compared to my desserts? Eh."
"...Hm?"
Bait dropped.
"What? Pastry master, huh? Better than academy desserts?"
"Desserts, mains too. Fire's my thing."
Meat, bread, villains—roast 'em fine.
"Noted stuff for supplies; adding more."
"Oh, list done?"
"Gotta. For desserts that might make you shiver on first bite."
"......Heh?"
"Enough for whole Old School, anyway."
"Haha, thought it was a date."
"Making desserts for you is a date?"
"If that good? Haha."
"Got it."
Then.
"Apron first—proper one."
Time to flex skills that bloated demon dukes' guts.
Where'd she hear it from? ....
"Might cry eating it?"
I studied desserts abroad, fact.
Based on my skills—not Phoenix or Regiph.
"What's your fave... no, don't say. I'll make it now."
Player knowledge, experience, in-game data—I could recreate every dessert recipe in this world.
"If not for the apocalypse, I'd open a bakery nearby post-grad."