CHAPTER 210: SCREAMED

The thought should’ve made him wary—should’ve screamed caution, especially with the lingering fear of the spirit’s glowing pink eyes appearing post-ritual, draining him in front of his teacher.

He clenched his fist once, nails biting into his palm, grounding himself against the flicker of unease.

But Silvia was here, her white jacket straining across her chest, her skirt hugging her hips, her nervous energy radiating like heat.

Her presence dulled his fears, replacing them with a different kind of tension, one that coiled low in his stomach and made his cock twitch.

"Miss Silvia. Why did you come?" he asked, keeping his voice steady, casual, as he gestured for her to sit on the edge of his bed.

He moved with ease, leaning against his desk, though his pulse betrayed the calm he projected.

Silvia sat, her movements precise as she smoothed her skirt against her thighs, the fabric pulling taut over her curves.

Her glasses slipped slightly, and she pushed them up with a slender finger, the gesture almost reflexive.

Her cheeks were already pink, a soft flush that spread to the tips of her ears.

"I..." She hesitated, her hazel eyes flicking to the locked door, then back to him, lingering just a moment too long.

Her voice was softer now, threaded with embarrassment. "I wanted... the Guiding Light’s help again."

Lor’s throat tightened, a rush of heat surging through him.

He knew exactly where this was going.

He could still feel the weight of her breasts, the warmth of her skin, the soft gasp she’d let slip last time.

But what if the Light demanded more this time?

What if it pushed them further, deeper into her?

He shoved the thought aside, forcing himself to stay grounded.

"Guidance with what?" he asked, tilting his head, his tone light but probing. "You’re already teaching the class fine."

Her eyes darted away, the flush on her cheeks deepening as she twisted a strand of auburn hair between her fingers, a nervous habit that made her look younger, more vulnerable.

"I... I think I’d rather... tell the Light directly," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves were too heavy to speak aloud.

That answer sent a fresh jolt through him, his cock stirring again at the implication.

She was too embarrassed to voice it to him, but to the Guiding Light?

That, she could confess, as if the ritual’s mysticism gave her permission to bare her desires.

"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, his voice calm despite the storm brewing inside him. "Then let’s do it."

They shifted to the rug, kneeling across from each other, their knees brushing faintly in the cramped space.

Lor set a silver coin between them, its polished surface catching the lamplight like a tiny beacon.

He steadied his breath, letting the familiar rhythm of the ritual take over, and closed his eyes.

The world seemed to narrow, the air growing heavier, charged with anticipation.

When he opened his eyes again, they glowed—an unearthly, luminescent hazel that seemed to pulse with the Light’s power.

The coin rose, weightless, hovering between them, spinning slowly in the air.

His voice deepened, resonant, carrying that strange, otherworldly cadence that felt both like him and not. "What guidance do you seek, child?"

"What guidance do you seek, child?"

Silvia flinched slightly at the sound, her chest rising faster beneath the straining fabric of her jacket.

Her fingers fidgeted, her glasses slipping again as she pushed them up, her thighs pressing together in a subtle, unconscious motion.

Her hazel eyes locked onto the hovering coin, wide and nervous, as if it held all the answers she was too afraid to voice.

Seconds stretched, the silence thick with anticipation.

Her lips parted once, closed again, the tips of her ears now a vivid red.

She swallowed hard, her hands twisting the fabric of her skirt until the hem rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of pale thigh.

Finally, haltingly, she spoke, her voice trembling like a confession she’d never meant to make aloud.

"I... I have been... frustrated for a while." The words spilled out, fragile and raw, secrets she’d kept locked away.

"And my favorite student—" Her gaze darted up to him, burning with a mix of embarrassment and hunger, her cheeks flushed high. "—is all I can think of."

Her hands tightened on her skirt, knuckles whitening as she swallowed again, her voice cracking with a heat she couldn’t suppress.

"There’s a... a fire inside me. A need. The tournament’s nearby, and I can’t focus no matter how much I try. I want..." She faltered, her breath catching, her eyes glistening with a mix of shame and desperation.

Then, in a whisper so soft it was almost a curse, she let the rest slip out.

"...I want him to do me. Rough." Her voice trembled as she pushed forward, the words tumbling out faster now.

"I need guidance helping me how to get that, how do I ask him, how do I ask him and he agrees."

The coin trembled in the air, its surface reflecting the vivid blush on her cheekbones, the lamplight casting soft shadows across her face.

Lor sat perfectly still, his glowing eyes fixed on her, unblinking, but inside, his chest pounded like war drums, his mind racing with the weight of her confession.

His mouth went dry, the words echoing in his mind like a thunderclap he hadn’t seen coming.

What the actual fuck.

Of all the answers he’d imagined when he lifted that coin—some vague plea for academic insight, maybe a guidance for better optimized lesson plans—that wasn’t it.

He’d pictured having to coax Silvia down step by step, wearing her down with little rituals and sly excuses until she finally caved under the weight of the later rituals involving more explicit actions.

But this?

Her blurting out her craving for him, raw and unpolished, without a shred of her usual composure?

It shook him to his core, a jolt that sent his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.