Chapter 216: Mary Sue Notices the Door, Tends to Senpai in Her Room – An Epic Scene Unfolds (2)

Even she didn’t know why she trusted him so much.

She trusted him.

That’s why, before completely losing her mind, she made the call to him.

Hearing Shia’s voice now, Sistine could sense the mix of worry and reprimand in his tone.

She felt guilty and ashamed, lowering her head like a child who had been caught making a mistake.

She… hadn’t expected things to turn out like this.

All she’d wanted was to test her willpower and, while her senses were heightened, try to uncover the next step to breaking through her swordsmanship plateau.

But now, none of that mattered.

What had happened had spiraled out of control, reaching the worst-case scenario.

And she couldn’t fix it herself.

Shia found the situation truly vexing.

If she had only inhaled a small amount of the pink mist, it wouldn’t have been this bad—there were ways to remedy it.

But what truly worried him was that she’d been practicing her sword techniques during this time.

The intense effects of the mist had seeped into her body, circulating deeply through her open meridians. It wasn’t just superficial—it had reached her very core.

Extracting it now would be nearly impossible.

She really was a troublesome senpai, completely neglecting her own well-being.

Shia placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, his expression serious.

This pink mist wasn’t an ordinary substance.

It was a potent, relic-based toxin whose effects far surpassed any aphrodisiac on the market.

It was already hard enough to counteract, but now that it had taken root so deeply, conventional methods wouldn’t work.

There was only one way left.

Shia’s grip on Sistine’s shoulders tightened slightly, and the small jolt of pain brought her a fleeting moment of clarity. She managed to catch his words.

“Senpai, listen to me carefully now. You need to understand what I’m about to say.”

Her eyes remained unfocused, but his voice reached through the haze to her ears.

She nodded stiffly.

Yes, she was listening—she could hear him.

But deep down, she felt a pang of sadness and a tinge of grievance.

Why was he talking instead of helping her when she was feeling so awful?

Her body was on fire, like a raging inferno that threatened to consume her entirely.

She felt sticky, constrained, and utterly uncomfortable.

She wanted to tear off all her bindings, to lean against him and feel the rare, soothing coolness he exuded.

Sistine believed she was still in control, but to Shia, her exaggerated nodding was alarming, as if she might snap her neck at any moment.

“This pink mist’s effects are too strong and have reached deep into your core. Conventional methods won’t work anymore.”

“The only way to save you now might involve… methods that are not exactly child-friendly.”

“I promise I’ll be as respectful as possible, senpai. I’ll handle it with care, and I hope you can understand.”

“This is the only solution left.”

Shia spoke slowly and patiently, aware that her mind was dulled by the mist’s influence. He needed to give her time to process his words.

The only way to save her was to release the mist’s effects from her body—otherwise, the consequences would be unimaginable.

Shia had no intention of taking advantage of her vulnerability.

His plan was simply to help her through… by hand.

But!

Hearing his explanation, Sistine’s face changed. Her forehead beaded with sweat as her expression shifted to one of displeasure.

She reached out weakly, trying to push him away, but her body refused to cooperate. It was a pitiful attempt, more like a gesture of yielding than resistance.

Her face, flushed with a mix of anger and sadness, twisted into a sorrowful expression.

Despite being the revered Sword Saint, she now looked as pitiful as a lost puppy.

Failing to push Shia away, she instead clutched at his shirt.

Her grip lacked strength, but her large, watery eyes brimmed with grief and accusation.

She looked both enchanting and pitiful, an alluring blend of vulnerability and charm.

Her mind was a foggy mess.

All she could sense was the pleasant scent emanating from the boy in front of her.

Her body, burning like molten iron, was drawn to him as if he were a magnet. She couldn’t help but lean closer, seeking the cool relief his presence provided.

Though she was briefly lucid enough to hear his explanation, her eyes now shimmered with despair and disappointment.

She lifted her hand, intending to touch her covered eyes. A familiar sense of rejection resurfaced, pulling her thoughts back to that night by the creek.

He’d seen it.

Even though he’d said it didn’t matter…

It obviously did.

Otherwise, why would he say such things now?

“You really do think less of me, don’t you?”

A dull thud echoed as her hand slammed against the wooden floor.

Shia was startled again.

He had been “pinned” once more—this time not against a wall, but against the floor.

Sistine’s stunning face was right in front of his, her flawless features—delicate cheeks, a pert nose, and soft, cherry-red lips—clear in the dim light.

Her silk blindfold obscured her eyes, but Shia knew what lay beneath it.

Half her body pressed against his, her supple figure practically glued to him, radiating the unmistakable charm of a woman.

Her golden hair cascaded down, brushing against his face.

Under the influence of the mist, she exuded a side of herself she had never shown before—a vulnerable, feminine allure that was entirely out of character for the proud Sword Saint.

Sistine’s brow furrowed slightly, her expression tinged with dissatisfaction.

“Am I not considered the academy’s goddess? Does none of this move you at all, Shia?”

Her warm breath carried a hint of moisture, and her intoxicating scent filled the air.

She clearly didn’t grasp the gentleness behind Shia’s restraint.

All she saw was his rejection.

Did he not see her as a woman?

He was holding back? Why?

Was it because she wasn’t attractive enough?

Or was it because he despised her?