CHAPTER 209: SIGHED

"Maybe there isn’t a perfect angle," Lor sighed, scratching the back of his head, his fingers catching in his messy hair. "Not yet."

"Then we’ll make one," Kiara said with unshakable confidence, stopping at the gate.

She turned to face him, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his heart skip.

Before he could react, she tugged at his belt again, pulling him close until their bodies were nearly flush, her icy gaze boring into his. "We always do."

Lor’s throat went dry, his pulse hammering as her proximity sent a familiar heat coursing through him.

He wanted to kiss her right there, to pull her against him and let the world fade away, but the shadow of his mother moving behind the lit window stopped him cold.

Kiara noticed, her smirk softening into something almost tender, but no less dangerous.

She let go of his belt, her fingers dragging slowly across the leather, the tease making his cock twitch despite his best efforts to stay composed.

"Next time," she whispered, her voice a sultry promise that lingered in the air as she turned and walked away, her hips swaying with a deliberate rhythm that she knew would keep his eyes glued to her until she vanished into the lamplight.

Lor exhaled sharply, steadying himself before pushing open the gate.

The familiar warmth of home enveloped him as he stepped inside—the faint, comforting aroma of brewed tea, the soft glow of lamps casting long shadows across the wooden floor, the low hum of voices from deeper within.

"Mom I’m back," he called, kicking off his shoes with a lazy motion as he stepped into the entryway, the day’s weight settling over him like a second skin.

"In here, Lor," Mira’s voice sang out from the dining room, bright and warm as always.

Lor walked in—and froze, his bag slipping slightly in his grip.

Seated at the dining table, a delicate teacup cradled in her hands, was Miss Silvia.

Her auburn hair glowed under the lamplight, a few loose strands escaping the neat bun she usually wore at the academy, giving her a softer, more approachable look.

Her glasses sat slightly askew on her nose, as if she’d adjusted them one too many times in nervous habit.

The white jacket she wore as a badge of authority strained subtly against her bust as she leaned forward, the buttons pulling just enough to hint at the curves beneath.

Her pencil skirt hugged her hips, riding up slightly where she sat, revealing a sliver of thigh that seemed out of place in the cozy domesticity of Lor’s dining room.

Out of the academy’s sterile halls, here in his home, she looked... different.

Less like the stern teacher and more like a woman, vulnerable and human in a way that made Lor’s pulse quicken unexpectedly.

Her real self.

"Oh—Lor," Mira said brightly, bustling over with the teapot, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air. "Miss Silvia came to personally tutor you today. Isn’t that wonderful?"

"Tut—tutor?" Lor repeated, his voice cracking faintly, betraying the swirl of thoughts in his head.

Silvia fumbled slightly, her fingers tightening around the teacup as she adjusted her glasses, nearly spilling the tea in the process.

"Y-Yes, well—I... ah—" She cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing a faint pink as she fought to regain her composure.

"You’ve been absent from class a little too often. With the interclass tournament the day after tomorrow, I thought it best to give you some... direct help."

Her voice was professional, but there was a slight tremor in it, and her hazel eyes darted toward him behind her lenses, lingering just a moment too long with an intensity that wasn’t entirely teacherly.

Lor swallowed hard, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

"R-right. Prepared." His mind raced, caught between the memory of fucking Olivia, Kiara’s kiss, the weight of Ameth’s coins, and the unexpected presence of Silvia in his home.

What the hell is happening today?

Silvia offered a small, awkward wave, her fingers fluttering as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

"You don’t mind, do you?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant, and the way her jacket strained as she sat straighter only drew his attention further.

Mira beamed, completely unaware of the undercurrent crackling between them.

"Of course he doesn’t! He needs all the help he can get." She set a plate of almond cookies down in front of Silvia, who reached for one and nearly knocked her glasses off in the process, her flush deepening as she fumbled to catch them.

Lor sat slowly, his bag thumping against the floor as he lowered it, the clink of Ameth’s coins muffled but unmistakable in his ears.

Across the table, Silvia pushed her glasses back into place, her fingers trembling slightly, and offered him a faint, nervous smile that carried more weight than it should have.

This was going to be... complicated, messy, hot?

His mind flickered back to Kiara’s teasing words—"I think your teacher wants to be your next ritual."—and he fought the urge to laugh, or maybe groan, at the absurdity of it all.

.

The soft click of the door as Lor locked it seemed to seal the room into a bubble of quiet intensity, the faint murmurs from Mira’s clattering in the kitchen downstairs barely penetrating the thick silence.

His room was a mess—half-folded clothes strewn across a chair, stacks of parchment teetering on his desk, the faint scent of his sheets mingling with the lived-in warmth of the space.

It was his domain, chaotic and personal, and Miss Silvia looked distinctly out of place in it, her prim posture clashing with the disarray.

Her auburn hair caught the lamplight in soft, fiery strands, her glasses glinting as she smoothed her pencil skirt with care, as if the act could anchor her in this unfamiliar territory.

Lor’s chest thudded, his pulse a heavy rhythm against his ribs.

The memory hit him like a rogue wave, the last time she’d been here, in this very room, her cheeks flushed, her full breasts pressed tight around his cock as she slid them up and down.