Egawa Mitsuki felt a sudden chill spread from her waist down. When her eyes fluttered open, she discovered Yūto Shō had hiked her skirt up, exposing her milky thighs and the safety shorts hugging her lower body to the open air. Her plump, perfectly sculpted hips curved with the kind of dangerous appeal you'd see on a gravure idol's debut spread.
Yūto Shō swallowed nervously, leaned his face close to the fabric-wrapped territory, and inhaled with the focused intensity of a scent-detective hunting his final clue.
But before he could lock down the exact aroma, Egawa Mitsuki let out a soft cry and scrambled backward. She was balanced on just one foot, and with Yūto Shō's earlier handiwork having reduced her body to jelly, she lost her footing and shrieked as she toppled backward to the floor.
The impact made her wince, but when she pried her eyes open, she found herself sprawled across the tiles with her legs splayed wide, her skirt still bunched up around her waist.
What made it ten times more horrifying was that Yūto Shō was now kneeling between her parted legs. Their positioning resembled a CG straight out of an eroge route, and Yūto Shō lowered his head, slowly leaning toward her exposed lower body.
A fierce wave of shame crashed through her chest. Egawa Mitsuki hurriedly tried to clamp her legs shut, but Yūto Shō caught the movement and raised his hand to smack the inside of her thigh: "Don't move."
Smack.
The soft flesh of her thigh trembled, and the slapped patch flushed a faint pink.
"Hnnh..." Egawa Mitsuki let out a soft moan, then turned crimson and glared at him, her tone flustered: "You clearly promised you wouldn't touch me!"
Yūto Shō paused, glancing up at her with the wide-eyed innocence of a harem protagonist caught with a face full of pantsu: "Weren't you the one who broke the rules first? I told you not to move, so why did you move?"
Egawa Mitsuki was momentarily speechless. Going by Yūto Shō's twisted logic, the fault really was hers, because the agreement clearly stated that if Yūto Shō told her not to do something, she wasn't allowed to do it.
But Egawa Mitsuki's brain caught up quickly, and she fumed: "Don't twist things! You were the one who flipped my skirt up!"
For any girl, having a boy lift her skirt was a flag of pure humiliation, yet Yūto Shō actually had the nerve to play uno-reverse after pulling something like this—a level of shamelessness that put even Death Note's villains to shame.
"Weren't you the one who made me lick your feet first? I only flipped your skirt to even the score," Yūto Shō said with zero shame in his game.
Egawa Mitsuki had never encountered anyone so brazenly rotten. She trembled with rage: "Lies! You were the one who took the initiative to lick my feet, you disgusting foot-fetish pervert, you lowly human male!"
She unleashed her fury, but the harder she pushed back, the more Yūto Shō read her as a textbook tsundere—all bark on the outside, hollow on the inside.
Yūto Shō smirked, "Oh really? Then why didn't you pull your foot out of my mouth back then? Don't tell me—you didn't want to let go?"
Egawa Mitsuki's delicate body shivered, her gaze going blank. Yes, Yūto Shō had been mouthing her toe for so long, so why hadn't she yanked her foot free? Could it actually be that...
Her expression crumbled, eyes flooding with horror.
Catching the girl's full mental defeat animation, Yūto Shō decided to push the route to its limit.
He crawled forward on his knees, pressing his upper body against hers, hands planted on either side of her head like a routine shoujo manga wall-slam tilted ninety degrees.
Yūto Shō bent down, bringing his face inches from hers. Egawa Mitsuki's heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively dodged his burning stare, asking in a trembling voice, "What are you trying to do?"
To keep her secret from leaking, Egawa Mitsuki had dismissed everyone in advance—including the principal himself. In other words, this entire floor was a private instance with only her and Yūto Shō inside. If Yūto Shō went full bad-end on her, she'd have absolutely no way to fight back.
The worst-case scenarios kicked through her head, and Egawa Mitsuki felt a creeping panic.
Yūto Shō snorted coldly and said, "Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to lick your feet? I've made such a massive sacrifice for you—can't you cooperate with me just once? I never planned on doing anything to you, I only told you not to move. You can't even handle that tiny request?"
Egawa Mitsuki felt herself bulldozed by his gaslighting and started genuinely doubting whether she really was being unreasonable. Her thoughts spun in circles, and Yūto Shō's face hovering so close to hers scrambled her ability to think straight.
Under Yūto Shō's intense stare, Egawa Mitsuki's eyes turned complicated as she studied the face right above hers, then murmured weakly, "I'll cooperate, but you absolutely cannot touch me from now on."
In the end, she chose to drop her resistance. Continuing to provoke Yūto Shō would only unlock even worse endings.
Yūto Shō watched her for a moment, then nodded: "I promise not to touch you, but you can't change positions either. Just lie there with your legs spread open exactly like this."
Egawa Mitsuki glanced down at her lower body. Through the narrow gap between their bodies, she saw herself shamelessly splayed open. Her skirt was rolled up to her waist, and Yūto Shō's lower half was pressed against hers like a fan-service still pulled straight from a banned-in-three-prefectures light novel. Her cheeks ignited and her breathing went ragged.
She inhaled and said shyly, "I already agreed, please get off me!"
Yūto Shō gave a mischievous smile but obediently lifted away. Their physical contact ended, yet he remained kneeling between her legs, and from above he had a clear view of her pale thighs and her lower body, snugly hugged by the safety shorts.
Yūto Shō glanced down and deliberately taunted her, "Alright, I'm starting now. Don't move, okay?"
Under her embarrassed and furious glare, Yūto Shō chuckled softly and bent down, bringing his face close to her safety shorts. At this distance, he could practically map every microscopic detail of the fabric.
The black safety shorts were trimmed with delicate lace, the small bumps on the surface clearly outlined, and at the center the contour rose like a soft hill, the most prominent feature on the whole landscape.
Yūto Shō couldn't pry his eyes away, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Egawa Mitsuki was sneaking glances at his reactions, and seeing him gulp like that, a flash of embarrassment crossed her eyes.
Yūto Shō couldn't hold back anymore. He leaned in and sniffed, and watching his actions, Egawa Mitsuki's face flushed even hotter, wishing she could just pass out and reroll.
Yūto Shō paid her no mind. First, all his focus had been hijacked by the view in front of him, leaving zero bandwidth for anything else. Second, Yūto Shō was still locked onto his actual objective—memorizing her scent. This was the last unmarked spot on his quest log.
But after several sniffs, Yūto Shō realized it still wasn't working. He figured out that trying to isolate the scent through fabric was a dead route—the cloth was acting like a complete scent-blocker.
So, should he just abandon the quest?
Yūto Shō wavered internally. If he kept going, he'd offend Egawa Mitsuki beyond repair. But even if he stopped now, she already hated his guts down to the marrow.
After flipping the pros and cons back and forth, Yūto Shō suddenly steeled his nerves. Who cares about her opinion? The top priority was leveling himself up. After all, this entire arc wasn't only about memorizing her scent—it was about cranking up his scumbag rating today and grinding more scumbag points.
Yūto Shō stopped hesitating. Seeing Egawa Mitsuki shyly squeeze her eyes shut under his scrutiny, he swiftly hooked his fingers under the edge of her safety shorts and yanked the fabric hard to the side.
In that instant, a subtle, faint fragrance drifted into the air.