"I want you to fire that Rai Hikaru—he's no good, a total bad apple!"
"Letting him stay as our special psych counselor will corrupt the whole academy's vibe!"
In the dean's office, Louisa passionately railed at the dean ahead, preaching her righteous ideals.
Rikka stayed cool, picking up shredded dress scraps and a fallen heel from the floor before easing into her chair.
Shifting her thigh revealed a spilled milk carton she'd knocked over mid-session.
Half-drunk, creamy white milk still oozed out.
Nutritious raw milk pooled on the chair, her thighs, the floor.
Silver-framed brows furrowed; she pinched the straw hole wider with two fingers—yep, plenty left.
'That guy brings milk but doesn't clean up... such a headache...'
She grabbed tissues, casually wiping the spout, her calves, thighs, chair stains.
Ignored, head down busy—Louisa snapped. "Dean! Hear me? Want me to repeat?"
Milk cleaned, Rikka looked up slow.
Adjusting glasses, icy and stern: "Heard you. No repeat needed."
"Clear as day, Louisa."
"The special counselor program? Not. Getting. Canceled."
Louisa baffled: "Why?!"
Rikka measured: "Different perspectives—you can't grasp how bad Seika needs mind-body relief."
"Rai Hikaru's no rat shit. He's Seika's savior."
"With him, student stress plummets."
"No hard data yet, but guaranteed: fewer suicides from overload—maybe zero. Post-relief, studies and athletics spike. Pure human physiology."
"Don't believe? Wait for midterms."
"Relieved Wakaba? Massive gains—top three grade easy."
"Not beating you, top dog, but podium sure."
Rikka's words drew Louisa's scoff. "Dean, that's... hilarious."
"Wakaba usually mid-teens, twenties—rare top ten."
"Now she's fallen—hotel-fresh from that scum, exam-taking degenerate. Insults Seika!"
"Progress? If she improves, I'll crab-walk outta here!"
Rikka's eyes sparked. Pointing desk: "Your words jogged it."
"That stack? Your midterms, right?"
"Answers beside. Pull Wakaba's—compare. Curious on her jump."
Legs—stockings dripping milk—propped, chin on hand, watching amused.
No peek at papers, but gate vibes plus judgment? Wakaba improved big.
Louisa caught the confidence, snorted, stormed desk.
Wafted away a musky clam-floral funk with a hand-wave.
Flipped stack, nabbed Wakaba's.
Matched answers.
Confident at first—degenerate path via scum? Plunge expected.
But face darkened. "This one... right."
"This too... right!"
"Should miss... wait—right!"
Muttering, assurance to grim.
Veteran reader Rikka smirked at the scowl. "Heh."
Louisa's glare black. Stubborn: "Wrong key maybe—redo!"
Couldn't believe it was Wakaba's.
Or the results.
Redo...
"Impossible! No way!"
"All correct?!"
"I missed two on this!"
"No—impossible!!!"
Fast recheck.
Sheets down, face ashen.
Rikka's stockings on desk, arms crossed under chin, grinning. "Done? Verdict?"
Hated it, unbelievable—but: "Done."
"Wakaba... zero wrongs."
"Full marks."
Rikka smiled faint. "Heh, nice. You missed two, right?"
No joy, face storm-dark, nod: "Yes."
"Two misses? Killer—medium diff, usual topper."
Silence nod.
"Star prez misses two. Wakaba perfect—grade first locked."
Fury flared: "Yes! She's top!"
"But I refuse!"
"Not sore loser—don't care stronger rankers."
"But hotel tramp with that vermin, outscoring me? Bull!"
"Wakaba cheated! You leaked for PR stunt on relief results!"
Rikka burst laughing. "Pfft! Louisa, overdid solo last night—fried your brain?!"
"Seika proctoring—you blind?!"
"Cheating penalties—you prez, clueless?!"
"Rule-maker breaks rules in ironclad Seika?!"
"Your Rai hate shit-clogged your skull—can't think!"
"Five-plus HD cams per exam—check footage! One cheat whiff, I resign now!"
"Sore loser crap? Disappointing!"
Started smirky, turned roar-scold.
High-dean aura crushed; Louisa head down, skirt gripped, body quivers.
"I... sorry. My bad. Cheating in Seika exams? Impossible."
Apology real.
Rikka's rant half-scared her, but logic held.
Seika strict: no boyfriends, counselors for stress.
Exams—mocks included—high-stakes as nationals.
Cheat claim? Laughable.
Heat-of-moment Rai rage-blurt.
Rikka softened. "So, believe me now? Counselor's necessity?"
Face soured instant. Head up: "Wakaba's score? Legit, no cheat call."
"But coincidence! Pure luck!"
"No faith in man-relief miracles!"
"Least from vile Rai!"
"Program's trash—fire him!"
Rikka pinched brow, temple-rub. Sigh: "Louisa, you're ace—scholar, talent. Why prez otherwise."
"Admired you—young me vibes."
"But this? Stubborn opposition—always bucking me?"
"No more talk. Program stays."
"One thing: know your family, your man-hate trauma. Serious hangup."
"Untreated? Bad end."
"Better vent than block—floods unstoppable."
"You girls? Tidal stress-waves."
"Must drain—or crush."
"Yours? Bigger, fuller than most."
"So Wakaba aside, you're prime for Rai relief."
"Planned you first—your resistance..."
Calm analysis post-spat.
Louisa bristled, reflex-rebuttal brewing—hated exposure, rejected logic.
But Rikka immovable.
Tantrums? Backfire, disgust.
Dean's dead end—new angle needed.
Prez brain kicked in; calmed, plotted.
Swallowed ire: "Got it. Thanks for advice—I'll seriously consider my... relief needs."
Turned to leave.
Teasing: "Forgot? Wakaba top-three, you crab out?"
Face froze.
Smart head, meh body—lagged aces like Kato Misakura.
Mid-headstand grit—
Rikka: "Nah, pass. Just learn—drop counselor nagging."
Louisa mute, bolted.
Rikka eyed hasty back, shook head: "Kid didn't hear. Whatever."
"Rai-kun handled me—won't sweat daddy-starved brat."
"Play dad, conquer her void, Rai Hikaru."
Muttered at her shadow.
Louisa oblivious—would rage if heard.
Still, Rikka bullheaded, infuriating.
"Decided! Scrap counselor gig—my mission!"
"Prez duty: purify campus, purge vermin Rai!"
"Dean's brick wall—hit Rai instead!"
"Wrong target before—dean too strong."
"Vermin Rai? Easy pickings!"
"Me, elite heiress ace—worlds apart!"
"Not Wakaba-brainless slut!"
"Rai Hikaru, grovel soon!"
Fist clenched, schemes drafted.
Cash-grub mudboy? She'd crush casual!
......
......
Meanwhile.
Rai Hikaru clueless to office drama post-exit.
Or daddy-obsessed Louisa bagging him easy.
Heading home—not his pad, Tsubara house.
Mira missed him—dinner call.
Figured eat, then swing Xianghe Apartments—not far—for Yukino Miyako, Shinomiya Natsuka fun, settle whose sheets soaked more.
Cab dropped at Tsubara.
Like last, door swung pre-knock.
Seductive breeze, plush body crashed into him.
"Little Hikaru's home!"
Pink sheer slip alone, Tsubara Mira hugged joyful.
Gazing thrilled at door-Rai.
Her thin straps failed containment—massive swells crushed his chest, face upturned adoring.
Rai Hikaru's head throbbed instant.
Why? Fresh off Wakaba and Rikka "test."
Yet Mira auto-swelled it.
Her? Willpower tanked, headaches galore.
Cough-clear, step-back: "Afternoon, Mira-san. Back."
"Gift for you!"
Bag up.
Mira snatched eager, peeking, squealing: "Whoa! Little Hikaru grown! Gifting auntie?!"
"Auntie thrilled!"
"Skincare... makeup... bag, perfect-color-style lingerie, pajamas..."
"Spot-on! Nailed auntie's weak spots—preferences, triggers, all memorized!"
"Ecstatic! Smooch reward!"
Puckered glossy lips smack his cheek.
Wipe spit, wry smile at double-meaning cheer.
"Mira-san, inside first."
Nod. "Yup, chat indoors."
Arm hooked his, tugged in.
Less returning foster son, more hubby homecoming.
Inside, still arm-clung.
Arm nestled perfect cleavage-valley.
Dream squeeze for any man.
Rai drowned a beat.
But relations check—slipped free quiet.
Mira no react, lips quirked.
Perky nose twitched—sniffed close-contact scent.
Her nose keen.
Eyes locked his handsome face.
Rai's gut twisted ominous...