Academy's Pervert in the D Class-Chapter 109: omelette

The streets blurred past as Lor sprinted, half-devouring the warm omelette Mira had shoved into his hands, the savory taste of egg and herbs lingering on his tongue.

His uniform flapped open slightly, hair still damp from his rushed wash, a few rogue crumbs clinging to his collar, his boots pounding the cobbled road with relentless urgency.

The academy gates loomed ahead, iron arches glinting in the morning sun, and he was gaining—heart racing, breath ragged, the Guiding Light scam’s web still spinning in his mind.

Then he noticed her.

A flash of blonde beside him. Long legs. Longer stride.

Ameth.

She was tall, elegant even in a rush, her school blouse straining against the swell of her full breasts, the fabric taut as she ran, a slice of bread clamped in her mouth like a cliché from a school drama.

Her icy blue eyes flicked toward Lor as they ran side-by-side, not slowing, not greeting, not acknowledging—her gaze slid past him like he was invisible, her golden braid catching the light like a flame.

Classmate.

Same year.

Same classroom.

But in that moment, he may as well have been a ghost.

She surged ahead, her pace picking up, her skirt fluttering with the motion. And then—without a second of hesitation—she stepped into the air.

Lor slowed instinctively, his hazel eyes wide as he watched her walk skyward, each step gliding effortlessly over invisible platforms of wind magic, her movements graceful, almost ethereal.

Her skirt lifted slightly, teasing a glimpse of purple lace panties before settling back, her golden hair shimmering in the morning sun.

She didn’t pause.

Didn’t glance back.

She walked over the academy gates, vanished with a breeze, and melted behind the stone walls as if she’d never rushed at all.

Lor could’ve done the same—his own magic, subtle but precise, could’ve carried him over with ease. But not with all those eyes. Not with Class B and C students watching, their whispers already trailing him like shadows.

He ground his teeth and kept running, slipping through the main gates like a normal.

A late normal, his boots echoing on the stone path, his uniform rumpled, crumbs still clinging to his collar.

By the time he reached Class D, he was breathless, sweat beading at his temples.

The wooden doors were half open, the murmur of spell theory flowing into the hallway, Miss Silvia’s voice clear and authoritative.

He pushed through, hoping for mercy, his heart sinking as he stepped into the room.

Miss Silvia stood at the front, her glasses perfectly angled, her white coat flowing with quiet authority as she sketched glowing sigils on the board, her auburn hair immaculate in its bun.

Her gaze snapped to him instantly, sharp and unyielding.

Ameth was already seated—back straight, legs crossed, her blonde braid perfect, not a hint of breathlessness, as if she’d been there since sunrise, her icy blue eyes fixed on the board, ignoring Lor completely.

No one had noticed her dramatic entrance.

And he? 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Lor Vayne," Silvia said sharply, barely turning her head, her voice cutting through the class’s murmurs like a blade. "You’re late."

He froze, his hazel eyes widening, crumbs still clinging to his collar. "I—I overslept—"

"Excuses are plentiful," she snapped, her glasses glinting as she pointed to the door. "But discipline is precious. Corridor. Now."

He sighed, slumping as the class chuckled behind him, a few snickers rising from the back.

"Yes, Miss Silvia..." he muttered, turning to shuffle out, his boots dragging against the floor.

The door clicked behind him, and he stood in the corridor, back straight, hands behind him, the cool stone wall at his back.

The hallway was quiet, save for the muffled voice of Silvia’s lecture.

Soon enough, Class C students began trickling through for their own lecture, their polished uniforms and confident strides a stark contrast to Lor’s rumpled state.

And they noticed him, their eyes glinting with amusement.

Snickers. Snide comments.

"Still Class D trash."

"Did he wet the bed?"

"Looks like even Silvia gave up on him."

Lor clenched his fists, his hazel eyes narrowing, but kept his face neutral, the barbs sliding off his practiced facade.

Then—click.

The door opened beside him.

And Kiara stepped out, her presence like a storm rolling in, her dark bangs framing a sharp face, her icy blue eyes cold and commanding.

She didn’t look at him immediately, her gaze sweeping down the hall, past the boys laughing, her skirt swishing against her plush thighs, black lace panties peeking faintly at the hem.

Her glare could’ve set hair on fire, her voice slicing through the air like a whip.

"You said something?" she asked, cold and sharp, her words laced with a threat that chilled the corridor.

The air seemed to drop a degree.

The students flinched, their smirks vanishing, excuses tumbling out—"wrong floor," "late class," "oh hey, gotta go"—they scattered like insects under torchlight, their footsteps fading into the distance.

Then she leaned against the wall, right beside Lor, crossing one long leg over the other as if it was the most casual thing in the world, her full breasts rising with a slow breath, her blouse clinging to her curves.

"What are you doing?" Lor asked, blinking up at her, his hazel eyes curious but wary.

She yawned slightly, her lips curling into a smirk. "What? I got punished for throwing paper at Miss Silvia. Apparently, I need to ’relearn decorum.’"

He grinned faintly, the tension easing slightly. "Thanks. For the company."

She smirked, tilting her head, her dark bangs falling into her icy blue eyes.

"I have to keep an eye on you. Otherwise, you’ll go sniffing after skirts from other classes."

Lor chuckled, low and easy. "I’m not that bad."

She said nothing.

Instead, she leaned closer, her body heat brushing against him, her spicy perfume enveloping him like a spell.

Sniffed.

He stiffened, his hazel eyes widening.

She sniffed again, her nose brushing his collar, the motion intimate and invasive, her full breasts nearly grazing his chest.