Divine Milking System-Chapter 15 | A Tale of Two Heiresses

"You really are hopeless, aren’t you?"

Belle stood at the elevator with her arms crossed, watching me check the app for the third time in two minutes.

"Hey, don’t be rude," I said. "It’s not my fault this academy is so confusing."

"It’s literally color-coded," Belle said. "Blue trim. Theory Towers. East building. Room 204. A child could follow these directions."

"A child with a better sense of direction than me."

Belle sighed and started walking. "Come on. I’ll lead. Try to keep up."

I followed.

That was a mistake.

Belle walked like she was being chased. Long strides. Fast pace. Completely unbothered by the fact that I was currently operating in a body that treated cardio like a war crime.

My legs started burning by the second hallway.

My breath came shorter by the third.

I dropped back a few steps just to maintain some kind of sustainable rhythm.

Which put me directly behind Belle.

Which gave me a perfect view of her uniform skirt swishing with each step.

And the fact that the skirt was shorter than regulation.

And the fact that Belle’s ass was eating those black tights for breakfast.

And the fact that every fourth or fifth step, the fabric shifted just enough to show a sliver of bare skin where the tights ended and her actual body began.

I caught a flash of pale skin. A curve. And then something else.

A small dark mark on her right cheek.

Heart-shaped.

A mole.

"Huh, a mole," I muttered.

Belle stopped walking.

She turned around so fast I almost ran into her.

"What did you just say?"

Shit.

"Atoll," I said immediately.

Belle’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I was wondering if this island is an atoll," I said. "You know, coral reef formation. Ring-shaped. Encloses a lagoon. San Nicolas doesn’t quite fit the profile because it’s got actual elevation at the center, but technically some geologists argue that any island with a raised reef structure could qualify as proto-atoll development depending on the tectonic activity and sediment composition."

Belle stared at me.

I stared back.

"What the hell is an atoll?" she asked.

"I just explained it."

"No, I mean why do you know that?"

"I read things," I said.

Which was technically true.

What I didn’t mention was that I’d learned this specific information from Stacy, a marine biologist with the softest ass. We’d hooked up a few times back in my old life, and she had this habit of talking about marine ecosystems while we were lying in bed after sex.

Coral formations. Ocean acidification. Reef biodiversity. She’d go on for hours if I let her.

Apparently some of it stuck.

Thanks, Stacy.

Belle looked suspicious but she let it drop. "Okay, weirdo. Come on."

This time she walked next to me instead of ahead.

I tried not to look relieved.

We made it to the Theory Towers without further incident. The East building was exactly where the app said it would be. Second floor. Room 204. The door was already open when we arrived.

I stopped in the doorway.

The room was huge. Amphitheater-style seating arranged in descending rows. Split down the middle by an invisible line that separated black uniforms on the left from blue uniforms on the right.

House Obsidian and House Sapphire.

Compound class.

Great.

Belle walked in like she owned the place and headed for the Obsidian side. I followed.

My eyes scanned the room on autopilot.

Blue uniforms. Sapphire students. Mostly clustered in groups. Talking quietly. A few sitting alone.

Black uniforms. Obsidian students. Same deal.

And then I saw her.

Blair Davenport.

Sitting three rows from the front on the Obsidian side. Perfect posture. Short red hair cut in that sharp bob that framed her face like a weapon. Cold blue eyes. Pale skin. Red ribbon tied at her collar in a bow. Glasses perched on her nose even though she didn’t need them.

And a body that belonged in a museum or a crime scene depending on your perspective.

The blazer strained across her chest in ways that suggested structural engineering had been involved in the tailoring process. The yellow shirt underneath pulled tight enough that I could see the outline of buttons working overtime. Her skirt sat high on a waist so small it looked photoshopped.

And next to her sat Misato Ayame.

Lime green hair tied back in a ponytail. Sharp features. Athletic build. A body that screamed "I can kick your ass and look good doing it" with a chest that made the uniform jacket look like a suggestion rather than actual clothing. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Both of them looked like they’d walked out of a hentai and into reality.

Blair was glaring daggers across the aisle.

I followed her line of sight.

Gong Sun-Hee.

The other heiress.

Sitting on the Sapphire side with perfect posture and an expression of polite serenity that probably took years to perfect. Long black hair pulled into a high ponytail. Elegant features.

Her uniform fit like it had been designed by someone who understood fabric tension and physics. The blazer hugged her shoulders and waist before pulling across a chest that rivaled Blair’s in pure structural audacity.

Two heiresses.

Two houses.

One room.

This was going to be a shitshow.

I headed for the back row.

Belle peeled off somewhere in the middle. I didn’t track where.

The seats were those fold-down lecture hall chairs with attached desks. I picked one near the corner and sat down.

The sides of the chair dug into my waist.

Fuck.

I shifted. Adjusted. Tried to get comfortable.

The plastic creaked.

I needed to lose weight.

Fast.

Someone sat down next to me.

Naomi.

She smiled when she saw me.

"Hi, Jace," she said softly.

"Hey," I said.

She arranged her bag carefully on the floor next to her feet. Her movements were precise. Nervous. Like she was trying not to take up too much space.

Naomi Love.

The designated wholesome girl.

The heroine who was supposed to become Javier’s first real friend at the academy. The one who’d develop a quiet, one-sided crush on him while he remained oblivious because he was too busy chasing Blair and getting his ass kicked in training montages.

In the original story, Naomi loses.

She confesses her feelings during the winter festival in their second year, and Javier gently turns her down because he’s already secretly dating Blair by that point. Naomi takes it gracefully. Stays friends. Supports him from the sidelines. Eventually graduates and joins a mid-tier guild where she becomes a respected support hunter.

Tragic? A little.

Realistic? Extremely.

I looked at her now. Pink and black striped hair falling past her shoulders. Pink eyes that were too kind for a place like this. Tall frame that made the uniform look almost modest despite the fact that her chest was still straining the buttons.

She caught me looking and her cheeks went pink.

"Sorry," she said immediately. "I didn’t mean to sit next to you without asking. I can move if you want."