Academy's Pervert in the D Class

Two days later.

The morning sun slanted through cracked glass panes, casting a lazy golden mosaic across the warped floorboards of Class D’s classroom.

Dust motes glittered in the air, suspended like forgotten mana.

The usual hum of disinterest filled the space—chairs scraping, bored murmurs, and the uneven tap of Miss Silvia’s heels on the stone tiles as she fumbled toward the chalkboard.

Lor slouched in his usual spot at the back, chin propped on his palm, hazel eyes half-lidded behind his messy black hair.

The seat beside him creaked as Nellie fidgeted, her twin braids bouncing with every nervous twitch.

Her standard academy blouse and skirt hugged her petite frame, no trace of the scandalous cat girl costume she’d worn that night in the privacy of her opulent study.

Only Lor knew how she’d looked—velvet clinging to her thick thighs, tail plug glinting, bell chiming with each "meow."

Or how she’d glowed, solving math problems with a confidence he’d never seen in her before.

Miss Silvia dropped a bundle of parchment onto her desk with a clumsy thud, muttering about ink stains on her fingers.

She pinned test results to the board, her enthusiasm barely contained, though her pencil skirt caught on the desk’s edge as she turned, riding up just shy of indecency.