"Uuuh… Mmh…"
"Good morning, darling."
"Gold City…? NNNYYYYAAAWWWNNN~~~ Uuh… Morning. Thank you for last night. Thanks to your massage, I slept like a log."
"Of course, I had fun too. I get to hear the sound of heaven. And to feel your body in its entirety."
"Please fix your wording. You sound like a pervert."
"A perfect fit for someone like you."
"A corrupted supermodel does sound nice, but I still like to keep my head on my neck."
"Ahahahaha~~ You don't have to worry too much, darling. You can leave them to me. So, did you enjoy my service last night?"
"I did say that I–"
"You know what I'm talking about. Your moans were dangerously cute~~"
"...You take advantage of me."
"On the contrary, the fact that you get so stimulated from just a mere massage indicates just how pent up you are. You were lucky it was me. Who knows what others might do to you? Pointing such a massive, veiny, and bumpy cannon at a woman can be considered a crime, you know?"
"Kuh! I can't help it…"
"I know, and I understand. You were lucky I was such an understanding umamusume. A normal woman would be calling the police on you. Can you imagine what if a supermodel called the police on you?"
"Kuh… Thank you for not doing that…"
Damn those Goddesses!! Whatever modifications they made are making my life worse and worse!! I can't believe a supermodel gave me a handjob.
Fufufufu~~ Sorry for lying to you, darling~~ It was never your fault to begin with. Everything was entirely my fault, and now I have something to make sure you never leave me. Fufufu~~ Once I get rid of that thing, we can finally be together.
"If you ever feel pent up again, you can come to me again."
"No. I'm planning to jerk off to your pictures every single day from now on."
"You truly are something else, dear. I don't know if I'm supposed to be happy or mad. As a punishment, I'm going to jerk you off while we both take a bath."
"Wait!! You already dried me off last night!!"
"I'm going to dry you even further. Until you're nothing more than a dry husk."
"Oooohh… I'm sorry for everything…"
XxX-XxX
"Uuuuh…"
A certain young man is walking into the Tracen Academy grounds, completely dried out and unable to concentrate on anything. He's like a zombie who is on patrol for fresh brains.
"Ah… Trainer Igo…"
"Huuuuuh…"
The zombie turns his head toward where the voice is coming from and sees the mother of his daughter standing there. King Halo is in her tracksuit.
"Wife? What are you doing?"
"I'm training, and can you really call me wife when you already have a girlfriend?"
"Ah… Our daughter told you, huh? Don't worry, I can always use a side chick."
"I'm taking custody of Haru Urara. You only get to meet him during training and nothing else."
"Gah!! No fair!! She is my blood!! I have the right to see her!"
"I only want her to improve in her running. I don't want her to get any of your personalities."
"Oh! So that's your only reason to marry me, huh? Not because out of pure love."
"You already have a new one. It's you who only marry me for my body. Thankfully, I found a new trainer. Someone who could truly value me for what I am."
"Your body as well?"
"Technically, you're correct, but I don't want you to have the satisfaction of being correct."
"Who is the bastard?"
"...Why do I have a feeling that you're up to no good?"
"Don't worry. I'm planning to see if they're worthy of my wife."
"The one who decides that is me, not you. I have decided that she is worthy to train me."
"A woman, huh? Whatever! I'm expecting great things from my first-rate wife, so if you fail, I'm taking you for myself."
"I have heard of your brashness and confidence, but those rumors do no justice to just how massive your ego is."
A deep woman's voice calls out the young man from beyond his cone of vision. When he turned his head to see who it was, he was quite taken aback. A cascade of pale violet hair fell to one side, framing her face where sharpness and beauty coexisted. Yet it was not only the violet that defined her—woven among those silken strands was a darker presence, a shadow of black that lent her hair a layered intrigue. The black locks did not overwhelm; instead, they whispered of contrast, slipping through the lighter tones like midnight threading into twilight. They gave her style a deliberate edge, a reminder that beneath the elegance lay something untamed. Her eyes—deep crimson, gleaming with a quiet confidence backed by knowledge—seemed to hold secrets, daring anyone to look for too long.
She wore her suit like armor, the tailored blue blazer hugging her shoulders with precision, its lapel marked by a pin that proudly proclaimed her affiliation with Tracen Academy. Beneath it, a crisp white shirt contrasted against the dark choker at her throat, a contrast of formality and naughtiness. Gold hollow squares glinted at her ears, shaking with the rhythm of her feet.
"Senior Fumino Nase, so you're my wife's trainer?"
"Wife?"
"Please don't think too much of it, Trainer. We were just playing house with my roommate, and this man doesn't know when to stop."
"So, you're not only rude, but also perverted."
"That's me, alright. Igo Heita, at your service."
"...How do you talk with this man, King?"
"Honestly, you have to play by his rhythm and turn off your brain. That's the only way to communicate with him."
"I see… So he is more of a bad influence than I initially thought."
"Oh~ It's okay, girls. There's no need to fight over me. There's plenty of me to go around."
"..."
"..."
"My brain hurts."
"You'll get used to it."