CRITICAL MISS!
The skirt's ascent halted at its tactical apex, a mere centimeter shy of revealing its secrets. Asato Hitomi's smile remained, but it now held the polished edge of a seasoned merchant.
"Although I could show Kuroha-kun like this," she mused, her tone dripping with false regret, "it would be so much more meaningful… if Kuroha-kun agreed to a little something for me in return."
Tch. Called it.
Kuroha Akira's internal alarm blared. The view beneath a beautiful girl's skirt was the ultimate bait-and-switch scam. If he took the 'bait' now, he'd be 'slaughtered' worse than poor Jerry's sidekick. If she were truly a master manipulator, she could use this single moment as leverage to extort his entire high school life into servitude.
The cost-benefit analysis was brutal. The price for a panty peek was catastrophically high. His dignity might be cheap, but his future wasn't that cheap.
"Then I forfeit the view," he declared, forcing his gaze away.
"Forfeit? Really?" She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper loaded with marketing buzzwords. "These aren't just any panties. These are the limited edition, current-season panties of a first-year female high school student, your classmate, the Class Monitor! Aren't you even a little curious about the color? The style? The… texture?"
As she spoke, she gave her skirt a gentle, mesmerizing sway, like a magician distracting with a fluttering cloth. The hem danced, taunting him, exploiting humanity's base desire to solve mysteries. No wonder they say the final secrets of the universe are under a skirt, he thought wildly. It's the ultimate Schrödinger's box—is there a kitten inside, or just the void?
His eyes were treacherously drawn back, following the sway, caught in the glimpse-teasing technique perfected by lunch ladies everywhere—a torment designed to fray every teenage nerve.
Finally, with a Herculean effort, Kuroha Akira broke the spell. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled sharply, and leveled a finger at her.
"A one-second glance is 'looking.' A one-minute stare is also 'looking.' Up close is 'looking.' From three meters away is also 'looking.'" His logic was air-tight. "The power to lift the skirt rests solely in your hands, Class Monitor. These transaction terms are far too ambiguous and place me at a severe strategic disadvantage."
Asato Hitomi listened, then slowly lowered her skirt, a flicker of genuine contemplation crossing her face. "I see… You raise a valid point. Ambiguity in time and viewing distance does diminish the product's perceived value. If Kuroha-kun feels cheated, he'll be even less inclined to form a cooperative partnership."
"Most importantly," he pressed on, "I can't even confirm the product specs! What if they're printed with little bears or strawberries? My ROI would be in the negatives!" While some had that niche fetish, Kuroha Akira's tastes did not lean toward the kindergarten aesthetic.
"Little bears and strawberries are a loss…?" She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "Then, what kind of panties would constitute a 'gain' for Kuroha-kun?"
"Black. Lace. Sheer. Preferably with strategic cut-outs," he stated matter-of-factly, as if discussing stock options.
"My, how advanced. Is that Kuroha-kun's personal preference?"
"It's not about preference! It's about narrative integrity! Character setting!"
"Character… setting?"
"Exactly!" He gestured animatedly. "Picture this: A shy, pure-hearted high school girl trips. A gust of wind—fwoosh!—accidentally reveals her panties. Realizing she's been seen, her face blooms into a scarlet sunset. She yanks her skirt down in a flustered panic, but pulls too hard, causing the entire thing to slip, revealing the full panty vista! In that moment… the ultimate payoff must be simple, pure white cotton. No frills! The contrast is everything!"
Asato Hitomi's eyes grew distant as she followed his scenario. A slow nod of deep understanding dawned on her. "Ah… Now that you frame it that way, I too believe pure white is the only correct answer. It must be pure white."
"Right?!"
"But then," she continued, her voice dropping into a dangerously sweet tone. "Why would I be more suited to an 'adult' style like black, sheer lace? Please, Kuroha-kun… enlighten me."
Though her words were a request, her smile held the finality of a steel trap. Explain, or you're not leaving.
"Because for you, Class Monitor, a contrasting character setting is superior," he explained, slipping into director mode. "The façade is one of impeccable dignity and responsibility. But secretly? A hidden pervert. Craving bold, stimulating games to relieve academic pressure. The kind who goes home, takes off her glasses, and posts very risqué selfies online. Therefore, sophisticated, high-exposure lingerie is the only logical choice."
"Though I am the Class Monitor, I don't wear glasses."
"Which is precisely why I said you don't look the part!"
"Also, I don't feel any particular pressure from studying."
"How admirable." With an 'Academic Ability: A' tag, of course you don't, he thought.
"Speaking of which," she mused, tapping her chin. "For the secretly-perverted-Class-Monitor archetype Kuroha-kun described, wouldn't wearing nothing fit the setting even better?"
"That's not 'secretly perverted.' That's just a public nuisance."
"But for boys, seeing 'nothing' is the most exciting of all, isn't it?"
"…Well, you're not wrong."
Seeing she had just successfully raised the theoretical stakes, Asato Hitomi's eyes gleamed. Time to go all-in!
"So, Kuroha-kun…" Her voice was a silken lure. "Are you sure you don't want to confirm? To see if I, your Class Monitor, truly fit this 'contrasting' setting…? You could even lift the skirt yourself."
She had just offered him the lifting rights. It's said the two pieces of fabric a man most desires to lift in his life are his first love's skirt and his wife's veil. Furthermore, her offer implied an unlimited viewing time—a devastating temptation for Kuroha Akira, who had lifted neither in his previous life.
"So, Class Monitor," he asked, his voice dangerously calm. "Are you implying you're truly wearing nothing right now?"
"Hmm… There's always a possibility, you know?"
"The moment you hesitated, Class Monitor, that possibility dropped to zero."
"Kuroha-kun… you're too shrewd."
"If the grand prize is clearly off the table, I won't gamble with unclear terms." In other words, if she wanted to trade, she needed to disclose the product specs upfront.
But forcing a pristine high school girl to verbally confess her underwear choices was a shame-level exceeding most punishment games. No matter how mature her act, Asato Hitomi was fifteen—half his mental age—and un-baptized by corporate hell. The decisive difference between them was the thickness of their emotional calluses.
"Alright…" She sighed, the temptress act melting into something resembling resignation. "It seems Kuroha-kun isn't someone who can be swayed by such petty temptations. Or perhaps… my panties simply lack the necessary appeal…"
She walked past him, stopping before the vending machine with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. "What a pity. I was thinking of treating Kuroha-kun to a drink… if he was willing to help me."
CLICK.
That was the sound of Kuroha Akira's resolve locking into place. He leaned casually against the vending machine, crossing his arms.
"Class Monitor. While the panties of a contemporary high school girl hold a certain… cultural value, I am, at my core, a materialist. I prioritize concrete sustenance over spiritual yearnings."
"Kuroha-kun, I'm genuinely wounded now."
"Why?"
"Are my panties… not even worth a canned drink?"
"I didn't say a drink could buy me off either—" He caught himself, realizing he was being led down another rabbit hole. "Wait. More importantly, what is this 'favor' you want, exactly?"
Asato Hitomi turned, her smile returning, bright and triumphant. "You should have asked that first!"