An Extra's Rise in an Eroge-Chapter 236: Back to academy [2]

After the little private discussion with Madam Warden, I figured it was finally time to check in with my homeroom teacher.

The academy grounds were buzzing with energy. Fresh-faced students moved between lecture halls, faculty glided across the polished walkways, and yet... none of the familiar faces I cared about were around. Unsurprising. Most of them were probably still traveling back or taking the chance to rest.

But I wasn’t here just for formalities.

Professor Samantha—my homeroom teacher, but more than that... my master. Even if I wasn’t obligated to report to her, I’d still have come.

Just thinking about her... sent a ripple down my spine. That sharp voice of hers. That wicked smirk when she gets serious. Those training sessions... gods, those were something else. Half the time, I didn’t know if she was trying to break me or breed me.

Can’t wait for the next round.

I was still lost in thought—probably smirking like an idiot—when I realized I was already standing in front of her office door. I cleared my throat, raised a hand, and knocked.

Knock knock.

"Come in," came that unmistakably smooth voice from inside.

I pushed open the door and stepped into the cozy chaos that was her office.

Books. Scrolls. Mana-crystals humming gently on shelves. The place looked like a library and alchemist’s den had collided and decided not to clean up afterward. But it had its charm—just like her.

Professor Samantha sat behind her desk, half-buried in paperwork. Her slender fingers moved with quick precision, scribbling notes with that same glowing quill she always used. She didn’t even look up.

"You’re back," she said simply, eyes flicking toward me briefly before returning to her task.

That brief glance alone was enough to stir something in me.

She wore her usual tailored robe—fitted just enough to hint at the curves beneath. But it was those curls that did it for me. Her dark black hair fell in soft, chaotic waves over her shoulder, one stubborn lock swaying right between her breasts with each slight movement. She kept brushing it back absently, only for it to fall again.

She looked... irresistible when focused. Eyes narrowed, lips slightly pursed, brows furrowed in concentration. So confident. So commanding.

"Staring again, are we?" she said suddenly, not looking up.

I blinked. "Caught?"

She smirked without lifting her head. "You were quiet. That always means trouble with you."

I stepped closer, eyeing the exposed curve of her neck where her robe had slipped just a little. "Maybe I was admiring my master."

Her quill stopped.

Finally, she looked up fully—eyes sharp, lips curved just enough to let me know I was playing with fire.

"You’ve been gone a week and already forgot your place?" she said, voice cool.

I chuckled. "On the contrary. I was hoping you’d remind me."

A pause.

Then she set the quill down deliberately, leaned back in her chair, and crossed one leg over the other. That slight shift in posture alone made her robe stretch tight over her thighs, revealing a smooth sliver of skin between the folds.

"Oh, I will," she said with a sly smile. "But if you’re here to report, then report. Don’t test my patience. Not yet."

I smirked. "Yes, Professor."

I stepped over to the old wooden stand and picked up the quill to sign the entry register. The ink shimmered faintly with mana—of course. Even something as basic as checking in at this academy had enchantments woven into it.

As I filled out the return form, Samantha’s voice rang out behind me.

"I hope you didn’t lax in your training while you were gone."

I didn’t even look back. "Oh, believe me, Master. I’m stronger than before."

A pause.

"It’s good," she said, tone suddenly firmer. "You’ll need it."

That made me stop mid-signature.

"...What do you mean?"

I turned around.

Samantha glanced at me, her expression unreadable as she casually flipped a page on her desk. "The midterms are coming."

"...Midterms...?" I repeated, slowly.

That wasn’t right.

I knew the game’s timeline. I’d gone through this arc more times than I cared to count, and the midterms weren’t supposed to happen for at least another two months in-game time. There was a dungeon raid event first. The festival. Hell, even a side arc involving a student duel.

Midterms were nowhere near this point.

And yet—

My thoughts froze.

No. No, this wasn’t just a fluke.

It was me.

I stared at her for a moment, realization setting in.

My interference was changing the timeline.

Small things at first... but this?

This was no minor shift. It was the start of a chain reaction.

I clenched the quill in my hand a little tighter.

I couldn’t rely on the game anymore.

I couldn’t treat this world like a script.

I wasn’t some spectator watching a tragic plot unfold. I was in it now—living it, bleeding in it, fucking in it, killing in it.

And if I couldn’t change the tragedies that were written into this world... then what the fuck was the point of being reborn here?

I didn’t transmigrate just to sit back and watch the same shit happen again.

No.

I’m the variable now.

Samantha raised an eyebrow. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I forced a smirk. "Just remembered something annoying."

"Good," she said with a smirk of her own. "Annoyance is fuel for focus."

I placed the quill down, the register now signed, and walked over to her desk.

She didn’t move.

Neither did I.

The silence between us stretched, the tension thick—not just the usual flirtation, but something deeper now.

My voice dropped slightly. "So... how are we preparing for the midterms?"

Samantha leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk, breasts softly pressing into the wood as she smiled at me with a familiar, dangerous glint.

"Why ask me?" she said. "You’re the overachiever now, aren’t you? Or..." she leaned closer, voice dropping to a near-whisper, "do you need another training session to remind you how to handle pressure?"

My cock twitched.

Gods, this woman was going to be the death of me.

Samantha noticed, of course. Her eyes dipped—just once—before flicking back up to meet mine with that smug, knowing smirk she wore too damn well.

But just as I was about to test how far I could push her today, she raised her hand, palm out.

"No."

I blinked.

"No?"

She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other slowly—teasingly. "Not now. I have paperwork to finish, and you look like you haven’t even properly rested since you returned."

I gave a small scoff. "Since when did you care about that?"

She smirked. "I don’t. But I care about my tools being in optimal condition."

"Tools, huh? Is that what I am?"

She didn’t even blink. "A talented, promising... versatile tool. And tools need to be sharpened regularly."

I chuckled. "So, no sharpening today?"

"No." She stood and walked over to one of her shelves, casually pulling out a sealed scroll. "But..." she glanced back at me, "come to my house this weekend. We’ll resume your training then."

Her voice dropped into something darker, thicker. "You’ve grown stronger, right? Then I want to test it... personally."

I raised a brow. "Just training?"

Her lips curled slowly. "We’ll see how well you perform."

Damn tease.

"Fine. I’ll be there," I said, already imagining all the "exams" she might have in store.

Samantha turned back to her desk and waved a hand. "Then get out. Go rest. You stink of travel and sex."

I froze. "...What?"

She didn’t look up. "You think I can’t tell? I’m a master-class mage. You reek of mana, tension, and a woman’s legs wrapped around your waist."

I rubbed the back of my neck.

"...Right."

"Don’t bother denying it," she added, flipping another page. "Just don’t drag that scent into my bed next time. I expect you fresh."

"Understood, Professor."

I stepped out, closing the door behind me, her final smirk still burned into my mind.

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