Is It Wrong for an Extra to Steal the Protagonist's Harem?-Chapter 67: Psychological Warfare

"I wouldn’t make you run track alone at night. I’d make sure you got a proper... workout... indoors."

For a split second, the sheer audacity of my statement hung in the cool night air.

Then, Lena snapped.

She didn’t cast a spell. She didn’t shout. As a trained Royal Knight, her reaction was purely physical, explosive, and deadly fast.

She lunged at me.

Whoosh.

My [Agility] and [Calculation] allowed me to track her movement, but her raw speed was incredible. Before I could fully step back, her hands shot out, grabbing the lapels of my uniform jacket with a grip like iron.

Using her momentum, she shoved me backward.

Thud.

My back hit the heavy wooden fencing that bordered the track. Lena stepped into my guard, pinning me against the wood.

"You filthy, arrogant bastard," she snarled, her face inches from mine. Her breath was hot, smelling of mint and exertion. "I will tear your tongue out and feed it to you."

She was trying to intimidate me. But her positioning was a massive tactical error against a man who had absolutely zero shame.

Because she had pinned me against the fence, her body was pressed flush against mine. Her heavy, sweat-slicked breasts were crushed against my chest, the hardened peaks of her nipples rubbing through her thin sports bra right against my shirt. Her toned, muscular thighs were straddling my right leg.

The heat radiating from her body was overwhelming. The musky scent of her sweat was an absolute aphrodisiac.

I didn’t struggle. I didn’t try to break her grip.

Instead, I let my hands naturally drop, resting them firmly on her narrow, sweat-drenched waist, my thumbs lightly brushing the incredibly tight waistband of her spandex shorts.

"Careful, Lena," I murmured, my voice a low, vibrating purr. "If anyone walked by right now and saw you pinning me to a fence in the dark, panting and sweating... they wouldn’t think you were attacking me. They’d think you couldn’t control yourself."

Lena’s eyes widened slightly. The realization of our intensely intimate posture suddenly hit her.

She tried to bring her knee up to strike my groin—a classic self-defense move.

But I anticipated it. I shifted my hips, twisting my body just an inch to the left. Her knee missed its target, instead sliding up the inside of my thigh.

The movement caused her pelvis to press directly against my crotch.

She froze.

Through the thin layers of our clothing, she felt it. The rock-hard, undeniable ridge of my arousal pressing firmly against the soft, damp center of her spandex shorts.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips. The dominant, aggressive fire in her eyes flickered, replaced for a split second by raw, feminine shock. Her heart rate, already elevated from running, spiked into overdrive against my chest.

"You... you pervert," she whispered, her voice losing its terrifying edge, dropping into something breathless and husky.

"I’m just a healthy man reacting to a beautiful, half-naked woman grinding against him," I replied honestly, my hands sliding just a fraction of an inch lower to cup the firm, muscular swell of her upper ass. "Can you blame me, Lena? Look at you. You’re a goddess."

She swallowed hard. Her grip on my lapels weakened, her knuckles losing their white-knuckle tension.

I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. I dropped the psychological nuke.

"You train so hard. You fight for him. You sweat for him. And yet... he just looks right past you, doesn’t he?" I whispered, tracing the damp curve of her neck with my nose. "He treats you like a ’bro’. Like a sparring partner. He doesn’t see the woman underneath the armor."

I squeezed her hip gently.

The words struck deeper than any blade. The Protagonist’s dense nature was her greatest insecurity.

Lena shuddered. A violent, full-body tremble ran through her toned muscles.

For one terrifying, electric second, I thought she was going to lean in and kiss me. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting slightly as she breathed in my scent.

But her loyalty to Ren was a steel chain.

Her eyes snapped open, burning with a mix of shame, confusion, and profound anger.

She shoved me backward with all her strength, breaking the contact. She stumbled back two steps, her chest heaving, wrapping her arms around her own torso as if trying to shield herself from my words.

"Stay away from Ren," she hissed, her voice shaking violently. "And stay the hell away from me, Edelhart."

She turned and sprinted away into the darkness, running much faster than before, desperate to escape the track.

I stood by the fence, adjusting my jacket, a satisfied smirk playing on my lips.

[System Notification: Psychological Warfare Successful.]

[Target: Lena Brook. Status: Deeply Conflicted / Aroused.] [Lust Points: +50]

"Oh, Lena," I chuckled into the quiet night. "You can run, but you can’t outrun your own instincts."

*****

An hour later, I was back in the luxurious safety of the Edelhart private dormitory.

Dinner was a highly specialized affair tonight. I sat comfortably in the plush dining chair, a glass of expensive red wine resting on the table.

Sitting sideways across my lap was Lily.

She had taken her "duties" to the next level. She was completely topless, her maid skirt hiked up to her upper thighs. In her right hand, she held a silver fork, carefully slicing a piece of tender, medium-rare monster steak and bringing it to my mouth.

"Is it to your liking, Master?" she purred, her golden eyes watching me chew.

"Perfect," I mumbled, swallowing.

While she fed me, my hands were far from idle. I had both hands full of her magnificent, bare breasts. I gently squeezed and massaged the soft mounds, occasionally rolling her increasingly hard, pink nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Every time I pinched a little harder, Lily would let out a soft, breathy sigh, her hips squirming unconsciously against my lap.

It was the ultimate aristocrat’s dining experience.

"Lily," I said, catching a stray drip of meat juice from the corner of my mouth with a napkin. "Do you know anything about a girl named Emma?"

Lily’s hand froze mid-air. The piece of steak on the end of the fork trembled.

Beneath my hands, I felt her heartbeat instantly spike. Her body went completely rigid, the relaxed, sultry atmosphere evaporating in a split second.

I stopped playing with her chest, sitting up slightly. "What’s with that reaction? I presume you know her."

Lily slowly lowered the fork to the plate. She turned her head to look at me, her golden eyes filled with deep confusion and a hint of genuine fear.

"Why are you asking me that, Master?" she whispered. "You... you of all people should know all about Lady Emma."

I cursed internally. Of course she was someone important. "Well," I started, quickly formulating an excuse. I needed to play this carefully without breaking character. "As you know, I was badly hurt during the Freshman Expedition. The necrotic poison from the Cultist’s blast did some severe internal damage."

Lily gasped, her hands flying up to touch my face. "I knew it! The healers said you were fine!"

"I am fine, physically," I assured her, catching her wrists. "But I haven’t mentioned this to you because I didn’t want you to worry. Ever since I woke up in the infirmary... my memories have been a bit fuzzy. It’s like looking through frosted glass. I don’t remember many things from my past."

"What?!"

Lily practically jumped off my lap, her bare breasts bouncing wildly. Panic seized her features.

"You lost your memories?! Master, this is no small matter! How can you be so careless? If the dark mana damaged your brain... I have to report this to the Duke immediately! We need the Royal Clerics!"

She scrambled toward the communication crystal on the desk.

"Lily, stop!" I grabbed her waist, pulling her back against my chest. I wrapped my arms securely around her bare torso, burying my face in the crook of her neck. "Relax. Take a deep breath."

"But Master—!"

"I said relax," I commanded softly, channeling a bit of my [Charisma] to soothe her panic. I kissed her shoulder blade. "As I said, it’s not that serious. I know all the crucial details. I know who I am. I know my magic. I know you, and how much you mean to me."

I squeezed her waist, pulling her flush against me.

"It’s just the less important things that seem to have slipped away. Minor acquaintances. Childhood events. The healers warned me it was a temporary side effect of the dark mana metabolism. It will come back. If you tell my father, he’ll pull me out of the Academy, and I’ll lose everything I’ve built here."

I spent the next hour doing absolutely everything in my power to calm her down. I fed her my own wine, massaged her tense shoulders, and peppered her neck with kisses until her panic melted back into pliant, devoted lust.

By the time I carried her to the sofa and laid her down, she was convinced to keep my "amnesia" a secret.

"I’ll... I’ll keep it between us, Master," she agreed, resting her head against my chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my shirt. "But you have to promise to tell me if you forget anything else."

"I promise." I stroked her hair. "Now, coming back to the point. Who is Emma?"

Lily let out a long, complicated sigh.

"Why are you suddenly asking about her tonight?"

"Because she transferred to the Academy today," I explained, playing with a strand of Lily’s dark hair. "She found me in the hallway. And she was incredibly... clingy. She practically tackled me, called herself my ’aide’, and said she was sneaking into my bed tonight. I was completely confused."