Chapter 222: Request from Mrs Lira 2
"I’m not putting you anywhere you don’t want to be," he replied calmly, voice low, careful. "If you don’t want this, say so. I’ll respect it."
That sincerity, the way he didn’t try to push or manipulate, disarmed her more than any charm or flattering remark could. For a long moment, the room held only their quiet breathing. The faint hum of tension between them stretched, sharp but unspoken, like a bowstring pulled tight and ready to snap.
Finally, she looked down at the desk, her cheeks still tinged pink. "You really don’t make things easy," she admitted, the words almost a whisper, meant more for herself than him.
Jae straightened slightly, stepping back just enough to give her space, though his eyes didn’t leave hers. They lingered, patient and watchful, as if daring her to give in. "So, will you?" he asked, simple, direct, unflinching.
Her lips pressed together, tightly. She knew what she should say. She should deny him, draw a line, keep the professional boundary clear. That was the logical choice. The safe choice. The choice demanded by her position as a teacher.
Yet, despite the quiet rational voice in her head, her body and her instincts said something else entirely. The quiet pull toward him, the curiosity, the tension that hummed in her chest, all tugged at her like a weight she couldn’t resist.
"...After class tomorrow," she said softly, her words barely louder than a whisper. She averted her gaze again, quickly looking down at the neat stacks of parchment on her desk. "Wait for me here. I’ll take you to the teachers’ wing. My quarters are private enough."
Jae’s smirk deepened, faint but noticeable, teasing but restrained. He didn’t push, didn’t step closer again, respected the space she had carved out. "I’ll be here," he said simply, the confidence in his tone both comforting and infuriating.
Mrs. Lira turned quickly back to her papers, arranging them with deliberate precision, though her hands shook faintly as she tried to mask the warmth in her cheeks. The neat rhythm of stacking and sorting should have brought her comfort, but the motion felt off, uneven, her fingers fumbling slightly over the edges of the parchment.
She tried to focus, tried to remind herself of reason, order, and propriety, but the quiet memory of his presence, the intensity in his gaze, the subtle heat in the room that followed him, it lingered like smoke, refusing to dissipate.
Jae lingered a moment longer, enjoying the shift he had caused, not pushing further, letting the room breathe with him in it. He noticed the slight hitch in her movements, the uneven rhythm of her hands, the quick glances she cast toward the door before returning to her work.
He had seen hesitation, glimpsed vulnerability, even if she tried to hide it beneath neat piles of parchment and careful posture. He tilted his head slightly, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Mrs. Lira," he said quietly, the words soft enough to be intimate, but not so loud as to embarrass her in her empty classroom.
Her name on his lips sounded closer than it should have. It brushed against her ears and lingered in her mind, soft and deliberate. She gripped her quill tighter, pressing it to the parchment like it could steady the rush of heat that crept up her neck and into her face.
She forced herself to focus on the mechanical movement of stacking and sorting papers, the motions meant to bring order, to distract from the tight coil of anticipation in her chest.
When the door finally shut behind him, the sudden absence of his presence pressed in around her. Silence filled the room, heavy and thick, yet it carried the ghost of his calm, his confidence, the small smirk that lingered in her memory.
She sat down heavily at her desk, pressing a hand to her chest, trying to slow the pulse that had quickened despite her best efforts.
What was she doing?
She should have denied him. She should have kept her stance firm, professional, untouchable. She was a teacher, a guide, someone who commanded respect, not someone who let a student draw her into quiet, private corners with a smirk and a simple request. Yet, she had agreed.
She had agreed to let him in, not just into a lesson, not just into her time, but into the most private part of her life, the place where students and the public eye didn’t belong. And worse, a part of her wasn’t dreading it.
A part of her, despite all her training, her careful reasoning, was already anticipating tomorrow. The thought made her lips press together, and she buried her face briefly in her hands, trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart. No, she told herself, no.
He was her student. Her responsibility. She was supposed to guide him, to help him grow, to protect him, not... not fall prey to the magnetic pull of his presence, the subtle strength in his voice, the calm in his crimson eyes.
But the memory of that gaze lingered. The heat in his words, the way he had said "want" that one simple word carrying more weight than any statement about training or lessons refused to leave her mind. It settled in her chest like a small fire, dangerous yet impossible to ignore.
She exhaled shakily, whispering to herself as though it might banish the thoughts entirely. "What are you doing, Lira...?"
Her hands trembled slightly as she set the quill down, fingers brushing against the smooth wood of her desk. She knew that tomorrow’s lesson would be more than guidance on mana control or combat technique.
She knew it would carry the weight of proximity, of quiet tension, of trust placed in a young man who could easily sway the room, sway her. And the knowledge made her pulse quicken all over again.
Outside, Jae walked calmly down the corridor, steps measured and relaxed, lips curved faintly in that smirk he reserved for moments like this. He had seen the hesitation, the small cracks in her composure, the blush that colored her cheeks and the way her hands fumbled slightly with the papers.
He had observed it quietly, without comment, letting her reveal herself in small, imperceptible ways. He knew she had tried to resist, to maintain her boundaries, but she had still chosen him, agreed to meet him tomorrow, alone.
And that was enough for now.