Ophelia's Delightful Quartet / The Wonderful Promisel of Sunday

"..."

"..."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ophelia asked, her expression displeased.

"Didn't you say it yourself?" Ian countered, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"As long as it's Sunday, I can come to you, right?"

"Heh."

Ian couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ophelia-san, didn't you realize that was just polite talk?"

"What?"

Ophelia was taken aback.

"You were lying to me?"

"Whether I was lying or not is another matter, Ophelia-san, but do you really want me to stay?" Ian asked, his eyes holding a teasing glint.

"..."

Looking into Ian's eyes, Ophelia realized she had been played by him.

The promise was real, but she had to ask him to stay herself.

"Fine, I guess not." Ophelia huffed, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Then I won't disturb you any longer, Ophelia-san," Ian said, turning towards the door.

Knowing full well that Ian was using a feigned retreat, Ophelia couldn't help but reach out and stop him.

"Hold on!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm.

"I do want you to stay, alright?!" she admitted, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"That's different then," Ian said, turning back to face her, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Since Ophelia-san has spoken," he continued, his voice laced with amusement, "then I have no choice but to stay."

"However—" he paused, his gaze becoming more intense.

"Ophelia-san, what exactly do you plan for me to do while I stay?"

"..."

Ophelia turned her face away, a blush creeping up her neck.

"Ian, are you asking even though you already know?" she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

No sooner had she spoken those words than the top student magus felt a sudden impact.

By the time she regained her senses, she found herself pinned against the wall, Ian's hands on either side of her head.

It was an almost identical scene to the one Ian had described from his experience with Mashu in the bathroom.

"Is this all you know?" Ophelia asked, leaning against the wall, looking at the man before her with a hint of disdain.

"Using the same trick you used on Mashu on me?"

"Of course not," Ian replied, his gaze fixed on Ophelia.

"However, to improve Ophelia-san's impression of me," he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"This time—" he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"Could I please ask Ophelia-san to take the initiative and reveal herself to me?"

"You..."

The top student magus turned her head to the side, a hint of disappointment in her tone rather than reproach.

"If you don't take the initiative yourself, I think you'll regret it," she said softly, her eyes flickering towards his.

However, Ian wasn't the kind of person whose mind could be changed with a few words.

He smiled faintly and shook his head.

"No, Ophelia-san."

"I won't regret it, so please, take the initiative yourself."

"You just wait... you'll definitely feel like you missed out on something," Ophelia retorted, a playful glint in her eyes.

Meeting the man's gaze, Ophelia began to display her "sincerity".

First, the belt around her waist.

Then, the butterfly knot at her neck.

Next came the uniform dress.

One by one, the pieces of clothing fell to the floor, and Ian gradually understood what she meant by "missed out"—naked.

"It's completely empty inside," Ian observed, raising an eyebrow.

"I told you," Ophelia replied, her face flushed.

"You'll miss out on the surprise of unwrapping the gift."

"Pfft." Ian couldn't help but laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" Ophelia grumbled, looking slightly embarrassed.

"You didn't reply to my messages... so I could only prepare my outfit based on our last experience."

"But I don't recall ever saying that I liked seeing Ophelia-san naked, did I?" Ian asked, a teasing smile on his face.

He gently lifted her chin with his fingers.

"Isn't it just that Ophelia-san herself likes doing this?"

"..."

Once again, a critical hit with his words.

Ophelia couldn't come up with a retort for a long time.

However, Ian didn't intend to press the issue.

He leaned closer to her and whispered softly in her ear.

"Thank you, Ophelia, no matter what."

"..."

Ophelia, who had been thanked, felt a mix of emotions.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should respond to Ian's words.

But soon—

She knew it wasn't necessary.

Because that was just an opening.

Ophelia felt a shiver run down her spine.

She saw Ian's hand had already moved to the area below them.

"Ophelia-san's place is as clean as ever," Ian remarked, his voice low and husky.

"It seems you've indeed been taking good care of yourself since then."

"Isn't that obvious?" Ophelia turned her face away, but she didn't resist Ian's touch.

"If I didn't clean it up myself... you'd definitely want to shave it all off again right now, wouldn't you?"

"You really know me well," Ian said, gently caressing Ophelia's clean garden.

"I can't help it."

"Who told Ophelia-san to have such perfect pigeon egg?"

"You..."

Ophelia couldn't refute that description at all.

Because it was indeed a perfect description of the shape that his fingertips were currently touching.

"Do you just enjoy evaluating my body?" she asked, her voice slightly trembling.

"Because it's indeed very interesting," Ian replied, his fingers now tracing the contours of her cheek.

"The usually aloof and incredibly talented magus has another side to her that no one knows about in private."

"Just thinking about it is exciting, isn't it?"

"However—" Ian leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers.

"More than that, there's something else I want to know."

Ian brought his face closer to Ophelia's until they could feel each other's breath.

"Ophelia-san, why do you dislike Sundays so much?"

"Why are you asking me this?" Ophelia looked directly into his eyes.

"Are you worried about me?"

"You could say that," Ian met her gaze steadily.

"After all, I need to understand why you dislike this day so much, right?"

"Is it that important?"

"It's quite important."

"...But what if I don't want to say?"

"Then—" Ian looked around the room, finally settling his gaze on a certain table.

"I'll just have to make Ophelia-san evaporate some of her rationality first."

"What?"

Before Ophelia could fully comprehend the meaning of Ian's words, he had already lifted her into his arms and carried her to the table.

She had no power to resist him.

Not only did he possess an absolute advantage in terms of physical strength, but for some unknown reason, he was also completely immune to her Mystic Eyes.

Ian held Ophelia from behind, slowly guiding her body towards the table.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Ophelia exclaimed, sensing something was amiss.

"Nothing much," Ian's voice echoed in her ear.

"Didn't Ophelia-san just say that I only know one trick?"

"But that's not actually the case—at least I think I can make you feel four different kinds of pleasure at the same time."

"So—"

"Ophelia-san, your crazy Sunday is about to begin."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ophelia felt her body arch forward slightly.

The magus's clitoris, which had been meticulously cleaned in anticipation of Ian's manual cleaning, were pressed directly against the corner of the table.

She immediately realized that this was no accident.

He had calculated the angle perfectly to bring her body to this position.

As the corner of the table rubbed against her clitoris, Ophelia immediately felt her mind go dizzy—the pressure was almost like self-stimulation.

This was an extremely embarrassing situation.

As a magus, to reach this level of excitement because of a table corner.

"You..."

Ophelia wanted to say something while she still had some sanity left, but she lost that right.

Because Ian kissed her.

Or rather, it shouldn't be called a kiss.

It was merely a lip contact intended to deprive her of the ability to speak—forcing Ophelia to tilt her head back.

But that wasn't the end.

Ian's hand also moved up to the top student magus's chest at this moment.

His fingers roamed over the most sensitive spots, teasing the red points on her fair skin again and again.

Then, with a slightly rough movement, he pinched one of them, kneading it like dough, changing it into various shapes, and then gently releasing it, letting everything start over.

Ophelia's body was trembling.

She could no longer distinguish which part of her was causing this tremor.

Her lips?

Her chest?

Or was it down there?

Whichever it was, it was deadly.

She could feel her body was no longer entirely her own.

However—

Ophelia used her remaining sanity to think of a question.

Wasn't it supposed to be four kinds?

Where was the last one?

Just as the young magus was racking her brain, the answer approached little by little.

It was the location of her back garden.

The fiery hunter inserted his rod.

The resistance that should have been there was completely gone due to her body's relaxation.

The back garden had been invaded just like that.

Ophelia's entire body began to experience a pleasure she had never felt before.

Her clitoris being ruthlessly ravaged by the table corner.

Her breasts being kneaded into various shapes.

And her lips being sealed.

And...

Her back garden being completely occupied.

The genius magus was played with like this, losing her sanity bit by bit.

Ian looked at Ophelia, who was completely at his mercy, and a smile appeared on his face.

After a period of madness.

Inside the bathroom.

Ian and Ophelia were taking a hot shower.

The former's expression was still calm, while the latter was shivering slightly.

"Ophelia-san, I kept my promise," Ian said, his voice gentle.

"You!"

Ophelia stopped mid-sentence—she had completely lost the sharp edge she had before.

"Why didn't you tell me beforehand that you would use so many places?" she mumbled, her voice still a bit shaky.

"Ah—!"

Ian imitated Ophelia's earlier tone.

"Isn't this replicating the surprise you mentioned?"

"..."

Ophelia looked like she wanted to argue with Ian.

But in front of him, she seemed completely unable to make any sense.

Faced with this scene, Ian chuckled and then picked up the showerhead to rinse Ophelia's body.

"Just kidding."

"I just wanted to prove that I will definitely do what I promised."

"Ophelia-san, if you didn't like it, then just consider it my offense."

"...Increase the pressure," Ophelia suddenly said.

Ian couldn't quite believe what he had heard.

"Ophelia-san, what did you say?"

"I said."

The top student magus looked up at the man.

"Next time, increase the pressure for me."

"I just like this state where my head is completely blank and I can't remember anything."

"..."

"..."

The atmosphere in the bathroom became a bit quiet.

Only the sound of water flowing from the showerhead, falling onto the clean floor, could be heard.

Ian didn't speak, but simply nodded silently.

But Ophelia didn't seem to want to remain silent.

She continued,

"Ian, didn't you ask me earlier why I hate Sundays?"

"Yes, but... if you don't want to say, then just pretend I never asked."

"No, I want to talk about it now."

Ophelia looked at the mirror, which was blurred by the steam, her expression somewhat complicated.

"Actually, it's not Sunday that I hate."

"It's... that feeling of being unable to escape."

"My parents would meet with me on Sundays, and they would tell me how I should become an excellent student and then how I should make my own contributions to the family."

"I know what they say is right... but I just can't accept it all."

"Then that just means what they're saying isn't right," Ian suddenly interrupted Ophelia's words at this moment.

"W-what?" The top student magus looked at the man in confusion. "How could what they say be wrong?"

"Of course, it's wrong."

Ian reached out and wiped the mist from the mirror.

"Why does everyone have to become a good student? And why does everyone have to make their own contributions to the family?"

"Because I'm a magus!"

"Then does that mean magi must do such things?"

Ian looked at Ophelia's body in the mirror.

"To put it further, if they don't do such things, can they not be called magi?"

"That's clearly not the case, is it?"

"That's twisted logic," Ophelia turned her face away. "No magus wouldn't want to revitalize their own family."

"Indeed, it is twisted logic," Ian didn't hide the flawed nature of his words.

"But since you can't accept this kind of thing, and you've even started wanting to escape it."

"Then is so-called righteous logic really better than my twisted logic?"

"Ophelia, you have the right to refuse some things."

"You can avoid those things that aren't absolutely necessary and just live for yourself."

"..."

Ophelia's pupils widened slightly—she seemed to understand something.

"Live for myself... like you are now?"

"It's not wrong for you to think that way—at least I wouldn't mind."

"Then what kind of relationship do we have now?" Ophelia then asked the next question.

"A friendly relationship where we use physical interaction to complete the mutual physical and psychological comfort of each other, thereby releasing stress."

"You could also call it friends with benefits," Ian gave the standard answer directly.

"I don't understand," Ophelia moved a little closer to the man's body.

"But it sounds pretty good."

"Let's do this every Sunday from now on."

"...If you don't mind, that's fine with me," Ian replied.

"Of course, I don't mind," Ophelia felt the warmth of the man's body.

"But don't tell Mashu about what happened today."

"I... I don't want her to know."

"And—" Ophelia's voice grew softer.

"Remember to use protection next time."

"Speaking of which, can't magic solve this kind of thing? It's very uncomfortable to wear."

"You have a point... then I'll look into it," Ophelia said, smiling faintly for the first time.

Ian's friend with benefits?

What a strange title.

But she knew that because of this identity, she would never dislike Sundays again from this day forward.