Miss isabella

Kevin froze under the woman's sultry stare, his mind racing to place her.

Those piercing hazel eyes, that mischievous smile, the sleek fall of her black hair—it clicked.

She had to be Miss Isabella, a figure burned into his memory from the cover of Lilith's Academy: Yuri Nights.

On the game box, she'd worn a mask over the upper half of her face, a black leather domino that left only her smirking lips and sharp gaze visible.

Her outfit had been pure S&M fantasy: a tight, glossy corset that cinched her waist and pushed up her ample chest, the plunging neckline barely containing her curves.

Thigh-high boots hugged her legs, laced up the sides, and a whip dangled from her hand, its coiled length promising both threat and allure.

The woman before him now was tamer—pencil skirt, blouse, professional veneer—but the resemblance was undeniable.

She was Kaori's class teacher, Miss Isabella, and Kevin's stomach twisted with a mix of dread and recognition.

He gulped, forcing out a shaky, "Good morning, Miss Isabella," before ducking back into the classroom.

Head down, he avoided every pair of eyes boring into him.

The room buzzed with the chatter of girls—hot, confident, their presence overwhelming—but he couldn't risk meeting their gazes.

What if one of them was another character from the game, someone he'd regret crossing paths with?

He aimed for the back, hoping to disappear into a corner seat, but the classroom betrayed him.

Every desk in the rear was taken, leaving only one spot open: front and center, right under the teacher's nose.

Kevin swallowed hard again, his throat dry as he shuffled forward.

Miss Isabella's heels clicked against the floor as she followed him in, her voice cutting through the hum of the room.

"Kaori, why were you roaming around? Sit down—I have a class to start."

Her tone was firm, but that sultry edge lingered, making his skin prickle.

He obeyed, sliding into the empty seat without a word.

So far, he'd managed to keep his eyes fixed on the desk, avoiding his classmates entirely.

Now, though, Miss Isabella stood directly ahead, her presence impossible to ignore.

She was sexy—terrifyingly so—her curvy figure accentuated by the way she leaned against the podium, one hip cocked, her blouse straining faintly over her chest.

But there was something scary too: the way her eyes glinted, like she knew more than she let on, like she could unravel him with a single glance.

The class began, and to Kevin's surprise, the subjects weren't unbearable.

Literature, a bit of history—nothing too hard, nothing too easy.

Miss Isabella taught with a smooth, engaging cadence, her voice weaving through the material with a confidence that almost distracted him from his nerves.

Almost.

Every few minutes, her gaze would drift to him, lingering a beat too long, and he'd duck his head, staring at his notebook as heat crept up his neck.

Was she sizing him up?

Toying with him?

He couldn't tell, but each look left him fidgeting, his pen tapping nervously against the page.

Time crawled until the clock finally signaled the end of the morning lessons—lunch was near.

As the other girls started packing up, Miss Isabella's voice rang out again, crisp and directed.

"Kaori, I'd like you to meet me in my room after class."

Kevin's stomach dropped, but he nodded, managing a quiet, "Yes."

She swept out of the room first, her skirt swaying with each step, and Kevin followed, his feet dragging as he trailed her through the winding halls.

The academy's gothic architecture loomed around him—high ceilings, shadowed corners, the faint echo of voices fading behind.

She led him to a door tucked at the end of a corridor, unmarked and unassuming.

Miss Isabella stepped inside, disappearing into the dimness, and Kevin hesitated, his hand hovering over the knob.

Something felt off, but he couldn't back out now—not with her expecting him.

He took a breath and stepped in.

The room was dark—unnaturally so, the air thick and still.

Before he could adjust, the door slammed shut behind him with a heavy thud, plunging him into blackness.

"What—" he gasped, spinning around to grope for the handle.

His hands found the wood, but it wouldn't budge.

He banged on it, fists thudding against the surface, his voice rising in a panicked shout.

"Hey! Let me out!"

The darkness swallowed his words, and the silence pressed in, unbroken except for the pounding of his own heart.

He was alone in this darkness—no wait! he wasn't?