stuck

"I'm fucked"

The courtyard's distant clang of sword sparring faded, leaving only the heavy silence between Lor and Olivia.

She stood frozen, her light brown, wavy bob trembling, her hazel eyes wide with fear and glistening with unshed tears.

Her tight shirt clung to her busty chest, her tight pants outlining her curvy hips, but her usual fiery confidence was gone, replaced by a raw, choking despair.

"I'm fucked," she whispered again, her voice barely audible, as if the Class C students' cruel revelation had drained her soul. "I'm stuck in Class D forever."

Lor's black hair fell over his hazel eyes, as he watched her.

Olivia's words echoed the grim truth: no individual could escape Class D, no matter how high they scored.

The whole class had to rise together, a near-impossible task with their selfish and inadequate classmates, and an incompetent teacher.

But where Olivia saw a dead end, Lor saw opportunity.

A classroom full of desperate, curvy girls, all craving the prestige of Class A?

He could do a lot with that.

Hell, if he played his cards right, he could start a cult, his "Guiding Light" the gospel they'd worship.

The thought made his grin twitch, but he kept his face soft, stepping closer.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and steady, "you're not fucked, Olivia. Not yet."

She whipped her head up, tears spilling down her cheeks, her hazel eyes blazing.

"Don't lie to me, Lor! You heard them! It's all a sham—top scores mean nothing! We're trapped with a useless teacher and a class full of selfish idiots who'd rather claw each other down than work together. Class A? That's a pipe dream. I'll never get out of this dump, never make a name for myself!" Her voice cracked, her tight shirt straining as she hugged herself, her curvy figure trembling.

Lor raised his hands, his tone calm but firm.

"I get it. It sucks. But giving up now? That's not you. You're the loudest, most in-your-face girl in Class D. You don't quit—you fight."

Olivia sniffled, her glare softening slightly.

"Fight for what? There's no way we're all getting to Class A. Not with Miss Silvia bumbling through lessons and girls like Kiara hogging the spotlight. Did you know Kiara's spells are stronger than Silvia's? Our teacher can't even keep up with her students!"

Lor's grin flickered, his mind racing. Kiara, the class's brash, spell-slinging star, was a problem—talented but arrogant, more likely to sabotage others than cooperate.

But Olivia's extroverted fire could be the spark Class D needed.

"Forget Silvia for a second," he said, stepping closer, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. "You're not stuck because of her or Kiara. You want Class A? Then start small. You're the one everyone notices—use that. Talk to the others, fire them up, get them to improve. If they see you pushing, they'll follow. Every girl in that room wants Class A's prestige as bad as you do."

Olivia's tears slowed, her hazel eyes narrowing.

"And who's gonna teach us? Silvia? She can't even cast a proper shield spell. I wouldn't trust her to teach a kid to tie their shoes, let alone get us to Class A."

Lor's grin widened, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You don't need Silvia. You've got me." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I'm willing to share my Guiding Light with the class—but only if they keep it secret and trust it. I'm not here to be mocked or antagonized. My power's real, Olivia. You felt it with your fire spells, didn't you? I'm with you. My powers are with you."

Olivia's breath caught, her wavy bob still as she stared at him.

The memory of her brighter, hotter flames—achieved with less mana—flashed through her mind, a result of Lor's strange ritual.

Her hazel eyes flickered with something new: a cautious, fragile hope.

"A Guiding Light," she murmured, almost to herself. "You really think we can do this? All of us?"

"I know we can," Lor said, his tone brimming with charisma, though his mind was already plotting.

A class-wide "Guiding Light" scheme meant more rituals—more chances to savor Class D's curvy girls while boosting their skills.

Eva's math progress, Olivia's spell-casting—his Earth knowledge could turn their weaknesses into strengths, all while keeping his cover as the "useless" boy.

"Start with one girl, then another. Spread the motivation. I'll handle the teaching."

Olivia nodded slowly, wiping her tears, her tight shirt shifting to reveal a glimpse of cleavage as she straightened.

"Okay," she said, her voice steadier. "I'll try. I'll talk to them—Ameth, maybe, or even Kiara if she'll listen."

Before Lor could respond, a shrill bell rang, echoing through the courtyard.

They froze, realizing they'd missed the entire sword practice period.

Olivia's eyes widened, a mix of panic and exhaustion. "Crap, we're so late. It's time to go home."

Lor nodded, his grin softening.

"Keep practicing your spell-casting, Olivia. You're better than you think."

She gave him a small, grateful smile, her hazel eyes still red but determined.

"Thanks, Lor. I mean it." She turned and jogged toward the dorms, her tight pants swishing, her wavy bob bouncing with each step.

Lor watched her go, his mind already shifting gears.

He spun on his heel and headed back to Silvia's office, his steps quick, his hazel eyes glinting with purpose.

He knocked once, then pushed the door open, and froze.