The classroom smelled like sweat, charred fabric, and desperation.
Miss Silvia stood near the front, fanning herself with a test paper, her tight white jacket clinging to her chest from a recent spark burst. A red mark still smoked on the target wall, and one girl in the second row had singed the hem of her skirt trying to launch a mana pulse.
"Alright," Silvia called out, her voice bright but brittle. "Eva, you're up. Spell control drill — center mark."
Eva stood, tugging down the back of her skirt with one hand as it clung tight to her ass. Her thick thighs flexed as she stepped out from her desk, her breasts bouncing subtly under the too-tight uniform blouse. She didn't speak, just adjusted the large blue bow on her head and walked to the front — each sway of her hips earning quiet glances.
Lor slouched in the back row, elbow on his desk, chin resting on his palm, eyes half-lidded.
Viora snorted under her breath. "Watch her overshoot again."
"Or burn a hole through her own boobs," Myra murmured, loud enough for only a few to hear.
Eva took her stance. Her blouse was clinging — tight enough to show the slight indent between her breasts, the buttons straining at the top. Her chest rose slowly as she inhaled — not shallow, but deep. Low. Exactly how Lor had shown her.
Fingertips steady, she raised her hand.
The air shimmered.
A soft flick of pressure darted forward — barely visible mana — and struck the dummy square in the center. Not powerful. But dead-on.
Silence.
Then the faintest rustle of skirts as a few girls sat up straighter.
Miss Silvia blinked behind her fogged glasses. "Eva… that was…" She flipped a page on her clipboard. "That was centered."
Eva looked just as surprised.
"I didn't even push hard," she murmured.
Lor smirked faintly, still watching her hips more than her technique.
"Olivia," Silvia called. "Let's see if you can follow that."
From the third row, Olivia stood. Her short, tight tunic blouse was clearly one size too small — the fabric clinging to her heavy breasts, especially where it rose slightly as she walked. Her slim charcoal pants hugged every curve of her hips and thighs, the fabric smoothing like a second skin over her ass.
She stepped into position, glancing sideways at Eva.
Eva smirked.
Olivia lifted her hand.
Her breathing was soft, barely moving her shoulders. Her boobs shifted gently beneath the blouse with each breath — slower than usual. She didn't huff, didn't strain.
Lor saw it immediately — chest relaxed, channeling from her core.
The pressure hit the dummy's upper chest — clean. Slightly higher than Eva's, but more stable.
"Ooooh!" Silvia clasped her hands, bouncing on her heels. Her breasts jiggled slightly under the white fabric, and she didn't seem to notice. "Two direct hits in a row! From Class D!"
The class buzzed.
Olivia's eyes flicked toward Lor. She didn't smile. But her cheeks were faintly pink.
Eva crossed her arms, pushing her bust forward, nostrils flaring.
"Next," Silvia called, flipping her clipboard again, "is… Nellie."
A soft whimper.
From the far corner, a tiny girl stood up. Twin braids bounced behind her as she moved — stiff, robotic. Her uniform blouse was baggy, but even under it, her petite chest barely filled the fabric. Her skirt clung to skinny thighs, knees knocking with each nervous step.
She shuffled forward, glasses slipping.
The class quieted.
Nellie raised one trembling hand.
Her other hand stayed clenched at her side.
She took a breath.
Then a sharp crack — not from a spell. From her knees buckling slightly as she accidentally stepped on her own foot. Her magic sputtered, fizzled, and sparked in her palm — and then died with a pathetic pop.
One girl giggled in the front. Another whispered, "Again?"
Silvia stepped forward. "It's okay, Nellie. You can try again."
Nellie didn't speak. She turned, head down, and walked back to her desk, twin braids drooping like soaked strings. Her skirt bunched awkwardly at the back, clinging to her thighs.
As she passed Lor, she didn't look up.
But her voice, barely above a breath, slipped sideways in his direction:
"…Can I come to you after class?"
Lor didn't look at her.
But his fingers, under the desk, slowly drew a tiny cat paw beside the words:
"Study Plan: Braids Girl."
Then added a tail.Then smiled.