The school uniforms Wendy and Astreia wore were the ones they had changed into earlier while resting at the inn.
The uniform design of the Central Continent Academy possessed a peculiar beauty, blending a sense of asceticism with openness.
The male version consisted of an ivory, waist-cinching shirt paired with a dark brown short vest and suspender shorts, with a slim, forest-green tie fastened at the collar.
The hem of the shorts stopped just above the knee, fully revealing the young man’s slender, pale calves and rounded knees.
On his feet were white cotton socks that reached mid-calf and small brown leather shoes.
This outfit made the Prince look like an exquisite and fragile porcelain doll—tempting one to cherish him, but even more so, tempting one to… break him.
While the upper body of the female version was similar to the male’s, the lower half boldly featured a high-waisted pleated miniskirt.
The hem was extremely short, barely covering the base of the thighs.
Paired with over-the-knee black stockings, it unreservedly showcased the girl’s youthful vitality and the stunning curves of her legs.
The person who designed this school uniform was surely an old pervert who knew his way around such things.
At this moment, Astreia sat astride him, pushing the advantages of her “battle-ready” uniform to the limit.
Wendy did not even need to look down to feel the explosive lines of her legs, wrapped in black silk, pressed tightly against his waist.
The elasticity was incredible, and her temperature was scalding.
This physical sensation, which struck precisely at his XP, sent his heart rate into disarray once more.
Click.
The third button popped open under Astreia’s slightly frantic fingertips.
She no longer seemed satisfied with the slow rhythm of unbuttoning them one by one.
Her lily-white fingers gripped Wendy’s open collar, intending to tear it apart to the sides.
A smile of victory had already begun to bloom on her lips.
However, a moment before Astreia exerted her strength, Wendy moved.
He did not resist, nor did he push her away.
Instead, he proactively raised both hands to meet her.
Under the Witch’s slightly surprised gaze, the Prince’s fingers nimbly slid through hers, locking their ten fingers together.
Their palms pressed against each other, their body heat merging.
Astreia’s movements stagnated for an instant due to this unexpected intimate gesture.
She could feel that the Prince’s palms were burning hot, even dampened with fine beads of sweat; he was clearly nervous to the extreme.
Yet, his gaze was terrifyingly calm.
In those deep blue peach blossom eyes, there was no panic, no fear—only a bottomless clarity that seemed capable of sucking one’s soul inside.
“Astreia,” Wendy spoke.
His voice was not loud, but it carried a strange sense of composure.
“As a Guardian, when the Master is in danger, shouldn’t I offer everything to purify her? Isn’t that right?”
The Prince repeated the same warped logic she had just used.
“…Yes,” Astreia answered subconsciously.
In her vivid purple Witch’s Pupils, the vortex swirled even more frantically, as if something were slipping out of her control.
“But…”
Wendy smiled and tightened his grip on the Witch’s hands.
With a slight exert of strength, he stopped her from tearing his clothes.
This amount of strength was negligible to Astreia, but for some inexplicable reason, she did not break free.
“It is daytime, so…”
The Prince leaned in close to the Witch’s ear, his warm breath blowing against her earlobe as he spoke one word at a time.
“The method of purification should be initiated by me, the ‘Guardian’.”
“Right~?”
Boom!
These words were like a depth charge dropped into the lake of the Witch’s heart, instantly blasting open the floodgates of her memory.
Astreia froze entirely.
She suddenly recalled that misty night in the Royal Palace, by that massive bathhouse.
She had lain on the lounge chair like a sacrifice, allowing the Prince to use various inconceivable methods to perform that “Sacrifice Game” known as “purification.”
The wonderful physical sensation of her soul and body being completely dominated, a mix of shame and pleasure, immediately surged through her entire being.
Her brain, which had been filled with the desire for conquest and possessiveness, was instantly occupied by another emotion—one more turbulent and more bewildering.
The eerie purple in her eyes receded like a low tide, revealing the clear, flustered emerald green beneath.
Her cheeks reddened from her ears down to her neck at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Her heartbeat was no longer the oppressive thumping of her Witch State, but had returned to the frantic, deer-like racing that belonged to Astreia Valoran.
The positions of attacker and defender were instantly reversed.
“You…”
Astreia wanted to say something, but her throat was so dry she couldn’t produce a full syllable.
Looking at the Princess Royal before him—who had been aggressive just a moment ago but now had dazed eyes and a disrupted breathing rhythm—the curve of Wendy’s lips rose further.
He knew he had won the gamble again.
When dealing with Astreia in her Witch State, blind resistance and escape would only stimulate her desire for conquest.
The only way was to follow her logic and use a temptation she could not refuse to drag her back from the Witch’s throne to the pure, innocent “Astreia” who belonged to him.
“Your Highness.”
Wendy released her hands and instead gently stroked her burning cheek, his voice soft enough to drip with water.
“Since you have been afflicted by such a dangerous ‘Curse’, then as your most loyal Guardian, I must begin the purification ritual immediately.”
As he spoke, he used his thumb to gently rub her red lips, which were trembling slightly from tension.
“To ensure the effectiveness of the purification, please enjoy yourself. Do not make a sound, and certainly do not resist.”
Wendy’s smile deepened.
“Otherwise, the ‘Curse’ might deepen~”
These words were almost an exact repetition of the lines Astreia had used earlier.
Astreia’s body trembled even more violently.
How could she not understand?
Her carefully laid hunting trap had turned into a love nest he had tailor-made for her.
She was the prey about to be “purified.”
But… but she couldn’t summon even a shred of a thought to resist.
In fact, deep in her heart, there was a secret sliver of expectation that she was even too ashamed to admit to herself.
Wendy admired her “ready-to-be-plucked” appearance, his heart filled with the pleasure of a successful prank.
He gently lifted one of the Princess’s long, beautiful legs, resting the line wrapped in black silk over the crook of his arm.
Through the thin layer of the stocking, he felt the smooth muscle and the heat beneath her skin.
His gaze followed the graceful curve all the way down, finally stopping at her ankle clad in a small leather shoe.
Then, as Astreia’s breath suddenly hitched, the Prince slowly leaned down.
His warm breath passed through the stocking, puffing gently against that exquisite ankle.
Astreia shuddered, her toes subconsciously curling.
She was like a startled cat, a layer of mist instantly veiling her emerald, star-like eyes.
“Don’t move, Your Highness.”
The Prince’s voice held a hint of seductive laughter.
“The purification… has only just begun.”
“First, we must start from the place most heavily polluted by the Curse…”
His lips gently pressed against her.