The moment the word 'Execution' left the instructor's mouth, the gymnasium exploded into motion. Students began pairing up, testing their weapons, and stretching. Aya turned to me, her mouth opening to launch into what I assumed would be a fifteen minute lecture on the tactical advantages of Water Fire hybrids in close quarters combat, but she was cut off by a voice that sounded like it had been dipped in vinegar.
"Ellen Frost?"
The voice was sharp, arrogant, and dripping with that special kind of disdain that only comes from someone who thinks their family tree is a holy relic.
"I heard you were acting like you were above us. I will teach you where your place is, you commoner."
I slowly turned around. Standing there was a girl with vivid green hair and piercing red eyes. She was wearing her uniform with an almost aggressive level of neatness, her chin tilted up in a way that screamed 'I am better than you,' but her eyes gave her away. They weren't angry; they were green with pure, unadulterated jealousy.
Before I could even process the cliché of the 'Arrogant Noble Girl' encounter, [Inspector Eye] pinged.
[Laila Evergreen | Rank: E+ | Beauty: A | Fetish: Masochism]
I blinked. My first instinct wasn't fear or annoyance. It was genuine, scientific curiosity.
Masochism? Really? I thought. First the heroines, now the random NPCs are walking around with fetishes listed on their foreheads. Is this a world or a very poorly curated adult website?
But then a thought struck me. If the System gave me data on people who weren't even main characters, that meant the world was deeper than the game's script. I could find more targets. I could manufacture more heroines. I could take random jealous assholes, give them a taste of Jin's attention, and watch them become new engines for SP.
I'm not just a puppet master; I'm a talent scout.
"So you want to fight me?" I said. Thanks to [Expression Suppression], my voice came out perfectly flat, perfectly bored, and utterly unimpressed. I didn't even bother to flinch at her 'commoner' insult. "And... who exactly are you?"
Laila's face flushed a deeper shade of red. "How dare you be so disrespectful! I am Laila Evergreen of the Evergreen House! My family has supplied the Central Government for three generations, and you "
"Evergreen, huh?" I interrupted, tilting my head slightly. "Okay, Laila. Nice to meet you. Now, are we going to stand here discussing your family tree, or are we actually going to fight?"
I could see her jaw clench. She was clearly expecting me to be intimidated, or at least flustered. Instead, she was getting a girl who looked like she was waiting for a bus.
Come on, Laila, I thought, a small, predatory part of my brain already calculating. Show me something. Show me that E+ rank mana. Show me why the system thinks you're worth noting. Because if you're a masochist, this might be the most entertaining spar I've ever had.
We stood facing each other, ten footsteps of polished gymnasium floor between us.
Laila drew her rapier with a flourish that was clearly practiced in front of a mirror the kind of dramatic sweep that said 'my fencing tutor charged my father a lot of money for this.' She leveled the blade at me and began her monologue.
"You stand before the pride of the Evergreen House! My wind affinity has been refined by private instructors since I could walk! Prepare yourself, commoner, for the gap between our breeding is insurmountable!"
Is she... is she gathering wind at her feet? I watched mana swirl around her ankles in a visible spiral. She's narrating her own power set. Out loud. To her opponent. Does she think this is a theatrical performance? 'Behold my wind affinity' girl, I can SEE it. It's literally swirling around your ankles like a portable fan.
Okay. Focus. Business time.
I gathered mana around my entire body, letting it flow into my muscles, reinforcing my frame the way I'd practiced for three days now. It flowed as easily as breathing this body's instincts were genuinely frighteningly good but there was a difference between mana control and battle sense. Knowing how to fight and knowing how to fight were separated by experience. And I dearly, desperately hoped that original Ellen's combat instincts were still baked into this body's muscle memory like some kind of spiritual firmware.
Because let's be honest. This girl might be a future onahole waiting to be consumed by the plot, but she knew how to fight. The game gave every character at least that much. Don't underestimate her just because she monologues.
"Come, then!" Laila declared. "I shall end this in one move!"
Please don't end this in one move. I need at least thirty seconds of data before I know what I'm doing.
She kicked off.
Wind compressed beneath her feet and she launched a burst of speed that carried her across the ten footsteps in a blink, rapier thrusting straight for my chest, the blade humming with condensed air pressure.
And internally, thanks to [Expression Suppression] holding my face in perfect neutral, I frowned.
...Slow.
She was slow.
Not 'beginner slow.' Slow in the way that someone who has never faced real resistance is slow telegraphed, committed, with a straight line trajectory and no feint. Her footwork was textbook. Her thrust was textbook. It was all textbook, and textbooks don't dodge.
I stepped aside.
Just a single, economical step to the left. Her rapier passed through the space my chest had occupied a half second earlier, the wind pressure parting the air beside my shoulder with a soft whump.
Laila blew past me, skidding on her wind cushioned feet, spinning around with an expression of pure outrage.
"You you DODGED?!"
"No," I said flatly. "You missed."
"Those are the same thing!"
"They're really not."
Okay. Good news: I have battle sense. Or at least, I have enough of it to sidestep an E+ rank charge without embarrassing myself. Original Ellen's firmware is intact. Thank you, dead girl. Your body is in responsible hands. Mostly.
Bad news: I've now publicly dodged an arrogant noblewoman and she's going to escalate. Which means this fight is about to get less 'textbook fencing' and more 'actual mana output.'
Fine. Let's see what this body can really do.
I raised one hand, and ice began to crystallize in the air above my palm a single, ornate spear of frost, forming shard by shard with a sound like a freezing lake cracking.
"Round two, Evergreen," I said, my voice cold enough to match my element. "Try not to narrate this time."
Across the gymnasium, I noticed briefly that a certain pair of green eyes from Class A had turned in our direction.
***
The next two hours had been excellent. For me. Exclusively for me.
I turned the gymnasium into my personal testing laboratory, with Laila Evergreen as the very vocal, very sweaty test subject. I launched ice spears at varying speeds, watching her dodge, weave, and gasp. I froze the ground beneath her feet and watched her slip with aristocratic indignation. I raised ice walls to cut off her escape routes and herded her around the arena like a very expensive sheepdog.
I could have ended it in the first minute. But that would've been pointless. This entire session was a field test: can I actually fight?
The results were in, and I was pleased to announce that whatever battle experience original Ellen had possessed, it appeared to have come pre installed in this body's muscle memory. The footwork, the timing, the spatial awareness it all came naturally, like recalling a language I'd never formally studied.
Along with that fucking body, of course. But hey! One bad inheritance for one good one. Fair trade. Probably.
After thoroughly playing with my spells, I shifted to pure footwork and evasion, reinforcing my body with mana and dodging everything Laila threw at me while she got progressively more winded and progressively more furious. Her red eyes had that fascinating look of a masochist being thoroughly dominated noted for later, Laila. Noted for later.
Finally, I decided to conclude.
"Alright, that was fun," I said and slammed my leg up into her stomach.
The kick connected with a satisfying thud, and Laila went flying across the gymnasium, tumbling before skidding to a halt, coughing and wheezing as she tried to remember how lungs worked. She collapsed dramatically. Victory. Test complete. Data collected.
Did I go too strong? I tilted my head, evaluating my own performance.
And then I noticed the gazes.
Not on Laila. Not on my ice work.
On my leg.
I froze mid pose, leg still raised in the air from the kick.
...Oh no.
OH NO.
Why did you kick HIGH, Ellen?! WHY?! I'm wearing a skirt! A skirt that, on this body, barely qualifies as legal clothing! A high kick on a girl with hips like mine doesn't just kick it's a PEAK SHOW! Every single person in this gymnasium just got a front row viewing of
The black thong. Today's underwear of choice. THANK you, original Ellen, for your exclusively thong based wardrobe. THANK you. Half the first year just audited my crotch and I can't even BLUSH about it because my face is a frozen monument to indifference!
I rapidly, smoothly too smoothly to be natural, probably looked like a robot correcting a glitch lowered my leg back to the ground. Outside: bored, unbothered, victorious. Inside: full scale emergency broadcast.
Stay calm. Stay bored. Nobody can tell. Expression Suppression is a masterpiece. I am a fortress. I am
Wait.
Wait wait wait.
I felt it. A distinct, unmistakable warmth at my crotch. A slickness. A definite, physical, biological EVENT happening in my underwear.
What?????????
I can get WET?! Even WITH Expression Suppression?! The skill suppresses all visible physiological responses flushing, trembling, vocal stress and it just lets the DOWNSTAIRS do whatever it wants?! That's not suppression, that's SELECTIVE CENSORSHIP! You censored my FACE but gave my body a free pass?!
UNFAIR! SYSTEM! I DEMAND REIMBURSEMENT! I paid three thousand SP for full coverage and you delivered a product with a HOLE IN IT! Where's the fine print?! Where's the disclaimer?! 'Suppresses all visible responses' they're not visible under a SKIRT, are they?! NOBODY TOLD ME THE SKIRT WAS OUTSIDE THE WARRANTY!
...Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. The skill probably considers 'arousal' an internal state. Internal states are explicitly not affected. I read the description. I READ the description. This is my fault. I'm a business major. I should have read the contract terms.
...I'm going to need a change of underwear. And possibly a new philosophy of life.
I walked calmly, regally, like a conquering ice queen toward Laila's groaning form, offering her exactly zero sympathy.
"Good match," I said flatly, extending a hand.
From across the gymnasium, I could feel it. More gazes. Including, briefly, a pair of green ones.
Jin saw the kick too. Wonderful. The protagonist just received a free fan service scene and I can't even charge him for it.
Note for the ledger: buy shorts. Buy LONG shorts. Or pants. Or a full plate armor skirt hybrid.
And note two: the arousal leak. Test it. Understand it. Because if my body can get wet without my face showing it... then in the future, when a Conqueror's hands are on me and my mask holds perfectly...
...Nobody will know I'm enjoying it except me.
...That's either a curse or a superpower. I genuinely cannot tell which yet.