If Honey had one thing to complain about after rebirth, it was the lack of cake.
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"3-E?"
The blond nodded, his purple eyes slightly narrowing as his mind drifted to one annoying redhead.
"Yes, we must put them in their place."
The strawberry blon...
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"This is—"
His honey-brown eyes opened wide in shock. The teen carefully stared at his new discovery. His pupil constricted, his gaze veiled itself with a blend of disbelief and denial.
The sound of Miss Akabane returning brought him out of his stupor. As quickly as he could, he hid his traces, not forgetting to put the keys back in their place. After one last glance, he turned around and scrambled out of the room before carefully exhaling. He plastered a smile on his face, walked down the stairs.
"Ah, Mitsukuni," Miss Akabane greeted when she saw he hadn't gone back. She glanced at the stairs before flicking her mercury eyes back to the teen. "Did you go up to take a nap?"
Mitsukuni beamed, lightly humming.
::
Tense silence settled in the cottage. The smell of sweat mixed with the salty smell of the seaside blended and invaded the students' nose, further plunging them in a dilemma. There was only the light moaning, groaning, and grunting of the practically comatose teens that sometimes broke the silence.
Irina moved, she crouched down to the level of the student closest to her to feel his temperature. Okajima didn't even have the strength to relish in the sensation of her smooth fingertips against his forehead. His dark brown, practically black eyes were misty, his pupils swimming and unfocused as he desperately tried to regulate his breathing and regain his bearing.
Okajima Taiga was a male student, formerly part of the photography club. With short, black hair in a butch cut and thicker brows compared to other students, Okajima's foremost reputation was that of a pervert. His hobbies, apart from photography, were peeping and reading erotic magazines. The boy who would usually jump in joy at the sight of a pair of boobs, now laid motionless against a pillar of the patio.
After feeling his temperature, Irina slid her fingers to the student's neck, gently checking his pulse. She frowned, lightly biting her lower lip as a sense of powerlessness bloomed in her heart. Although she was a professional hitman— hitwoman, Irina specialized in honey-potting. While she sometimes resorted to the use of drugs, she wasn't the one who produced them, and her skills in the art were limited.
For instance, while she knew how to counter the most basic and used poisons and toxins, faced with a poison master like the one who probably targeted them, the chances of creating an antidote were poor. For the first time since joining 3-E, she regretted her past actions.
