Academy's Pervert in the D Class

Chapter 327: The Weeknd Evening 3

"My Grandfather"Aurora said nothing. She simply watched him.

"He was a wandering mage," Lor said.

"Before he settled. Spent years moving through different regions — helping people, learning things that weren’t in any academy curriculum. He discovered the Guiding Light himself. Developed it. Passed it to me secretly before he died." He paused. "It’s not in any records because he never registered it. He didn’t trust anyone expect me with it."

Aurora looked at him for a long, quiet moment.

The smile did not change.

Then she straightened from the table. The movement was smooth. The corset held her upper body in a clean, upright line. Her breasts shifted slightly under the black fabric as she stood.

"Your grandfather," she said, her voice still pleasant and still warm, "was a drunkard. He sold the family land to pay for his debts and died in a ditch outside the town." She took a step toward him. The heel of her boot clicked once on the stone.

"I have his full record."

She reached out and took hold of his collar.

Her grip started light. Her fingers brushed the side of his neck as they closed on the fabric.

Then the grip tightened. She pulled him forward with an ease that did not match the size of her hands.

The sudden movement forced him a step closer.

His bound arms stayed locked behind him. His chest was now only a short distance from hers. He could feel the warmth coming off her body.

He could smell the faint floral scent on her skin mixed with clean skin and expensive fabric.

When she looked up at him from slightly below eye level, the warmth in her eyes was still there, but something precise and patient had moved forward from behind it.

Her full lips were close enough that he could see the soft texture of them. The silver braid hung between them, brushing lightly against the front of his shirt with every small breath she took.

"Tell me the truth," she said softly.

The fingers on his collar did not shake. They did not dig in with anger. They simply held him in place with the kind of strength that did not need to prove itself.

Lor held her gaze.

Then he spoke.

"I don’t know where it comes from."

She did not move. Her grip stayed exactly where it was. The warm smile was still on her face, but the patience behind her eyes waited without blinking.

"I know that sounds like nothing," he said. His voice was lower now, stripped of the earlier panic.

Something steadier sat in it.

"But it’s the truth. I didn’t learn it. I didn’t inherit it." He paused. "About a years ago I started having a dream. The same one, over and over. A white silhouette. No face. No voice at first. Then eventually it spoke words. Instructions. The rituals and how to channel it." He met her eyes without flinching.

"I don’t know what it was. I don’t know where it came from. I just know it worked."

Months of telling lies had done something to his eyes. The tells were gone.

What remained looked like honesty from every angle — steadier than the truth, quieter than a confession.

The kind of gaze that made people want to believe it because the alternative was too complicated.

Aurora looked into his eyes for a long time.

The room was silent except for the soft crackle of the torches. The chains on the far wall hung without moving. The floral scent hung between them.

Her fingers stayed locked in the fabric of his collar. He could feel the heat of her hand through the cloth. He could see the soft rise of her breasts under the black corset with every quiet breath she took.

Then she released his collar.

A small push backward — measured, not cruel, not gentle.

With his hands still bound he lost his footing and went down. His shoulder and then his cheek hit the cold stone floor.

The impact sent a short jolt through his body. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the arched ceiling.

The cold of the floor soaked into his skin. The cord at his wrists still held his arms behind his back.

Aurora’s heels clicked twice as she turned.

"Get up," she said.

The warmth was back in her voice, complete and easy, as if the last thirty seconds had not happened at all.

"I want you to perform it. The Guiding Light ritual." A pause. Then the smile he could hear even without seeing her face.

"Right now. For me."

Lor got up slowly. The cold of the stone floor still clung to his cheek as he straightened.

His shoulders rolled once against the pull of the cord. He faced her.

Aurora was already standing in the centre of the room, waiting.

She looked at him with the same warm, bright eyes.

He looked at her. She looked at him.

"I’ll do it," he said.

Her smile widened just slightly. "I thought you might."

"But I have a question first."

She tilted her head, curious.

"What could a Princess want from a Guiding Light?" Lor asked. His voice was genuine.

"You can have anything. You’re the Princess. Whatever it is you need — power, knowledge, position — you already have the means to get it. So what is it that you want from the Guiding Light?"

A beat.

Aurora’s expression shifted. For a moment something completely different moved across her face.

The warmth was still there, but the precision behind it softened. She looked, briefly, almost genuinely shy.

She pressed her lips together and glanced away. A short, quiet laugh left her throat.

"There are some things," she said, "that a girl cannot say out loud."

She turned back to him.

"I’ll tell the Light directly. Not you." A pause. "It would be too embarrassing."

Lor stared at her.

The Princess of the kingdom.

The Dom Queen of the dungeon.

"Fine," he said.

Aurora reached behind him and untied the cord at his wrists.

The cord fell away.

He rolled his wrists once. Blood returned to his fingers in a warm rush.

"One thing first," Aurora said, tilting her head again. "Is it true? What I’ve heard." A pause. "That the Light asks for — payment. Of a particular kind."