Chapter 39 - Colored Pens

Another day of classes had drawn to a close, the bustling energy of the campus settling into a quieter hum. Our study group had grown—Remuel and Cindy had joined us at the last minute, though it seemed they’d hesitated at first, weighing their decision like one might an uncertain gamble. You see, the pair also registered for the Licensure Examinations Tournament in the very last hour, so they are still quite confused about the study circle thing.

With six of us now, the cramped cafeteria tables no longer sufficed. We opted instead for the Library Building, its lofty halls known for housing long, sturdy rectangular tables perfect for larger groups. Climbing to the third floor, we found our spot among the hushed whispers and the faint scent of aged paper and wood polish that clung to the air. The floor was quieter than the others, the type of silence that invites focus and deters even the faintest of murmurs.

As we settled in, unpacking textbooks and notes onto the smooth surface of the table, a familiar figure approached—a spark of color in the muted library. She was none other than Dianca, the school’s vibrant livestream idol, her long blue hair cascading like silk ribbons down her back, and her emerald eyes sparkling with lively curiosity.

“Oh!” Dianca’s face lit up with the warmth of recognition. “Myrrh! There you are!”

“Dianca!” Myrrh’s eyes widened in delight as she waved, her voice carrying a soft, friendly cadence. “Here!”

Without hesitation, Dianca slipped into the vacant seat beside Myrrh, her arms laden with a small tower of books and notebooks. As she plopped them onto the table, the pile spilled outward like an avalanche. Among the chaos was an arsenal of colorful pens—bright, mismatched hues that spoke of her artistic flair. When she set them down, some pens tumbled free, rolling and scattering like mischievous marbles. Most of them went under the table.

“Ah!” Dianca gasped, flustered, her hands fluttering in mild panic.

“I got it,” I offered quickly, already moving to crouch under the table. The cool surface of the floor met my knees as I searched. But the moment my gaze shifted from the pen, I realized something else had caught my attention—a distraction I hadn’t anticipated.

You see, the university uniform for girls comes with pleated short skirts, and from my vantage point under the table, I had an unobstructed view of a rather... distracting landscape. On my right, Myrrh’s milky white thighs were effortlessly eye-catching, smooth and radiant against the dim light under the table. Beside her were Dianca’s pearly white legs, so pristine they seemed to glow. Yum. Shifting my gaze further to the left, I spotted Fei Xian’s slender legs—graceful and perfectly proportioned. It struck me then: this was a view I wouldn’t mind savoring for a while.

But then there were Cindy’s legs. Muscular, toned, and brimming with raw power, they seemed built for domination. Not to body shame her—far from it—but those legs looked capable of wrestling a bear into submission. The thought lingered for a moment, and I couldn’t help but stifle a smirk.

As I continued my pretense of searching for the pen, half-heartedly poking at shadows, the conversation above began to filter down.

“Everyone, this is Dianca Fritz,” Myrrh said, her voice as gentle as her demeanor. She shifted slightly, her legs crossing to the left in a casual motion that somehow drew my attention back to her. “She asked to join our study group, so I decided to invite her as well.”

“I—I’m glad you could join us, Miss Dianca!” Fei Xian piped up, her voice carrying a sweet enthusiasm. From under the table, I caught a glimpse of her legs wiggling ever so slightly, as though she were too excited to sit still.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Fei,” Dianca replied warmly. Her legs, in contrast, shifted in a deliberate rhythm—slightly opening and closing, as though emphasizing her words with subtle movements. “I asked Myrrh to help me with my studies because, truth be told, I’m struggling quite a bit. Advanced calculus has been giving me nightmares. I heard from her that you’re amazing at it.”

“Ahaha! You flatter me, Miss Dianca,” Fei Xian replied, her voice tinged with modesty and a hint of pride. “I still have a lot to learn myself, especially in History and Weaponry. Zaft here is amazing at those subjects, which is why I’ve been asking for his help.” She glanced in my general direction, her legs crossing neatly, as if to reinforce her point.

“Oh, Zaft! That’s right!” Dianca exclaimed, her emerald eyes lighting up as her legs wiggled in visible excitement. “Wait—where is he?”

Right on cue, Myrrh shifted her position, swinging her legs beneath the table. One of her feet gently nudged my shoulder, pulling me out of my daze. She leaned down to peer under the table, her long lime-green long hair cascading over her shoulder. “Hey, what’s taking you so long?”

“N-nothing! I found it!” I blurted, hurriedly holding up the elusive blue pen I’d recovered a few minutes earlier. Realizing my extended stay under the table was attracting unwanted attention, I scrambled to retreat, lifting my head—only for it to meet the unforgiving edge of the wooden table with a resounding thud.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Ow!” I winced, rubbing the sore spot as I surfaced.

“Jeez, Zaft, what the heck were you doing under there?” Myrrh muttered, crossing her arms as she fixed me with a skeptical glare. Her voice was low, a whisper meant only for me. I managed a sheepish smile, hoping to deflect her suspicions.

“Here,” I said quickly, handing the pens to Dianca. The blue pen matched her vibrant energy—and, well, something else I might have noticed during my unintended excursion. I also passed her a green pen that matched Myrrh’s aesthetic in more ways than one, and an orange one for Fei Xian, whose sleek, powerful presence was as striking as the color.

Yep, I'm talking about their respective underwears, discovered two feet below the table.

“Thanks!” Dianca clapped her hands together, her joy as bright as the pens now in her grasp. “Now we can finally start!”

The group settled back into their seats, papers rustling as notebooks were opened and pens clicked. But for me? Concentration was a distant dream. My thoughts refused to align with the formulas and equations scrawled across the pages. I shifted awkwardly in my chair, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. Studying? Yeah, that might take a while.

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Minutes passed in focused silence, the soft rustle of turning pages and the faint scratch of pens filling the space around us. My momentum was unstoppable—equations flowed, notes were rewritten, and advanced calculus problems dissolved under the steady rhythm of my pen. Before long, Myrrh leaned toward me, her lime-green hair brushing the table’s edge as she posed a question about one of the trickier calculus concepts.

Fei and Cindy weren’t far behind, peppering me with queries about the intricacies of pressure computations in weaponry. Their eyes, sharp and curious, darted between their notes and my explanations. Even Dianca, who had been relatively quiet, began to chime in, her emerald eyes wide with curiosity as she sought clarity across multiple subjects.

Meanwhile, Neil was sprawled over his desk, his head buried in the crook of his arm, lost in a peaceful nap. On the other side of the table, Remuel was decidedly more awake but no more productive. He lounged casually, a manga propped up in his hands—a rare find from the library’s dusty, long-forgotten shelves. It was hard not to feel like the lone nerdy guy in this group, the de facto academic engine driving the rest forward.

An hour slipped by before we even realized it. Our eyes burned from scanning lines of dense text, and our hands ached from the relentless grip of pens. The collective sigh of fatigue hung in the air as we finally dropped our pens and decided to take a break.

Dianca stretched her arms above her head, a soft yawn escaping her lips before she turned to us. “By the way,” she said, her curious gaze sweeping across the group, “I just noticed—aren’t those Protocol 101 textbooks for second years?”

“Oh, this?” Myrrh held up her textbook, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We heard that Protocol 101 is on the written licensure exams, so we’re trying to get a head start.”

“That’s right,” Fei chimed in, her voice brimming with determination. She clenched her fists for emphasis, only for her expression to falter into a small frown. “Unfortunately, these advanced books are... well, a lot. Only Zaft seems to understand them. So, we decided he could read the books and, you know... spoon-feed us the information.”

“FYI, you all still need to read the book yourselves,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “I just give you the pointers and the key things to memorize. I can’t summarize every protocol in the entire book for you.”

“Yes, Zaft Sensei!” Fei exclaimed, snapping into a martial artist salute with theatrical flair. The next moment, Cindy and Myrrh joined in, mimicking her gesture with equal enthusiasm, their faces lighting up as though they’d just been inducted into some secret dojo.

I blinked at them, unsure whether to feel flattered or mildly offended. This wasn’t the first time they’d pulled this act, and every time they called me “Sensei” and did that over-the-top salute, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were poking fun at me. Myrrh, as usual, seemed to be the ringleader of their antics, her eyes glinting with mischievous delight. Still, I decided to let it slide. Better to let them have their fun than risk giving them more fuel for their teasing.

“Wow!” Dianca’s voice broke through, her emerald eyes wide with admiration. “It sounds like Zaft is really an amazing person!”

“Sometimes,” Myrrh chimed in, resting her chin lazily on her hand. Her lime-green hair fell like silk over her shoulder as she fixed me with a half-lidded gaze. “But let’s not forget—half of his grades come from my achievements.”

I cringed, leaning back in my chair as a wave of mock indignation washed over me. “Can you, for once, let me bask in the glory of being praised solo?”

Myrrh responded with a playful grin, sticking out her tongue—a small, teasing gesture that made my heart stutter unexpectedly. She always had this way of blending sass with charm, and this moment was no different.

Then, without warning, she bumped her shoulder gently against mine, her head tilting slightly toward me. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as she raised a hand to cover her mouth.

“By the way,” she said, her words almost a purr, “I know what you did under the table.”

A cold sweat trickled down my temple, and a shiver crept up my spine. “W-what are you talking about?” I stammered, my voice an octave higher than intended.

Myrrh leaned closer, her lime-green hair brushing against her shoulder as her narrowed blue eyes locked onto mine. “Don’t play innocent with me,” she said, her tone smooth but edged with playful accusation. “I’ve known you long enough to see right through you.”

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I shot back, attempting to keep my tone steady, though my nerves betrayed me.

For a moment, she just stared at me, her gaze sharp and unyielding. Then, with a soft exhale, she withdrew, resting her chin on her hand once more. Her expression shifted into something unreadable, a cryptic smile curling at the corners of her lips.

I let out a shaky breath, relieved the interrogation had ended—for now. But guilt weighed heavily on my chest. Myrrh knew. Somehow, she had pieced together the embarrassing truth of my earlier indiscretions under the table.

These girls were my friends—Myrrh, Fei, Cindy, and now Dianca too. They trusted me, included me in their world, and here I was, betraying that trust by indulging in such dishonorable thoughts. The memory of those fleeting glances at their thighs and the accidental (yet tantalizing) glimpse of their panties gnawed at my conscience.

I closed my eyes for a moment, resolving to do better. To treat them with the respect they deserved.

...Though, a tiny mischievous voice in the back of my mind couldn’t resist adding: Next time, I should’ve used my camera.