Chapter 281: The Perfect Alibi
Knock-knock-knock.
"Cecilia." Lazuardi sounded calm and patient from the other side of the door. "This is Lazuardi."
The room exploded.
Eastiel moved first, launching himself off the threshold, grabbing his uniform from the floor, his arms flailing, his legs tangling in the discarded sheets. He crashed into the bathroom door, bounced off, and stumbled sideways into Arkai, who was already reaching for his own clothes, his face the color of death.
"Move—move—move—" Arkai hissed, shoving Eastiel through the bathroom doorway. The lion stumbled, tripped over the threshold, and landed on his knees on the cold tile with a crack that made everyone wince.
Oathran was already inside, calr, but his eyes were wide open now. He caught Eastiel by the arm, hauled him upright, and pulled him deeper into the bathroom, out of sight, out of fra.
Arkai scrambled after them, his shirt in his teeth, his pants on his shoulder. He hit the doorfra shoulder-first, rebounded, and Oathran’s hand shot out to yank him through by the collar and locked the door.
Cecilia was already moving. Her robe, her thin, skimpy, compromising robe, flapped around her as she sprinted across the room.
Her hand caught the pile of discarded uniforms still left outside, Eastiel’s jacket, Oathran’s trousers, Arkai’s belt, a tangle of underwear that she didn’t have ti to identify.
She slamd into the bathroom door. Her fist pounded against the wood. "Open up!"
When the door reopened, she shoved the clothes through and the door slamd shut again.
Her chest heaved, but she turned.
The room was a disaster. The sheets were twisted, the pillows were everywhere, the lube bottles were scattered across her nightstand like evidence at a cri scene. Her pink dildo sat on the bed, proud and unmissable, catching the soft light.
She lunged, grabbed it, stuffed it under her pillow. The pillow bulged. She grabbed another pillow, threw it on top, and the mound was less obvious. Maybe. She shoved the lube bottles into her nightstand drawer—one, two, three, four—and the drawer wouldn’t close. She kicked it. It shut.
Her hands flew to her robe, cinching the belt tight, pulling the fabric closed, hiding the thin straps and bare, red-bitten skin underneath. Her hair was a nest, so she raked her fingers through it, once, twice, and gave up.
She opened the door.
Lazuardi stood in the corridor.
Behind him stood Professor Hargrave, his massive fra filling the hallway. And beside him, Professor Suna, her sharp eyes fixed on Cecilia’s face, her expression unreadable.
Three professors at four in the morning.
Cecilia’s smile was fixed when she undid the sound barrier Oathran made with her mana. Her voice was steady. Her soul was leaving her body.
"What brought you here at this hour, professors...?"
On God, if they were in the real world right now, any beast would have been able to sll everything that had just transpired. The air was thick with it. Sweat and sex and the particular musk of three n who had spent the last hour doing things that would make even the most open-minded professor reach for a drink.
Well, of course there were chances that in this world too, soone could have a sharper than average sense of sll...
Cecilia kept her hands clasped behind her back, her body positioned squarely in the doorway to block the view of the disaster behind her.
"We’re sorry for disturbing your sleep, Miss Araceli." Professor Suna said. "An incident just happened not long ago, and you are needed in the teachers’ eting room."
An incident?
Cecilia’s eyebrows rose just a milliter. "What... incident?"
The three professors exchanged glances. Lazuardi’s hand moved subtly, and she felt the faint shimr of a sound barrier wrapping around them, sealing their conversation from any ears in the neighboring rooms.
"Miss Vaiva was found unconscious in the Amaryllis Building’s bathroom." Lazuardi said. "There was a tight tie around her neck. When she was healed, she said you asked her to et there at three in the morning." He paused, letting the words settle. "And that you did that to her."
Suna’s eyes widened slightly. Hargrave’s beard bristled. They hadn’t expected that Lazuardi would tell her the accusation before they brought her to the eting room. Giving her ti. Giving her warning.
"Why don’t you check the magic security recording?" Cecilia’s question ca imdiately, her tone matter-of-fact.
Lazuardi scoffed. "Veteran last-year students like you know the routes to avoid them." His eyes narrowed. "You think I didn’t know you brought Oathran over to your dorm at night once?"
Beside him, Hargrave’s eyebrows climbed. Suna’s lips pressed together. They were learning things tonight.
"So the professors assu I avoided the security recordings," Cecilia said slowly, "to et up and attack Miss Vaiva?"
"Did you?" Lazuardi flatly asked. "Because she has a compelling argunt."
"But not proof?" Cecilia tilted her head.
"She recorded you speaking with Nikolas last night." Lazuardi’s expression didn’t change. "We’ve checked the recordings. They’re real."
He ticked off points on his fingers. "She claims you want more n as your boyfriends. She says you also want Arzhen, but he’s still entangled with her and doesn’t like Oathran, who beat him up."
He shrugged. "Normally, we wouldn’t believe such a stupid motive." His gaze swept over her, pointed. "But you and your relationships are special."
Suna made a sound that might have been agreent or might have been indigestion. Perhaps... both.
"So, out of rage, because you still love Arzhen, you beat her up." Lazuardi concluded. "Forcing her to destroy the footage." He paused. "Mind you, she has a lot of footage of you and your boyfriends. Not just you and Nikolas. It makes sense you want them gone."
Lazuardi looked deep into her eyes.
"The others might believe her."
Cecilia blinked. Her arms folded across her chest. Her chin lifted.
"So?" She asked, voice light. Smug. "Take care of it for , Professor. You’re good at it."
"You—!" Lazuardi’s hand shot out, fingers clamping around her skull, his grip firm, his expression furious.
"Owowowowowwwww—" Cecilia protested, her hands flying up to grab his wrist, her feet rising onto her toes as he squeezed.
The two other professors watched. Hargrave’s eye twitched, and Suna’s lips pressed together. Seeing their close relationship, this young headmaster might actually take care of it for her...
"Headmaster." Hargrave cleared his throat. "Please keep a level head and unbiased judgnt."
"You don’t need to." Cecilia was still grasping Lazuardi’s wrist, still on her toes and grinning, but she pulled him forward, toward the door, toward the room she had been so carefully blocking. "She said at three in the morning, right?"
She walked toward the bathroom door. Her knuckles rapped against the wood. Knock-knock-knock.
The door cracked open... then swung wider.
Three n stood in full view inside the small dorm bathroom.
Eastiel’s uniform was disheveled, his shirt half-tucked, his collar crooked, his golden hair a riot of tangles. Arkai’s trousers were unbuttoned, the fly gaping at his front. Oathran’s shirt was buttoned wrong, the collar askew, his sleeves mismatched.
Their faces were red. Their hair was ssy. Their eyes were guilty.
The three professors’ jaws hit the floor.
Cecilia turned back to them. Her other hand tugged at the collar of her robe, pulling it down, open, revealing the fresh love bites scattered across her shoulders, her collarbone, her throat.
"At three in the morning," she whispered shyly, "I was having an orgy with my boyfriends."
She bit her index finger.
"So of their seeds might still be left inside , if you want to check... for alibi?"
...
...
...
Lazuardi’s face had gone through several colors. Red, white, purple, back to white. Suna was staring at the ceiling with the intensity of a woman trying to ascend. Hargrave’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish that had been thrown onto a dock.
Eastiel whimpered. Arkai’s face was buried in Oathran’s shoulder. Oathran... was helplessly smiling.
Cecilia scratched her cheek.
"Uh... System... can we... get out of this world now...?"
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