Twelve steps.Kang Min-jae counted them like a monk reciting mantras.
One—two—three...
Eun Hae’s pace stayed business-crisp, black academy coat flaring behind her. Hye-Ra drifted at his other elbow, robe swishing, still humming an after-glow lody that sounded suspiciously like I told you so.
Seven—eight... The dorm-tower foyer yawned open. Polished marble, high ceilings, and the bittersweet sll of dicinal incense—the Academy’s favoured air freshener for sleepless cultivators.
Eleven—twelve.Min-jae’s shoes clicked over the last tile. No spontaneous erection, no system prank. Small victory.
[SYSTEM NOTE]
Public-Boner Threat:
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