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I couldn’t stop thanking the gods for this unexpected turn of events, for this sudden twist of fate that seed to be aligning the stars in my favor. But then, a nagging thought, a tiny prick of doubt, word its way into my mind.

Wait.

Was she really doing it on purpose?

The question hung in the air, a silent accusation against the seemingly innocent mont unfolding before . My brow furrowed, a faint crease appearing between my eyes as I considered the possibility. It seed too coincidental, too perfectly tid to be re accident.

Driven by a sudden, undeniable urge to confirm my suspicion, I dared to peek for a fleeting mont, my gaze darting quickly downwards. I needed to ensure, absolutely ensure, that she had already put on—

Huh, not yet?! My breath hitched, a silent gasp caught in my throat.

Her underwear. It was still conspicuously absent. And that, more than anything, sent a wave of sheer panic washing over . If this truly was an intentional act, a deliberate display, then surely, surely she would have rembered sothing as fundantal as her undergarnts. The stark, undeniable truth, however, was that she had simply slipped on her skirt imdiately after donning her long socks. Adding to my discomfiture, she had been sitting with her legs spread so incredibly wide, an almost audacious expanse that sent a flush of heat creeping up my neck, making my body feel incredibly, uncomfortably hot.

Oh God, I thought, a desperate plea echoing in the silent chambers of my mind.

Could she really be this incredibly clumsy? This oblivious to her surroundings, to her own state of undress?

If that were genuinely the case, then perhaps what my older sister Helena had so often recounted about her, tales I had always dismissed as re exaggerations or even outright fabrications, might actually hold a kernel of truth.

The thought was unsettling, a seismic shift in my perception of her.

And honestly, a wry, almost disbelieving smile touched my lips, I never, ever expected that this particular brand of clumsiness, this peculiar lack of self-awareness, was what had originally attracted my older sister to Senior—I an, to Selene.

The realization was almost comical, yet deeply profound in its implications for understanding my sister’s past affections.

WHUTTT!

The sudden, jarring sound startled out of my musings.

No sooner had the thought solidified in my mind than I heard it: the swift, almost frantic rustle of fabric, the unmistakable sound of her hand snatching up her underwear, which had been lying innocently on the floor all this ti. The speed with which she moved suggested a sudden, profound realization on her part.

She must have been incredibly embarrassed, I concluded, a wave of secondhand mortification washing over . The thought brought a small, almost imperceptible twitch to the corner of my lips.

I consciously tried to divert my attention, forcing myself to ignore the recent, rather revealing, turn of events. I focused on the task at hand, on the path ahead, on anything but the image that had been seared into my mind’s eye.

Then, her voice, soft yet clear, broke the silence. "Azalea. Now you can turn around, you know." There was a faint tremor in her tone, a hint of residual awkwardness, but also a quiet assurance.

I turned my body around, slowly, deliberately. The mont I completed my pivot, I was t with the welcoming sight of her hand, extended towards in a gesture of invitation.

"Co on," she said, her voice a little brighter now, a touch of anticipation in its cadence.

"Let’s go back."

* * *

Yes, finally! I have a new friend!

The thought exploded in my mind like a burst of colorful fireworks, filling with an unbridled, almost childish delight. I could barely contain my sheer exhilaration. If she hadn’t been standing directly in front of , radiating an unexpected warmth that sohow grounded , I might have succumbed to the urge to jump up and down, just like Kairi, in a display of pure, unadulterated joy.

The prospect of befriending Helena’s younger sister held a deeper significance than just the acquisition of a new companion. It carried the potential to nd my fractured relationship with Helena herself, a bond that had been severed far too abruptly. I rembered with a pang of nostalgia how close we used to be, how our lives had intertwined in a comforting rhythm, until that incident occurred.

The mory still stung, a lingering sense of guilt, of having sohow betrayed her trust, even though deep down I knew it wasn’t truly like that. This new connection felt like a chance at reconciliation, a bridge back to a friendship I had sorely missed.

Okay, I told myself, ntally shaking my head to clear the lingering thoughts of the past. Back to business. Back to the present mont, to the curious and endearing person standing before .

Speaking of which, I couldn’t help but notice, seeing Azalea’s hesitant deanor, how incredibly cute it was. Her shyness, usually an invisible cloak she wore, was now on full display, making her seem utterly charming.

I thought, stealing another quick glance at her face. Her features, usually composed and reserved, were softened by a delicate blush, her eyes downcast in an expression of genuine bashfulness. It was a remarkably endearing sight.

And perhaps, I admitted to myself, a little sheepishly, I had been overthinking things far too much. My mind, prone to elaborate conjectures and dramatic conclusions, had spun quite the tale.

I myself had just finished "getting dressed," or more accurately, I had just finished pulling on my long socks. Then, a sudden, almost comical realization struck . Oh, right—

My underwear!

The forgotten item, the source of Azalea’s earlier discomfiture and my own montary panic, now flashed vividly into my mind.

With a burst of renewed urgency, I quickly bent down and retrieved my underwear, which was still lying unceremoniously on the floor where it had been discarded.

I swiftly, almost chanically, pulled it on. Yes, I thought, a ntal footnote to myself, no need for any fan service embellishnts this ti.

The brief, revealing tableau was quite enough for one day.

It turns out, I mused, a light chuckle bubbling up from within, I really was overthinking it. My imagination, fueled by a combination of surprise and a touch of mischief, had truly run wild.

No wonder she had been trembling earlier; it seems I really had gone too far in my obliviousness. My crotch, I realized with a fresh wave of mortification, had clearly been displayed, my privates wide open for all to see.

It was a rather... exposed situation.

As if I were ready to be... ah, forget it.

I quickly cut off that line of thought, a faint blush now rising to my own cheeks. Better to leave that to her wild, perhaps now slightly traumatized, imagination.

Dwelling on it would only make things more awkward.

Honestly, I swore to myself, casting a ntal eye back at the sequence of events, I truly thought that before I put on my skirt, I had already put on my underwear.

But no, I had been unequivocally wrong. It was a very strange order of dressing, wasn’t it? An utterly illogical progression.

Oh yeah, a mischievous thought suddenly popped into my head, completely unrelated to the previous incident.

Kairi can still read my mind, right?

The mischievous gleam in my eye brightened. I wonder... what will her reaction be later when she hears all about this? When she sifts through the chaotic, embarrassing details of my recent ntal escapade?

Will she simply burst into uncontrollable laughter, a private joke unfolding in the confines of her own mind? Or will she... just start rambling on incoherently, spewing a stream of utterly nonsensical comnts and observations, completely unhinged?

What’s clear, I concluded with a knowing smirk, is that Kairi will do both, with an almost effortless grace.

Too easily, even. Her unpredictable reactions were always a source of amusent, and sotis, a little exasperation.

As soon as I finished securing my underwear, I walked the few steps over to where Azalea stood, waiting patiently.

"Azalea. You can turn around now," I repeated, my voice softer this ti, a gentle invitation.

She turned her body around, slowly, deliberately.

And then, as she fully faced , I greeted her by extending my hand, a silent promise of friendship, a gesture of newfound connection.

"Co on," I said, my voice warm, filled with a genuine eagerness for what lay ahead.

"Let’s go back." Back to whatever adventures awaited us, now as friends.

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