Lust.Did I lust after her? I didn’t knowingly do so, did I? Of course I consider her to be incredibly beautiful, and kind, and warm and…
I squeeze my eyes shut.Damn it! Just one hug and this happened?Do other males experience the same thing? How do they interact with other females if the smallest touch can set them off?
I inhale and exhale, hoping this will pass quickly so I can return to her.
Did she see? Does she know what happened? Why I rushed to the bathroom?
Damn it!
What will she think of me now? That I’m a lecher! A pervert!
I become more and more anxious as moments pass and the situation does not seem to resolve itself.
There is still a…big…problem in my pants.
Thinking back to all the books I read, I remember the basic mechanisms of it. But doingthatwhile only a wall separates me from Miss Moe doesn’t seem right. Yet the alternative is to stay here for an indefinite amount of time until the issue resolves itself—and I havenoidea how long that might take.
Undoing the buttons of my pants, I reach inside my underwear and?—
A knock sounds at the door.
“Nykander? Are you all right?”
Panic overtakes me.
“I-I’m fine,” I struggle to speak. “Just a moment.”
I abandon that idea and instead go to the sink and splash cold water all over my face. Closing my eyes, I think back to the mission and everything that happened. The moment I remember those odd visions, all traces ofexcitementdisappear.
Thank the Seven!
Finally, I exit the bathroom and come face to face with Miss Moe.
“I should probably leave. I don’t want to make problems for you.”
“Are you sure… You don’t look too good. You’re so flushed?—”
“A good night’s sleep should help,” I add. “But I must thank you for your time. It helped more than you can imagine.”
At that, she finally smiles at me.
“Then I’m happy. Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll come early since I’m off work for the next few days.”
With that promise between us, I leave—more like I run out of there before anotheraccidentcan occur.
It’s so late, there are almost no people on the street as I head back. Only a few vagabonds loiter around, some inebriated, others drugged up.
I’m almost at the outer edge of the Mortal District when I see a humanoid figure lying on the ground. At first, I try to avert my gaze—I’ve already learned my lesson.
But as my steps become slower, I realize the male is not moving.
Frowning, I stop. Indecision weighs heavy on me. Should I check or should I walk further? Last time I tried to act, I got beat up.
I should just walk.
I take another step.
