"Oh," she said. "…Yeah. Right. Whatever."
He really was listening.
That… did things to her confidence. And her nerves.
"Good," she said, nodding as if she hadn't almost combusted internally. "So. Um. It's also not about power. Or claiming. Or proving anything."
"I see."
"It's about intention," she added. "And consent. And timing."
"Timing," he repeated thoughtfully. "Is there a correct moment?"
She snorted before she could stop herself. "If there were, people wouldn't mess it up so often."
He tilted his head. "So humans frequently fail at kissing."
"Yes," she said firmly. "Constantly."
"…Even you?"
The question slipped out quietly. Too quietly.
She froze.
"I—what?"
"You said you have no experience," he continued evenly. "Yet you speak with certainty. Is that not a contradiction?"
Her soul tried to leave her body again.
WHY is he so perceptive?! WHY is he asking follow-up questions?!
She waved a hand dismissively. "That's—different! Knowledge and experience aren't the same thing!"
"How so?"
"Oh my god," she muttered. "You're like a walking philosophy exam."
"I do not know what that is."
"Lucky you."
She dragged a hand down her face.
"Look," she said. "You don't need experience to understand the idea behind it. Like—I know how flying works. Doesn't mean I've been thrown off a cliff."
His brows drew together slightly.
"…People fly by being thrown?"
"No! That's not—ugh—forget it!"
She groaned, pacing a small circle.
Why am I explaining kissing theory to an emperor who looks like he could conquer the world by accident? This is not how I thought my transmigration arc would go.
She stopped in front of him again.
"Anyway," she said, forcing composure, "kissing is supposed to feel… natural."
"How natural?" he asked.
Her eye twitched.
"You really don't let anything go, do you?"
"I am trying to learn correctly."
That earnestness again. It was frustrating.
"Natural," she repeated slowly, "means it doesn't feel forced. Or rushed. Or like you're being attacked by a very handsome but socially clueless emperor."
His gaze flickered.
"…Attacked."
She immediately raised both hands. "Metaphor! Just a metaphor!"
"I see."
He paused.
"…You found it forceful?"
Her mouth opened automatically.
"Yes—!"
Then she stopped. Because the truth hovered right there, inconvenient and embarrassing.
"Yes," she said again, quieter. "…But not entirely. Damn it."
His eyes sharpened just a fraction.
Her heart betrayed her once more.
"Don't look at me like that!" she snapped.
"That doesn't mean I liked it! It just means—ugh—it means my body reacted before my brain caught up!"
"That happens to me as well.." he said.
She blinked.
The admission was calm. Simple. Honest.
"When I am near you," he continued, "my body responds without instruction. I find that… unsettling."
Something in her chest softened.
Great. Now I feel bad.
"That's… normal," she said quietly.
"Annoying. But normal."
He studied her face. "So this reaction does not signify intent?"
"Not always," she answered. "Sometimes it's just instinct. Chemistry. Stupid hormones."
"…Hormones."
"Don't worry about it," she added quickly. "You don't need to understand everything right now."
He nodded.
Then—
"Do hormones influence kissing?"
She choked.
"WHY are you asking that?!"
"Because you appear affected by mine. And you're affecting me."
"I AM NOT—!"
She stopped herself.
Lie better. LIE BETTER. This pervert really will be the death of me.
"I mean—no! That's not—listen, stop saying it!"
"There is nothing wrong with what I said," he replied. "I'm just comparing."
"To WHAT?!"
"To your reactions… and mine."
Her brain short-circuited for the third time that hour.
This man is going to kill me. Not physically. Emotionally.
She dropped back onto the bed again, sitting this time instead of face-planting.
"I swear," she muttered, "this world exists solely to test my sanity."
He didn't sit again. He remained standing—respecting the boundary she hadn't even realized she'd set.
That awareness struck her belatedly. He really is trying.
And that—that was dangerous.
"Okay," she said, taking a steadying breath.
"Lesson recap."
He straightened slightly, like a student preparing for instruction.
She ignored how adorable that was.
"One," she said, counting on her fingers.
"You ask."
"Yes."
"Two. You pay attention to the other person's reaction."
"Yes."
"Three. If they pull away—"
"You stop."
"Good."
"And four," she added, hesitating just a bit, "you don't assume wanting once means wanting forever."
He considered that carefully.
"…So consent can change."
"Yes," she said firmly. "Always."
He nodded again, more seriously this time.
"I understand."
Aira exhaled slowly.
Why does teaching him feel like defusing a bomb that also happens to be very hot?
She glanced up at him
"And—just so we're clear," she added, "this does NOT mean you get to test what you learned on me."
"I would not do so without permission."
"That's not what I meant!"
"I know."
She frowned. "…Then what did you mean?"
"That you are afraid you will allow it."
Her breath hitched.
"I—what?!"
"You hesitate," he said softly. "But you do not leave. Your words say no, but your body remains."
Her cheeks burned. She looked away, flustered.
"Stop lying."
"I am not."
"…Try harder."
Silence fell again.
Heavy. Charged.
"…Aira," he said after a moment.
She groaned. "What now?"
"Thank you."
She blinked.
"For explaining," he continued. "For your patience."
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
"…You're welcome," she muttered.
Why does he sound so sincere? This is illegal.
She stood abruptly. "Okay! Lesson over!"
He blinked. "Already?"
"Yes! You're welcome! Go reflect! Meditate! Do emperor things!"
She marched toward the door—then stopped when she remembered she wasn't allowed to leave the room. After all, she was technically a prisoner… of a very handsome emperor.
Idiot. What I am even thinking?
He hadn't moved. Hadn't reached out. Hadn't crossed the line. That somehow made it worse.
She turned back slowly.
"Listen," she said, softer now. "Just… don't do anything impulsive. Okay?"
"I will restrain myself."
"…Good."
She hesitated. Then
"…But if you have questions," she added quickly, "you can ask. Just—words only."
His lips curved faintly.
"I will remember that. So, when is the demo for our lesson today?"
"Demo? There's no demo!"
Aira's voice cracked at the end.
The emperor blinked.
"…There is not?"
"No!" she snapped, flailing her hands. "This is not a cooking class! There is no tasting portion! You don't get to sample the instructor!"
He considered that.
"…That seems inefficient. How can we test if your lesson is effective?"
She stared at him in disbelief.
"I am not your test subject. Definitely NOT."
She spun away, pressing both hands to her burning cheeks.
Why does he keep talking like this is a science experiment where you test what you've learned?!
Why am I blushing like a maiden in a low-budget romance novel?!
Pull yourself together, Aira. You are a grown woman. A very single, very touch-deprived grown woman—STOP THINKING THAT—
Behind her, she felt him move.
Not aggressively. Just… closer. Her spine went rigid.
"You said," he reminded gently, "that consent may change."
"That does NOT mean you test it!" she said quickly.
"I am not testing," he replied. "I am asking."
She swallowed. Asking was worse.
"…Asking what?" she muttered, still not turning around.
"Whether," he said evenly, "you would stop me."