Chapter 262: Princess Carry
Kouya only gave it a glance before withdrawing his gaze without interest. There was not even the faintest ripple in his expression, as though the sight before him was utterly beneath his notice.
In his eyes, this kind of thing was nothing more than the lowest level of animal instinct. Even dogs and cats often did it openly in the streets, driven by the same basic impulses. The infamous "Thai Heaven" could even cross species, going at it with a slipper without hesitation or shame. Humans, animals—it all blended together when reduced to such primal urges.
To Kouya, those two people were no different from cats and dogs, creatures simply following instinct without reason or restraint. Their fumbling movements were nothing but another kind of noise in the background of his day.
What he didn't expect, however, was that Vigne, overwhelmed by the surge of embarrassment, would suddenly "crash" like an overloaded computer. Her brain, running too hot with panic and shame, simply shut down—her consciousness flickering out as though someone had pressed a reset button.
Kouya reacted instantly. His arm swept forward, catching her before she could fall. His hand found her waist—slender, firm, and soft beneath his fingers. The touch was smooth, her body faintly warm through the fabric. It was such a perfect balance of delicacy and elasticity that his grip unconsciously tightened, savoring the curve that fit so naturally against his palm.
For a brief moment, he just stood there, gazing down at the fainted girl in his arms. The sight of her peaceful face, framed by strands of her soft hair, was strangely serene under the dim streetlights. He tilted his head toward the sky, recalling a half-joking relationship guide he'd read before, and murmured, "At times like this... I should probably take her home and turn raw rice into cooked rice?"
The words hung in the air, absurd yet oddly tempting. But he exhaled and quickly dismissed the thought.
After all, Vigne had only fainted. She'd wake up soon, and if he even tried such a thing, the moment she opened her eyes, the 'rice cooker' would explode and he'd be blown to ashes.
...
When Vigne slowly regained consciousness, her senses drifted back one by one. She first noticed a rhythmic motion, a steady rise and fall, and then the world sliding by in slow motion. The air carried a faint, familiar scent—clean, warm, and oddly reassuring. Her body, cradled in something firm yet gentle, relaxed without thinking.
She blinked hazily, vision gradually clearing. When she realized it was Kouya holding her, she let out a small breath of relief. For a fleeting heartbeat, she even wanted to raise her arms and cling to him, to stay in that safe warmth just a little longer.
But as her awareness sharpened, reason struck like a lightning bolt. Her heart lurched, and her startled voice burst out before she could stop it.
"Y-you-you-you—you, what are you doing?!"
The echo of her voice bounced off the empty street. She stared up at him, face rapidly turning crimson.
He was carrying her. Not just holding—carrying her like a princess.
Why?! How had it come to this?!
Kouya looked down at her, unbothered by her panic. "You fainted," he said matter-of-factly.
"Fainted?" she repeated, blinking. Fragments of memory flickered back—those shocking, indecent images from before—and the moment she recalled them, her entire face turned redder than a sunset. She turned her head aside, stammering, "Th-thank you... but you can put me down now..."
To her astonishment, Kouya only shook his head.
"Not putting you down."
"Eh?!" Her eyes widened.
He met her gaze with calm amusement. "Now I finally understand why you like hugging pillows."
"Why?" she blurted automatically, her voice almost squeaking.
"Because holding them feels so good... you just don't want to let go."
Her mind froze. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
The air between them seemed to tighten. Vigne's heart raced uncontrollably, and she became acutely aware of every inch of his touch. Her uniform skirt brushed against his arm, and the exposed skin of her thighs—smooth, pale, impossibly soft—pressed faintly against him. Her legs trembled from the warmth that spread through her.
"Y-you're talking nonsense!" she sputtered, her voice climbing higher with every syllable.
Her cheeks burned scarlet, tiny wisps of imaginary steam seeming to rise from her hair. She bit her lower lip, twisting in his hold in an attempt to escape.
But as she moved, her chest brushed against his arm.
The contact sent a jolt through both of them.
It was as if lightning flashed under her skin—tingling, thrilling, making her entire body tremble. Vigne gasped softly, her limbs suddenly losing strength. Her struggling stopped, her body going limp as she slumped back against him.
Kouya's heartbeat hammered in his chest. For someone who had just watched others indulging in the basest of acts without even blinking, the sudden rush of feeling caught him off guard. The difference was night and day.
This was real.
The silence that followed was thick, electric.
He stopped walking and lowered his gaze to her face. Her breath brushed against his neck, faint and warm. The subtle scent of her hair mixed with the fragrance of her soap—clean, sweet, unmistakably feminine.
The moonlight above filtered through drifting clouds, coating her with a pale glow that softened every contour of her face. Her lips, slightly parted, gleamed faintly under the silver light. They looked soft, moist—like a piece of jelly that begged to be tasted.
"W-what are you trying to do?!" she stammered, noticing his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her pulse race faster. She turned her head away, trying to compose herself, to look stern, dignified, untouchable.
It was hopeless.
Kouya's eyes locked onto hers, and in a voice low and sincere, he said, "I want to kiss you."
Her mind blanked.
Her heart skipped a beat so hard she nearly forgot to breathe.
He... wanted to kiss her?
Her fingers curled helplessly, and her vision swam. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her pulse thundered in her ears. The world around her seemed to shrink until there was only him, his breath, his eyes, his words lingering in the air.
"N-no way... that's... impossible..." she whispered, though her trembling voice carried no conviction.
Her hands, which had been pressing weakly against his chest, turned into trembling strokes—half resistance, half surrender.
Kouya lowered his head slowly. He could see the flutter of her long lashes, the glow on her cheeks, and the moisture glimmering on her lips. Even the heat radiating from her skin seemed to pull him closer.
Under the moonlight, she looked impossibly beautiful.
His pulse pounded in his ears, urging him forward.
He wanted to know what a kiss truly felt like—to touch, to taste, to understand the raw connection that went beyond words.
There was no phone call from Gabriel this time, no Raphiel suddenly appearing to interrupt. Nothing existed but the soft sound of breathing and the closing distance between them.
And then, just as their lips were about to meet, Vigne suddenly buried her face in his chest.
Her voice was muffled but firm. Her thoughts spun chaotically, yet one thing became clear.
If this was only impulse—born from what he saw earlier—then it wasn't something she could accept. A kiss born from lust, not affection, would taint what should be precious.
No.
She couldn't let that happen.
A first kiss should be something happy, sweet, and worth remembering.
Taking a sharp breath, she pressed her palms to his chest and pushed with all her strength. She leapt down from his arms, almost stumbling as her feet hit the ground. Her knees wobbled; she barely caught her balance.
"D-don't come any closer!" she said quickly, voice trembling but determined.
She took a few hurried steps back, glancing down at herself. Her skirt was rumpled, her blouse creased, but aside from that, she was untouched. Relief flooded through her chest, though her heart still raced wildly.
She bit her lip and glared up at him. "You... really have no shame," she wanted to say, but the words faltered. Her face, flushed and steaming, betrayed her more than any expression of anger could.
"Didn't get to kiss you," Kouya murmured, almost to himself. His tone was calm but tinged with regret. "So close... and still no idea what a kiss feels like."
Her eyes widened. "You...!"
"How about I try again?" he asked casually, as if he were suggesting a second round of a game.
The last traces of composure shattered. Vigne stomped her foot, cheeks glowing like twin embers, and cried out:
"You... pervert!"
The words rang out, sharp but soft around the edges—because despite the accusation, there was no disgust in her tone, no trace of hate. Only the warmth of flustered affection, hidden beneath embarrassment, trembling between them in the cool night air.
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