Chapter 89: Caught?

Silence pulsed between them like a second heartbeat, the cafeteria’s noise a distant roar.

Lor leaned forward now, his voice soft, probing. "If you’re so sure I’m faking it... why haven’t you told anyone?"

Kiara leaned back further, crossing her legs slowly, her skirt sliding just an inch higher, teasing the edge of black lace against her smooth thighs.

Her smile softened, almost admiring, her icy blue eyes locking onto his with a hunger that went beyond possession.

"Because you’re interesting," she said, her voice warm again, laced with genuine intrigue.

Her fingers drummed lightly on the table, nails tapping a rhythm only she knew. "You’re the only piece in Class D worth watching. Everyone else is boring. Predictable. But you..." Her eyes glittered, raking over him like she was peeling back layers.

"You’re the best liar I’ve ever met."

Lor didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Just watched her, the weight of her words hanging heavy, her proximity stirring that familiar tension—the way her blouse clung, her scent invading, her thighs brushing his knee under the table.

And deep down?

He smiled, a secret curl of triumph in his chest, the game shifting once more in his favor.

She thought she had him figured out, but that only drew her deeper into his web.

Lor cocked his head.

And smiled.

This time outside.

Not the nervous twitch he usually wore like a mask.

Not the dopey grin of the class idiot.

No—this was something different.

Something sharp, a glint in his hazel eyes like a blade catching light.

Something dangerous.

Kiara’s own smirk faltered slightly, her icy blue eyes narrowing as she leaned back, crossing her arms under her full breasts, the motion pushing them up against her blouse in a subtle display of defiance.

"There it is," she said softly, her voice a velvet purr edged with caution. "See, this is what I’m talking about. You’re finally coming out of the closet."

Lor gave a low hum, the sound vibrating in his chest like a predator’s rumble. "Feels... freeing, actually. Like peeling off dead skin."

His gaze met hers—direct, unblinking, stripping away the layers she’d thought she controlled.

"But there’s one thing I don’t like."

"Oh?" Kiara tilted her head, her dark bangs shifting, a faint flush creeping up her neck despite her composure. "What’s that?"

"I don’t like being someone’s pawn. I don’t like you thinking you have leverage over me."

She laughed, a sharp, melodic sound that drew a few distant glances from other tables.

"Leverage? Lor, come on. I already have it. You’re out of cards. You’re exposed. What are you going to do—pray to your pretend Light and ask it to save you?" She leaned in closer, her voice dripping with taunt, her breath warm against his skin, spicy perfume invading his senses.

"Face it. You do what I say. If I say sit, you sit. If I say bark, you bark. If I say lick my pussy, you crawl beneath this table and keep licking it until I cum on your face."

Lor cut in smoothly, one brow raised, his tone calm but laced with heat. "Tempting offer. If it’s you giving the orders, I might consider that last one."

She blinked, momentarily thrown off by his calm tone, her thighs pressing together under the table as a flicker of unwanted arousal stirred—the memory of his kiss still burning low in her belly.

"But," he added, placing both hands on the table between them, his fingers splaying like a claim, "there’s something you should know too."

Kiara leaned back, amused, her skirt riding up slightly to tease black lace against her plush thighs. "Oh? Do tell. Please let it be better than the Guiding Light story."

"I figured you’d catch on eventually," Lor said, his voice dropping lower, intimate. "That’s why I started asking myself some questions. About you."

"Me?" she asked, mock surprise in her tone, though her pulse quickened, her body tensing subtly. "I’m an open book, loser."

"Right," Lor said, nodding slowly, his eyes tracing the curve of her neck, the way her blouse clung to her curves. "So let’s turn a page."

His voice shifted—still quiet, but sharpened to a blade, cutting through the cafeteria’s hum.

"You. Kiara. You could score a perfect 30 in spell precision like you were lighting a match. And that written test last week? You turned it in with time to spare and still got everything right. You come from money. Status. There’s no reason for someone like you to be dumped into Class D unless... you chose it."

She didn’t blink, her icy blue eyes locked on his, but her fingers tightened on her arms.

He kept going, leaning in, his breath mingling with hers.

"You say you didn’t want to grind. That you wanted a chill life. That Class A’s too competitive." He tilted his head, mirroring her earlier gesture. "But that’s not true, is it?"

Kiara’s arms folded tighter, her breasts rising with a controlled breath, but she remained silent, her thighs shifting again under the table.

"You didn’t come to Class D to relax," Lor said, his voice lowering to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. "You came here to hide."

She exhaled slowly, her smirk returning, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Bold claim. From the guy who built a cult off coin tricks and moaning girls."

"Funny," Lor said, unfazed. "That didn’t sound like a denial."

Kiara’s eyes narrowed slightly, her posture shifting—her left hand twitching, legs uncrossing under the table, a subtle sign of the crack in her armor.

Kiara didn’t laugh this time.

She stared at Lor. Hard. Quiet. Her sharp face a mask, but the tension in her body betrayed her—thighs pressing together, fingers digging into her arms.

"You’re saying I’m hiding," she finally said, voice flat, devoid of her usual playfulness.

Lor didn’t flinch. "I’m saying you didn’t end up in Class D by accident. You chose it. Or someone forced you."

She folded her arms again, her blouse straining against her chest. "That’s cute. And why would I do that?"

Lor’s smile returned, slower now. Sharper, his hazel eyes boring into hers. "Because witches can’t hide in Class A."