Chapter 137: I Like Hearing Your Breasts Speak

After receiving Charlotte’s kiss, and thinking back to all the strangely good things that had been happening between him and Yelena too, Mika decided he wasn’t going to wallow anymore.

Enough of sulking. Enough of acting like the world had already decided his fate.

If they wanted to call him names, glare at him, scowl at him, so be it. He was going to try. At the very least, he would create the classroom life he wanted, even if the whole school refused to give it to him.

So with a firm breath and a look of determination in his eyes, he pushed open the classroom door.

Every head turned.

And before anyone could react, he lifted his voice loud and clear,

"Good morning, everyone! I hope you’ve all been doing well. And beautiful weather outside, isn’t it? The sun’s out, the sky’s clear—perfect day to fall asleep in class without the teacher noticing, don’t you think?!"

He grinned, expecting something.

A groan, a laugh, or at least a "shut up" from the back row. Something normal.

But instead, nothing.

Every head lowered instantly. Every gaze dropped to the floor, the desks, the pages of books that weren’t even open.

It was as if the entire classroom had rehearsed a silent pact: Don’t look at him. Don’t speak to him. Don’t attract his attention.

Unlike the students in the halls, who whispered and jeered from a distance, these were his actual classmates. They were the ones who had to sit with him every day, the ones who had seen firsthand what he could do.

And they were terrified. Too terrified to risk a single word.

Mika’s smile faltered, but he refused to give up. He strode further inside, then stopped by the first row, lightly patting the shoulder of a boy.

"Robert. I heard your brother got into an accident, yeah?...Bike crash, I heard. Is he alright now?"

Robert’s shoulders stiffened like stone. Slowly, he looked up, his face pale. "He’s...fine. He’s fine. There’s nothing wrong at all." He stammered quickly, then dropped his eyes again like Mika was a predator.

Mika’s chest tightened, but he forced a smile and turned to the side.

"Emma! New haircut? Or is it just the way you’ve styled it today?...Either way, it looks great on you."

Emma flinched at her name. She gave a jerky nod, cheeks pink with nervous tension, and immediately twisted away, pretending to adjust her books.

"...Seriously?" Mika muttered under his breath, before turning again. "Alright, what about you, Steve? I heard you’ve been trying out for the football team. How’s it going?"

The boy at the last row jolted like he’d been caught stealing. His fake smile was almost painful to look at.

"Still trying. The coach is...deciding. It’s...still ongoing."

Mika frowned. "That long? Come on, I’ve seen you play. You’re good, really good. You want me to put in a word with the coach? I could recommend you."

"No!" Steve blurted out, panic lacing his voice. "No need. It’s fine. I don’t need, don’t trouble yourself." He looked away immediately, shoulders trembling.

Seeing his reaction, Mika stopped dead in his tracks, his attempts hitting a wall harder than stone.

He had tried greeting them warmly. He had tried being personal, picking up on details he’d overheard during lunch breaks. He had even offered help.

And still, all he saw in their eyes was fear. He couldn’t break through the wall of fear around him.

And realising that no matter what he did, it wouldn’t change anyone’s opinion of him, a weary sigh escaped him before he straightened his back, shoulders slumping, and trudged back to his desk, the very last seat in the back row by the window.

Dropping into the chair, he leaned back, resting his elbow on the sill.

But then, just as he sat down, like magic—the room came alive.

The silence shattered. The very moment his classmates realized he was no longer standing near them, voices burst into the air. Students leaned over desks, chatting freely, laughing even.

It was as if Mika’s mere presence, his gaze, had frozen them, and his retreat released them.

Some whispered while darting glances his way. Some scowled openly, muttering things under their breath. Mika caught fragments, enough to know what they thought of him.

He gave a wry smile at the sight. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t change how they perceived him.

Leaning back in his chair, tilting it until his shoulders rested against the frame, he let his eyes drift toward the ceiling. His lip tightened between his teeth as his thoughts spiraled.

Who was it? Who the hell leaked his file?

If that file hadn’t been exposed, none of this would have happened. He would have had a fresh start, sure, maybe after the things he had done people would look at him differently.

But at least he wouldn’t have been doomed from the very beginning. The leak poisoned everything, and Mika couldn’t help but feel the rising frustration boiling in his chest.

The person who leaked it hadn’t done so by accident. No, it had been deliberate. Carefully planned.

It had to be tied to the factions at war for power, those who opposed Yelena, and the other Battle Angels. They had used him as bait, a pawn to smear reputations and stir suspicion.

Everyone knew he was close to them, especially to their daughters. Targeting him was the perfect way to strike a blow.

But who exactly was behind it?

The royal families with their thirst for dominance? The federations, with their endless scheming? Or one of the ambitious noble factions who would gladly sell a soul for influence?

He didn’t know yet. But what he did know was that whoever they were, whoever had dared to twist his life into this mess, he wanted nothing more than to smash their heads in and grind their schemes into dust.

But before the thought could go any deeper,

His vision darkened.

Two enormous shadows loomed over him, blotting out the ceiling entirely. Mika blinked in confusion, until he realized what was hanging directly in front of his face.

Not shadows.

Breasts.

Massive, heavy, perfectly round breasts covered in a white blouse that dipped low enough to block his entire field of vision. The curves so perfect he could trace their weight and softness without even touching them.

They hovered right there, close enough that if he leaned forward the slightest bit, his nose would sink into them.

But just as Mika was wondering if God had finally decided to reward him for all the humiliation and pain he’d gone through, with a perfect pair of breasts blotting out his ceiling view, a voice cut through his daydream like a blade of ice.

Cold. Harsh. Detached.

Almost like a physician announcing a terminal diagnosis with no trace of pity.

"I already knew you were a lustful demon, Mika." The girl’s voice said flatly above him. "Every time we speak, your eyes keep sneaking to my chest. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?"

Mika tilted his head back, already smiling. He knew that voice. He didn’t need to see her face to picture the razor-edged glare she was probably giving him.

"I personally don’t even care since it’s only natural that a horndog like you would stare at a pair of knockers whenever the chance arises. But still..."

"...to stare at them so brazenly is too much even for me, so can you stop staring at me with those lecherous eyes of yours?"

She continued, tone dripping with disdain.

"Every time you look, I regret that my father married a woman with a chest like this. If only he’d chosen someone petite, someone flat, then maybe I wouldn’t have inherited these, and I wouldn’t have to endure your disgusting gaze."

Her words were venomous, slicing without mercy. The kind of insults that could rot a weaker boy’s pride from the inside.

But Mika?...He just chuckled under his breath, eyes still fixed squarely on the curves blotting out the world above him.

"Well, let me just inform you, that won’t work on me." He said lightly, almost cheerful. "You see, I don’t discriminate when it comes to breasts. Small, big, flat, heavy, I like them all."

"...So even if you had the tiniest chest in the academy, I’d still ogle you just the same."

At that, her breasts gave the slightest bounce, almost like she had scoffed in disbelief.

"Of course." She said icily. "As expected of a lust-filled demon. It only makes sense you’d say something so vile."

"Naturally. But you know..." Mika’s grin widened, eyes refusing to budge from the perfect swell hanging above him. "You always insult me. Every single conversation, you find some new way to dig under my skin. You mock me, belittle me, try to grind me down until I break."

"...Honestly, I’m amazed I haven’t cried myself to sleep by now."

She leaned closer, hair brushing the edges of his chair as her cold tone bore into him. "Then why aren’t you crumbling, Mika? Why are you still smiling like an idiot?"

He smirked, tilting his head to the side like he’d just found the punchline to some joke.

"Because right now..." He said softly. "It doesn’t hurt at all. Actually, I feel...pretty satisfied."

"Oh?" Her voice, still sharp, carried the faintest trace of curiosity. "And why is that?"

He let his eyes trace the full, heavy shape of her breasts above him, his smirk growing wicked.

"Because right now, I can’t see your face. All I can see are these." His voice dropped lower, savoring every word. "So it almost feels like your breasts are the ones insulting me instead of you. And I have to say...hearing insults from them? Sounds a lot more pleasant."

For a moment, silence. Then, slowly, she leaned down, bringing her chest down until the curves hovered even closer, pressing shadows over his grin.

Amusement slipped into her tone for the first time.

"Oh, really? Then does that mean no matter what I say, as long as I hold them out like this and speak..." She gave a deliberate shake, enough to make the heavy curves sway before his eyes. "...you won’t flinch? You’ll just keep smiling like an idiot?"

"Of course." Mika nodded without hesitation.

"I see." Her lips curled, dangerous and amused all at once. "Then let’s test that out."

The voice did as she said. Her hands came up, cupping her own breasts, squeezing and shaking them deliberately as though she were making them "speak."

The soft flesh bounced and shifted, heavy and commanding, yet the voice that came out of her mouth was nothing but icy, degrading and sharp.

"Maggot...."

She began coldly, the single word striking like a whip. Then she kept going, layering insult upon insult, her tone as harsh as a blade scraping across bone.

"Filth. Worm. Degenerate. Parasite. Vermin. Leech. Useless trash. Disgusting dog. Crawling insect. Stain. Rotten waste. Pathetic excuse for a man. Lust-drowned animal. Worthless scum."

And she didn’t stop there. She kept adding more, each one colder, sharper, crueler than the last, as though she was deliberately trying to hollow him out from the inside.

Her words spilled out without pause, grinding and relentless:

"Pervert. Fool. Idiot. Pest. Weakling. Defective mistake. Shameless beast. Demon spawn. Cursed reject. Freak. Slave to your urges. Lowly mongrel. Pile of dirt. Walking disease."

It was a continuous barrage, a storm of words so sharp that even the classmates sitting around, pretending not to listen, couldn’t help but shiver.

Some of them flinched every time she spat out a new insult. Others stiffened, gripping their desks as the sheer iciness of her tone crawled into their bones.

More than one student thought to themselves that in the entire academy, only she would dare to speak to him like that, with such degradation.

And at the same time, they thought, only he would dare to make a girl—who’s reputation of making men cry just from her unbothered gaze alone—and shockingly even one guy trying to kill himself just from her whispering some words into his ears, say such things right to his face, while her breasts hovered right over him.

One was a Cursed Demon.

The other was a Cruel Devil.

Truly...They were a match made in Hell, the whole class thought in that moment.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

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