Chapter 24 - What is more firm, his thing or her resolve?

Raven’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his voice even. "So what, I just wait around for bureaucracy to move at a snail’s pace?"

"Not exactly." Marla adjusted the shawl around her shoulders, a unconscious gesture that made her heavy breasts shift under the fabric. "Your best bet is to contact the festival committee leader directly. They’re the ones who coordinate with vendors and promotional activities. If you can get them on board, they’ll bring it to the principal for official approval."

"And who’s the committee leader?"

"I’m not sure yet. The principal usually announces it at the start of festival season." She gave him a small, encouraging smile. "But if you check with the student affairs office, they should be able to tell you who’s been selected this year."

Raven stared at her.

His expression didn’t change.

But inside, something was screaming.

Because hovering above Professor Marla’s head, in that same translucent pink text the system always used, was a number he’d never seen before.

♡ -1%

Negative one.

His mouth twitched.

His eyes widened just a fraction—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

’What the hell?’

Favorability meters didn’t go negative. Not in his experience. The lowest he’d ever seen was 0%, and that was from people who were completely indifferent to his existence.

But ’negative one’?

That meant...

That meant she fucking ’hated’ him.

But ’why?’

He didn’t know this woman. Had never interacted with her before this exact moment. And from the way she was looking at him—patient, polite, even slightly warm—there was no indication of hatred anywhere on her face.

’System. Show me her status.’

The purple-pink interface flickered to life in his peripheral vision.

[Host: Marla Thornwood]

[Level: N/A]

[Race: Human]

[Class: University Professor, Maternal Figure, Man-Hater]

[Status Window]

Strength: (Average - Can carry moderate weight)

Agility: (Below Average - Limited physical activity)

Endurance: (Average - Maintains stamina through daily routine)

Intelligence: (High - Sharp logical reasoning)

Charisma: (High - Maternal warmth, respected authority)

Mana: 0

Special Traits:

- Deep-rooted hatred of men (Birth-based)

- Logical debate specialist

- Cannot be charmed by male pheromones (Mental resistance)

Favorability: -1% (Instinctive aversion to attractive young men)

Raven’s eyes locked onto that last line.

’Instinctive aversion to attractive young men.’

’Oh. Oh, that’s rich.’

His transformed appearance—the one that made girls do double-takes in the courtyard—was actively working ’against’ him with this woman.

She hated men. Specifically, she hated men who looked like they could charm their way into getting what they wanted.

And his incubus bloodline had turned him into exactly that kind of man.

’Fucking perfect.’

Marla was still talking, oblivious to the hurricane of calculation happening behind his calm exterior.

"—so if you’re serious about this, I’d recommend drafting a proposal," she was saying, her voice taking on that gentle-teacher cadence again. "Show them you’ve thought it through. Budget estimates, vendor outreach plans, promotional strategies. The committee will take you more seriously if you come prepared."

Raven blinked, forcing his attention back to her face.

She smiled at him—warm, maternal, completely genuine.

"Okay, dear student," she said kindly, already turning to leave. "You can take your leave now. Good luck with your proposal."

And she started walking away, her wide hips swaying with each step, the fabric of her long skirt clinging to the pillow-soft curves of her ass like it was holding on for dear life.

That hourglass figure moved like water—smooth, hypnotic, completely unaware of the effect it had.

Raven watched her go, his mind already three steps ahead.

Then he chuckled.

Low. Quiet.

The kind of sound that promised ’nothing’ good.

He glanced around the hallway.

Empty.

The last few students had filtered into classrooms, leaving nothing but fluorescent buzz and the faint smell of floor cleaner.

Perfect.

Raven reached into that space inside himself where his abilities lived—the ones the system had unlocked, the ones he’d barely started exploring.

’Stealth mode. Activate.’

His body shimmered once, like heat distortion over asphalt, and then he was ’gone’.

Not invisible, exactly. More like... unnoticeable. His presence erased from perception, slipping between the cracks of awareness like smoke through a keyhole.

He moved silently, closing the distance between himself and Professor Marla in three long strides.

She was humming something under her breath, adjusting the papers in her arms as she walked.

Completely oblivious.

Raven stepped up behind her—close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her thick body—and without hesitation, he wrapped both arms around her from behind.

His hands moved with brutal precision.

One hand grabbed her massive tits, fingers sinking into the soft, heavy flesh and ’lifting’ them up, feeling the weight of those milk-laden udders fill his palm like they were made for it.

The other hand bunched the fabric of her skirt, shoving it upward as his fingers found the heat between her thighs and pressed ’hard’ against her pussy through the thin barrier of her underwear, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles.

Marla’s entire body ’flinched’.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Raven leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, voice low and dripping with dark amusement:

"How exciting would it be... when I pound your ass to oblivion?"

"HOW DARE YOU—"

Marla whipped around, eyes wide with shock and fury, her hands flying up to shove away whoever had just—

Nothing.

The hallway was empty.

Completely, utterly empty.

No footsteps. No movement. No sign that anyone had been standing behind her at all.

Marla stood there frozen, her chest heaving as she tried to process what just happened.

She looked down at herself—dress slightly disheveled, her breasts still tingling from where those hands had ’grabbed’ her, the phantom sensation of fingers rubbing between her legs making her thighs clench involuntarily.

But there was no one.

"What..." Her voice came out shaky, breathless. "What the hell was that?"

Her eyes darted around the empty corridor, scanning every doorway, every corner, looking for ’someone’—’anyone’—who could’ve done that.

But the hallway remained silent.

Marla’s hands trembled as she adjusted her dress, smoothing down the fabric with jerky, uncertain movements.

Her mind was racing.

’That voice. That whisper.’

She knew that voice.

She’d just heard it thirty seconds ago.

Her lips moved, forming the name almost unconsciously:

"...Raven."

---

"Oh hell, dude—wait, how did you get here?!"

Dennis’s voice cracked with disbelief, his head whipping around so fast his neck popped audibly.

Raven was sitting right beside him, notebook open, pen tapping against the desk like he’d been there the entire time.

His expression was blank, eyes fixed forward on Professor Karev’s PowerPoint about Romantic symbolism.

"I was always here," Raven said flatly, not even looking at Dennis.

Dennis’s mouth hung open. "No—no you weren’t! I literally just looked and you were—"

"Mr. Kozlov!" Professor Karev’s voice cut through the classroom like a whip crack. "Do I need to separate you two? Because I’m more than happy to have you sit in the front row where I can keep an eye on your chatty mouth."

Dennis flinched, sinking lower in his seat. "Sorry, Professor."

But his eyes kept darting sideways toward Raven, like he was trying to confirm his friend was actually ’real’ and not some kind of hallucination.

’When the fuck did he sit down? I was looking right at his empty seat and then—’