"Class D's not exactly subtle about their 'Guiding Light' hero." Her tone was dry, almost mocking, but her fingers twitched at her sides, a faint sign of nerves that Lor caught, his grin widening slightly.

He leaned against the windowsill, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement.

"Fair enough," he said, his voice casual but probing.

"So, what do you want, Ameth? Not exactly your style to make house calls. And why are you still in your uniform?" His gaze lingered on her, taking in the way her uniform clung to her full breasts, the moonlight accentuating her curves, stirring a familiar heat despite his suspicion.

Ameth hesitated, her icy blue eyes darting away for a moment, her fingers curling into fists.

She'd been following him since they left the academy, trailing his steps through the bustling market and quiet lanes, always waiting for a moment when he was alone.

The girls—Myra, Viora, Eva, Nellie, Olivia—had been a constant barrier, their chatter and presence shielding him until now.

This was her chance, the perfect moment to act on the Princess's orders: knock him unconscious, drag him to the meeting point, deliver him to the royal crest's shadowed plans.

But as she stood in his room, her resolve faltered.

Her heart raced, her mind struggling to find words, the weight of her mission clashing with the unexpected pull of his presence—his lazy grin, his lean frame, the way his hazel eyes seemed to see through her.

Lor tilted his head, his grin softening, sensing her hesitation.

"What's it, Ameth?" he asked, his voice low, coaxing.

"You here for more guidance? That vegetable stall of yours still thriving after the last ritual, right? Or is it something else?" His tone was playful, but his hazel eyes were sharp, searching her face for a clue.

Ameth's icy blue eyes snapped back to his, her sharp face schooling into a neutral mask, seizing the opening he'd given her.

"Guidance," she said quickly, her voice firm, her full breasts rising with a quick breath.

"I… need more advice. For the stall." She stepped through the window, her curvy frame moving with a grace that belied her inner turmoil, her uniform skirt riding up to reveal more of her purple lace panties, her full breasts shifting as she entered his room, the moonlight trailing her like a shadow.

Lor raised a brow, his grin widening as he stepped back, his boots scuffing the wooden floor.

"Guidance, huh? Alright.," he said, his voice a low, flirtatious rumble, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief.

"I'm tired right now but for you, I'll do it. My grandfather used to tell me the Light's always got room for one more."

He sank to the wooden floor, his lean frame relaxed but his gaze sharp, watching her every move.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a worn silver coin, its edges dulled from use, and placed it between them, the metal glinting faintly in the lantern light.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the floor in front of him, his voice carrying a teasing edge, his mind already racing with the possibilities—Ameth's icy demeanor, her voluptuous curves, the prospect of another session both exhausting and enticing.

Ameth hesitated, her icy blue eyes flickering with uncertainty, her mission—to kidnap him, to deliver him to the Princess—slipping further away as she lowered herself to the floor.

Her uniform skirt rode up, revealing the full curve of her purple lace panties, her full breasts shifting as she crossed her legs, sitting across from him, the coin between them.

Her sharp face was tense, her heart pounding as the room's intimacy closed in, the weight of her original intent crumbling under the pull of his gaze, the ritual's allure tugging at her resolve.

Lor closed his eyes.

The coin between them trembled, then lifted, hovering an inch above the wooden floor, a faint hum filling the air as it spun slowly, catching the lantern's glow.

He opened his eyes which began to glow, a soft, otherworldly light, his voice shifting, deepening into an ethereal, resonant tone that seemed to echo from somewhere beyond him.

"What guidance do you seek, child?" he asked, his voice possessed, the words heavy with the ritual's weight, the room charged with a sudden, electric tension.

Ameth's icy blue eyes widened, her breath catching, her full breasts rising faster under her uniform.

The coin's hum pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

She leaned forward, her blonde hair catching the lantern's glow, her voice soft but steady.

"I… need guidance to expand my vegetable business," she said, her icy blue eyes flickering with uncertainty, clinging to the excuse she'd used to enter his room, though her heart pounded with the weight of her unspoken intent.

The coin trembled mid-air, then dropped lifelessly to the wooden floor with a soft clink, the hum fading into silence.

Lor's head slumped forward for a moment, his hazel eyes dimming as he exhaled sharply, as if a weight had lifted.

He blinked, his gaze returning to normal, his black hair falling messily into his face as he leaned back, his lean frame relaxing.

He rubbed his temple, his lazy grin returning, though his voice carried a hint of fatigue.

"The Light's spoken," he said, his tone casual but tinged with a playful authority.

"It wants you to have an erotic massage."

Ameth's icy blue eyes widened, her sharp face creasing with confusion, her full breasts shifting as she leaned back slightly, her hands gripping her knees.

"An… erotic massage?" she asked, her voice uncertain, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. "What's that? I've never heard of it."

Her tone was wary, her mission momentarily forgotten as she tried to parse his words, the ritual's unexpected demand catching her off guard.

Lor's grin softened, his hazel eyes steady as he leaned forward, his voice calm and reassuring, stripped of the usual flirtatious edge.

"It's not what you're thinking," he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if explaining a potion recipe.

"It's about wellness, relaxing your body and mind. The Light sees you're all wound up—running that stall, dealing with market hagglers, probably not sleeping enough. A massage like this, it's… intense, sure, but it's meant to loosen you up, clear your head. Helps you focus, make better decisions for your business."

He shrugged, his lean frame relaxed, his words framing the ritual as a practical necessity, not a seduction, though his cock stirred faintly at the thought of her curves under his hands.

Ameth's icy blue eyes narrowed, her sharp face skeptical, her fingers twitching against her knees.

"For my good?" she asked, her voice laced with doubt, her full breasts rising with a quick breath.

"Last time, the Light wanted… a handjob. How's this a ritual if it wants my good this time?"

Lor shrugged, his hazel eyes glinting with a hint of mischief, though his voice stayed steady.

"The Light's unpredictable," he said, leaning back on his hands, the wooden floor creaking under his weight. "Maybe it sees something which we don't see yet."

His grin was easy, his words convincing, masking the heat stirring in his core as he watched her, her purple lace panties peeking further as she shifted.

Ameth's icy blue eyes studied him for a long moment, her sharp face unreadable, as if she saw through the ritual's pretense to the desire beneath.

But his earnestness, the promise of relief, tugged at her, her mission faltering under the weight of her own exhaustion.

"Fine," she said finally, her voice soft but resolute, her full breasts rising as she stood, her curvy frame glowing in the lantern light. "If the Light thinks it'll help… let's do it."

Lor nodded, his grin widening as he gestured to his bed, the mattress creaking softly under its worn quilt.

"Lie down there," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"Just in your underwear—makes it easier to work the tension out." He turned to a small wooden shelf, pulling out a vial of body oil, its faint lavender scent filling the room as he uncorked it, his lean frame moving with ease.

Ameth hesitated, her icy blue eyes flicking to the bed, then back to him, a spark of understanding crossing her sharp face—perhaps sensing the ritual's true nature, the heat beneath his calm demeanor.

But she nodded, her fingers moving to her blouse, unbuttoning it slowly, the fabric parting to reveal her full breasts, barely contained by her purple lace bra, her curvy frame glowing in the lantern light.

She slipped off her skirt, the fabric pooling at her feet, leaving her in her purple lace panties, the material clinging to her hips, accentuating her curves as she stepped toward the bed.

She lay down, her blonde hair splaying across the quilt, her full breasts rising with each breath, her icy blue eyes watching him warily, her body tense but yielding to the ritual's pull.

Lor watched, his hazel eyes darkening with a flicker of desire, though he kept his grin steady.

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