The lecture hall buzzed like a hive under sunlight—whispers of boys trading theories, mechanical taps of laptop keys, and the occasional suppressed chuckle from the back rows. Dust particles shimmered in the golden morning light slicing through tall windows. Room 3F of Takahashi Academy's eastern wing had seen its share of substitute lecturers over the semester, but today wasn't just any substitute.
Today, she walked in.
Yue Hatake.
She moved like a breath of warm perfume—light and commanding. Her heels clicked softly against the wooden floor, her silky black blouse hugging generous curves that most students barely believed were real. A tightly-fitted pencil skirt emphasized every elegant step, the hem teasing just above the knee. Her long black hair cascaded like midnight ink across her shoulders, barely contained in a loose ponytail.
Pasty Boy—technically Shen Yuo, but everyone knew him by his work alias—sat in his usual seat: third row, by the window. It was where he could stare outside and drift through thoughts whenever he needed to escape the reality of his debt-soaked life.
But today, there was no need to look outside.
Not when Miss Yue Hatake was standing in front of the class.
"Good morning," she said, her voice like caramel sliding over warm toast. "I'll be handling your Applied Systems and Cloud Architecture module for the next three weeks."
That voice. Low-pitched, yet smooth, with a faint rasp that made it sound like she was either always slightly amused or constantly trying not to moan.
Yuki swallowed.
She turned to write her name on the whiteboard. Her blouse rose slightly, revealing a sliver of pale, unblemished skin along her back. Yuki's pen had stopped moving halfway through the lecture title in his notes.
"Yue Hatake..." he muttered under his breath, repeating it like a spell.
He'd heard rumors about her—a model in her youth, married by twenty-three, divorced two years later when her husband couldn't handle her ambition. Now thirty-one, with a flawless track record in her tech research and a cult following in the faculty lounge.
"Today," she said, turning back to face them, "we'll dive into cloud-based infrastructure layers. But first, I want to know—who here actually reads their documentation?"
A collective silence filled the room.
Yuki chuckled under his breath, then raised a hand.
Miss Hatake's gaze found him instantly.
"Ah, finally, a responsible young man. What's your name?"
"Shen Yuo," he said, sitting up straighter. He wasn't used to attention. Not from teachers. Not from women.
Especially not from women like her.
"Good. Shen, can you explain what IaaS is, in your own words?"
He licked his lips, praying he wouldn't stutter. "Infrastructure-as-a-Service. It's a cloud model that provides virtualized computing resources... over the internet."
Miss Hatake nodded, walking closer. "Correct. It's one of the core layers. I'm impressed. That earns you a point in my imaginary gradebook."
Several guys groaned dramatically.
"Hey, what about the rest of us, Miss Hatake?"
"I said reads documentation, not Googles answers five minutes before class," she teased, then leaned against the desk. Her legs crossed slowly, tightly. The class fell quiet again.
Shen's heart was drumming. He tried not to look at the curve of her thigh exposed as her skirt slid slightly upward. He failed.
Miss Hatake's eyes briefly flicked to him. A small smirk teased her lips before she turned back to the whiteboard.
The lecture picked up speed—flowcharts of cloud storage diagrams, real-world applications, security risks. Her mind was a weapon, sharp and beautiful. She used metaphors, jokes, and even an anime reference to get a point across. At one point, she compared IaaS to a ramen shop letting you borrow its kitchen but not the staff or ingredients.
Shen couldn't stop watching her.
Every little movement—how she flicked her hair behind her ear, how she occasionally licked her thumb to turn pages, how she bent ever-so-slightly to adjust her projector. She wasn't trying to be seductive. That was the killer part. She just was.
Midway through the class, she strolled between rows, occasionally checking students' notes. Shen was halfway through sketching a visual architecture model... and unconsciously, just beside it, the outline of her silhouette.
"Mr. Yuo."
Shen jolted. She was beside him.
"Yes?"
She looked down at his notebook.
"Oh," she said, a single eyebrow raised, "That's a very detailed diagram."
He flushed. The cloud sketch was good. The side-drawing of her—partial bust, legs crossed, lips pursed—was even better.
"I-I like drawing. It helps me remember... architecture."
She let out a soft chuckle, and Shen felt his skin burn.
"Well, if it helps you pass... maybe I should pose more often during lectures."
Some of the students nearby overheard and exchanged jealous glances. Miss Hatake stood again, continuing her stroll.
Shen could barely breathe.
After class, while most students packed up, Miss Hatake remained at her desk, typing something into her tablet.
Shen lingered. Part of him knew he should leave. The other part—the one that had been asleep for a long time—wanted to stay just a little longer.
"Shen," she said, without looking up, "you draw very well. Did you ever consider design?"
"Can't afford art school," he replied honestly.
She looked up. "That's a shame. You're clearly talented. Your cloud model was also accurate. It's rare to see someone with both a technical mind and an artistic eye."
He shrugged, unsure what to say. Compliments weren't something he got often.
Miss Hatake studied him. "Are you on scholarship?"
"Yeah. Full ride. I couldn't attend otherwise."
"I thought so," she said. "You have the look of someone who works harder than most."
He blinked. "How... do I look like that?"
She smiled faintly. "Because you were the only one not scrolling on their phone when I walked in."
He smiled, unable to help it. There was warmth in her tone—but not maternal. No, not that. Something else. Something curious.
"I have a feeling," she said, slowly standing, "you're going to go far. Even if you don't believe it yet."
He wanted to say something back, but her eyes held him still.
A long pause stretched between them.
Then she said, softly, "I'll see you next class, Shen."
He walked out in a haze, legs on autopilot.
Everything else faded—the laughter of classmates, the honking from a delivery scooter outside, even the announcement blaring from the hallway speakers.
He clutched his sketchbook tighter.
There was something about her. Not just her body, though God knew that alone could destroy a man's GPA. It was the way she spoke to him. Like she saw him. Like he mattered.
As he stepped out of the east wing, his phone buzzed with a notification.
[MILF Conquest – You've unlocked Chapter 0: The Game Begins.]
Yuki blinked.
The app? He hadn't even touched that game in weeks.
Curious, he tapped it.
The screen shimmered for a second too long, a ripple running through the pixels.
Then it went black.
He frowned, tapped again.
Nothing.
Just the faint echo of Miss Hatake's voice in his memory:
"You have the look of someone who works harder than most."
A strange chill climbed his spine.
The game would have to wait.
For now, his thoughts were still inside that classroom… with her.
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