Chapter 864 - 863- A Seed of Doubt

Chapter 864: Chapter 863- A Seed of Doubt

The hallway was busy.

Students, who had been sleeping, were moving. The morning rush, which filled the corridors with bodies and voices, was a tide. I walked through it. My coat, which was dark, was a contrast to the colorful uniforms. My mask, which was unusual, drew looks. The looks, which were curious and suspicious, were ignored.

Ahead, two figures moved through the crowd. A young man and a young woman. The man, whose face was thin and pale, was walking fast. The woman, whose legs were pressed together, was struggling to keep up.

Aldric and Lyssa. The brother and sister. The minor nobles who had attached themselves to Prince Leo.

Lyssa’s gait was wrong. The way she walked, with her thighs squeezed together and her steps short and careful, was the walk of a woman who had been fucked raw. Her face, which was pretty in a plain way, was contorted with discomfort. Her uniform, which was neat, concealed the marks that were beneath.

"Damn it," she muttered. The words, which were barely audible, were directed at herself. "My legs hurt."

Aldric, who was walking beside her, glanced at her. His face, which was tight with controlled frustration, showed concern and guilt in equal measure.

"Come on," he said. "We cannot do anything. Father would be angry."

Lyssa’s eyes flashed. The anger, which had been simmering beneath the surface, boiled over. Her voice, which had been a mutter, became a hiss.

"If not for Father telling me to get impregnated by that bastard, I would not let him touch me. How can he treat a woman like that? I am nobility, not some street whore."

Aldric flinched. The words, which were true, were a reminder of his own helplessness. His jaw, which had been tight, clenched harder.

"Leo took those arousal pills," Lyssa continued. Her voice, which was bitter, was the voice of a woman who had been used as a vessel for someone else’s rage. "Viagra herbs. Stimulants. Whatever they are called. He took them just to show his anger. To prove he was still a man after what that professor did to him in class. And who paid the price? Me. All night. Like a piece of meat."

"He is the crown prince," Aldric said. The words, which were a reminder, were not a defense. They were a resignation. "We cannot refuse him. Not yet."

"Not yet," Lyssa repeated. The words, which were a promise, were a threat. "When Father’s plan works, that bastard will get what is coming to him."

She looked at her brother. The anger, which had been directed at Leo, shifted. To the practical. To the plan.

"Did you get any message from Father?" she asked.

Aldric nodded. The motion, which was subtle, was confirmation. "Indeed. We have established contact. You just have to stay still. Before we are done, we will handle Leo. And create a clone of him."

Lyssa smiled. The expression, which was cold and calculating, was the smile of a woman who had been wronged and was planning revenge. She walked to the corner of the hallway. The alcove, which was empty, provided privacy.

She opened her uniform. The skirt, which was lifted, revealed her thighs. The skin, which was red and marked, was evidence. She reached under the fabric. Pulled down her panty. The white cotton, which was stained, came off.

She pressed her womb. The motion, which was internal, was a push. The fluid, which had been inside, moved. The seed, which Leo had pumped into her all night, traveled. Down. Through her canal. To the entrance. The fluid, thick and white, leaked from her pussy. She caught it. The bottle, which was small and glass, was positioned. The seed, which dripped, fell into the container. The liquid, which was the crown prince’s cum, was collected.

She sealed the bottle. The cap, which was tight, was closed. She handed it to Aldric.

"Take it to the laboratory," she said. The words, which were clinical, were the words of a woman performing a task she had done before. The collection, which was systematic, was part of the plan. The seed, which was the crown prince’s, was evidence. Material. A resource that would be used.

Aldric took the bottle. His hand, which was steady, held the container. His face, which was pale, showed nothing.

Lyssa pulled up her panty. The fabric, which was thin, slid up. She adjusted her skirt. The uniform, which had been disheveled, was straightened. She stretched her back. The motion, which was a relief after the night, made her wince.

"What are you looking at?" she said. The words, which were sharp, were directed at Aldric. His eyes, which had been on her, were averted.

"What? I do not. Come on. I already have a girlfriend. And you are my sister, damn it."

She poked his belly. The finger, which was playful, was a deflection. "You got an erection, did you not?"

Aldric’s face went red. The flush, which was from embarrassment and shame, was visible. He turned. Walked. The pace, which was fast, was a retreat.

They entered the main hallway. The crowd, which was thick, swallowed them. Students, who were heading to class, were everywhere. The noise, which was a blend of conversations and footsteps, was a wall of sound.

Then he saw her.

Sofia. The half-cow beast-folk, who had been in my bed hours ago, was walking with a group of friends. Her uniform, which was fresh, was clean. Her hair, which was brushed, was neat. Her horns, which were polished, gleamed. Her face, which had been flushed and tear-streaked, was composed. The transformation, which was remarkable, was a testament to her resilience.

She was talking. The words, which were casual and light, were a performance. The girl, who had been fucked unconscious hours ago, was playing the role of a normal student. The act, which was convincing, was a mask.

"By the way," she said to her friends. The tone, which was casual, was the tone of a woman sharing gossip. "I heard that Yuki seems to be having a crush on our new professor."

Her friends, who were walking beside her, reacted. The gasps, which were theatrical, were the gasps of women who loved drama.

"Really?" one said. "The new professor? The one with the mask?"

"He looks smart," another said. The words, which were appreciative, were a seed. "And young. I heard he is the same age as us."

"Same age as us and already a professor," the first one said. "That is impressive. I can see why Yuki would be interested."

The group, which was passing Aldric, was within earshot. Sofia, who had been speaking at a volume that was carefully calibrated, ensured the words reached him. The delivery, which was timed, was precise.

Aldric’s mouth twitched. The muscle, which jumped at the corner of his lip, was a tell. His eyes, which had been forward, shifted. To Sofia. To the group. To the words that were hanging in the air.

Lyssa, who was beside him, noticed. Her eyes, which were sharp, followed his gaze. The smile, which appeared on her face, was a knife.

"Oh," she said. The word, which was sweet and poisonous, was a taunt. "So your girlfriend has a crush on someone. That must be good for her. And I heard the professor is the same age as you. Must be nice, having your girlfriend fancying a man who is smarter, younger, and more powerful than you."