Harem System In A fantasy World - Chapter 98: Do you hate me?

Chapter 98: Do you hate me?

The moment he stepped back into the corridor, it was like walking into a storm.

Students surged toward him, their voices overlapping, questions flying from every direction.

“How high did you score?”

“Elion! Did you make it past level 20?”

“Hey, Elion—did the glyph turn gold?”

He didn’t slow his steps, and he didn’t answer any of their questions.

In fact, he didn’t even spare any of them a glance.

Instead, he scanned the crowd once, found who he was looking for, and made a straight beeline through the chaos.

Mira.

A sharp click of a tongue sounded behind him.

“Damn,” someone muttered loudly. “Gets a little powerful and now he thinks he’s better than all of us.”

“Tch,” another voice sneered. “What do you expect from a commoner, Tian? They all have no manners and no respect.”

A few ugly chuckles followed.

Elion heard them.

Putting them in their place would be easy for him now, but he didn’t even consider it. He didn’t think that was beneath him; he simply didn’t care for their thoughts.

Their words washed over him without so much as a change in expression from him, his focus was already locked onto the figure ahead. Mira stood a short distance away near the edge of the corridor, her posture was relaxed, her expression amused—

—and she wasn’t alone.

Is that…Isolde!?

Elion’s steps slowed just a fraction.

The elf stood opposite Mira, hands clasped tightly in front of her, hair cascading down her back.

Where did Lyra go? He looked around, only to find that she was nowhere in sight. He assumed she had something to take care of, or Mira had somehow managed to get rid of her.

Did Mira read my mind or something…? Elion thought.

Isolde looked as if she’d been mid-sentence when Elion approached—because the moment she noticed him, she froze.

Completely.

Her eyes widened, her lips parted slightly, and for a heartbeat, it genuinely looked like she’d forgotten how to breathe.

Mira also noticed him instantly. Her smile widened with unmistakable satisfaction as she turned fully toward him, then glanced back at Isolde, whose ears were already turning a faint shade of pink.

“Well,” Mira said lightly, stepping forward. “Looks like you’re all done. I have no doubt you did spectacularly.”

She leaned in close, close enough that only he could hear her, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Good luck with her.”

Then she skipped away.

Just like that.

Elion stood there, eyes widening as the meaning hit him a second too late.

How did she know!?

Isolde was still frozen, staring at the spot Mira had vacated, clearly struggling to recover from both the sudden abandonment and Elion’s presence.

Her fingers tightened in the fabric of her sleeve, and when she finally looked up at him, her face flushed all the way to the tips of her ears.

Neither of them spoke.

For a moment, the noise of the corridor faded into the background, leaving only the awkward tension hanging between them—thick, fragile, and ready to snap at the slightest movement.

Elion opened his mouth, then hesitated, and then he broke the silence.

“Isolde,” he said, his tone unexpectedly serious. “Have you… been avoiding me?”

The question landed softly—and it hit her hard.

Isolde froze where she stood, shoulders stiffening. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I—I—” she tried, but the words tangled together and refused to come out. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her sleeve as she stared anywhere but at him.

Elion watched her for a second longer, then exhaled quietly. “It’s okay,” he said, gentler now. “I’m not blaming you or anything. It just… makes me wonder if I did something wrong. Or if you’re mad at me about something.”

He offered a small, earnest smile. “I won’t ever know if you don’t talk to me.”

Isolde shifted uncomfortably, her long ears twitching, the motion causing a stray lock of her golden blonde hair to brush against the curve of her collarbone, drawing the eye to the delicate hollow of her throat. She stayed silent, her full lips parting slightly as if tasting the air.

Elion’s brow creased, a hint of crafted vulnerability flickering across his face and in his voice. “Isolde… do you hate me?”

Her eyes widened in panic as she looked up at him.

“N–No! No, of course not!” she blurted out, shaking her head so quickly her hair swayed. “It’s just— it’s not that, I—” She faltered again, clearly struggling, eyes darting around as if afraid he might misunderstand her words, no matter how she framed them.

Then Elion chuckled.

The tension eased instantly.

“Okay,” he said lightly. “I was starting to think I’d somehow committed a crime without realizing it.”

Before she could react, he lifted his hand and gently flicked a loose strand of her blonde hair back behind her ear, touching her ear briefly as he withdrew his hand.

“You know,” he added with a grin, “you look beautiful when you’re flustered. It’s like the world pauses just to watch you short-circuit.”

Isolde’s face turned bright red in an instant.

“Elion!” she squeaked, instinctively bringing her hands up to her cheeks. For a second, she genuinely looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

Her lithe frame quivered with embarrassment, her knees locking together as if to steady the sudden rush of warmth spreading everywhere.

But then—slowly—she smiled.

It was small at first. And shy, but it was real, her lips curved in a way that revealed the plumpness of her lower one, it looked moist and inviting.

“…You’re impossible,” she murmured.

“Only on good days,” he replied easily.

After that, the conversation began to flow, as if a dam had finally broken.

They talked about classes—about how absurd Professor Eveline’s expectations were, about Selene’s terrifying enthusiasm during combat drills, about Eveline’s moods and how unpredictable her lessons could be.

Isolde complained about Lyra hovering around her like a guard dog recently, and Elion admitted he was slightly terrified of her glares. They laughed about it, the sound lighthearted and free.

Elion told her about patrol duty—about how boring it usually was, and how Liora somehow managed to make even silence exhausting. Isolde shared stories from her homeland, about forests that sang when the wind passed through them and trees older than kingdoms. At some point, she relaxed enough to meet his eyes without flinching.

When the corridor began to empty, Elion tilted his head slightly. “Hey… do you want to keep pairing up in spellcasting class? Like we usually do.”

Isolde blinked, her long lashes fluttering against her still-pink cheeks.

Then she nodded eagerly. “Yes. I mean— I’d like that. A lot.”

Relief softened her features, and inwardly, she sighed.

There was no need to avoid him, she thought. No need to be so weird about it.

Whatever she’d seen that day—he probably had his reasons.

…Probably.

Her cheeks warmed as the unwanted memories tried to resurface, a fresh wave of heat pooling in her groin. She wondered if he had had sex with Mira and Aria the same way he had the nurse—his thing thrusting deep into them, making them gasp and arch as he pounded them relentlessly, just like he had with that woman, their bodies shuddering under his assault.

The image sent a forbidden thrill through her, her own treasured place clenching with a mix of jealousy and aching desire.

She shook her head quickly, as if physically banishing the thought, the motion sending her blonde waves bouncing and her skirt swishing against her thighs.

The motion was so sudden and adorable that Elion burst out laughing.

“What?” she protested, mortified, her voice pitching higher as she crossed her arms under her breasts, unintentionally lifting them in a display of flustered vulnerability.

“Nothing,” he said, still chuckling. “You just looked like you were fighting your own thoughts.”

Isolde turned even redder, the blush deepening to a crimson that made her lips seem fuller and more kissable by contrast.

At least, this time, she didn’t run away.