An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge - Chapter 276

Chapter 276: Who is she?
The morning sun sliced through the smear-marked floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the absolute devastation of the bedroom.

Arthur woke first, his body heavy but humming with a strange, satisfied energy. The air in the room was thick, suffocatingly musky with the scent of sex—dried sweat, the metallic tang of saliva, and the pungent, bleach-like smell of old cum.

He shifted slightly, wincing as the sheet peeled away from his skin with a sticky sound. Sol was draped over him like a blanket, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Her golden hair was a tangled bird’s nest, and dried white streaks mapped the trails of their night across her stomach and thighs.

Arthur smirked, running a hand down her naked back, stopping to squeeze her ass cheek.

“Wake up, glutton.”

“Mmmph…” Sol groaned, tightening her grip on him. “Five more years…”

“You were begging for ‘more’ just a few hours ago,” Arthur teased, his voice rough with sleep. He leaned down, biting the sensitive cord of her neck. “Or has the ‘Great System’ finally run out of stamina?”

Sol’s eyes snapped open, gold irises hazy but narrowing instantly. She pushed herself up, wincing as she sat back on her heels. Her pussy was swollen, the lips puffy and red, and a slow leak of his seed trickled out of her as she moved.

“I have infinite stamina,” she grumbled, though her voice cracked. She looked down at the mess covering her breasts and stomach—the dried evidence of his climax. She flushed, covering herself with her arms. “I… I’m sticky.”

“You’re a masterpiece,” Arthur corrected, sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed. He stretched, his back cracking. “But we both smell like a brothel. Shower. Now.”

He didn’t wait for her. He walked to the bathroom, naked and unabashed. Sol followed a moment later, her walk slightly unsteady, a little wide-legged. The sight made Arthur’s dick twitch, blood rushing south despite the marathon they’d just run.

He turned on the shower, steam instantly filling the glass enclosure. As soon as the water hit them, Sol sighed, leaning her forehead against the tiled wall.

Arthur grabbed the soap, lathering his hands. “Turn around.”

Sol obeyed. Arthur began to wash her, his soapy hands gliding over her shoulders, down her spine, and over the curve of her hips. He cleaned the dried fluids from her skin, but as his hands slipped between her legs to wash her swollen entrance, the atmosphere shifted.

Sol let out a sharp gasp, arching her back against him. “Arthur… it’s sensitive.”

“Is it?” He whispered, pressing his hardening cock against her wet ass cheeks. He slid two soapy fingers inside her. She was still incredibly loose from the night before, welcoming him easily. “You feel ready to me.”

“We… we have to go to the Academy,” Sol breathed, though she pushed her hips back against him, seeking the friction.

“A quickie,” Arthur growled. “Just to seal the deal.”

He didn’t bother with foreplay this time. The water sluiced over them, making everything slick and slippery. He grabbed her hip, lifted her leg, and thrust into her from behind in one smooth motion.

Schlick.

“Ahhh!” Sol cried out, the sound echoing off the tiles.

It was fast, dirty, and utilitarian. Arthur pounded into her, the water crashing down on their heads. There was no romance here, just the raw need to be inside her one last time. Sol braced her hands against the wall, her nails scraping the grout as she met his thrusts.

Slap-slap-slap-slap.

The sound of wet skin colliding was deafening in the small space.

“Fuck, you’re so slippery,” Arthur grunted, gripping her waist to keep them steady. He drove deep, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

“Cum,” Sol begged, her head thrown back, water streaming down her face. “Fill me up again, Arthur!”

He didn’t last long. With a guttural roar, he buried his face in her wet hair and unloaded inside her, his legs shaking from the exertion. He held her there for a long moment, the water washing away the sweat as he pumped the last drops of his seed into her.

****

Ten minutes later, the steam was beginning to clear.

They stepped out of the bathroom, drying off with hasty, rough motions. Arthur wrapped a towel around his waist, water dripping from his hair onto his chest. Sol, feeling lazy and perhaps a bit possessive, didn’t bother with her own clothes. Instead, she grabbed one of Arthur’s white dress shirts from the chair, slipping it on.

It swallowed her frame, the hem hitting her mid-thigh, but she left the top buttons undone, exposing the deep cleavage and the red marks Arthur had left on her neck.

“You look ridiculous,” Arthur laughed, walking over to the dresser to find fresh underwear.

“I look comfortable,” Sol retorted, flopping onto the edge of the ruined bed. She kicked her feet, looking at the mess of sheets. “Though… we might need to burn this mattress. It smells like…”

“Like a sin,” Arthur finished, grinning. “A Count-level demon is dead, Sol. We earned a little sin.”

He was just about to drop his towel to put on his boxers when the sound of the electronic lock disengaging beeped through the room.

Beep. Click.

Arthur froze. Sol froze.

The heavy door to the dorm room swung open.

“Arthur, it’s time for the academy. We will be la—”

She took two steps into the room and stopped dead.

The scene before her was incriminating beyond words.

The room smelled violently of sex—a heavy, musky odor that no amount of ventilation could clear in ten minutes. The bed looked like a tornado had hit it; sheets torn off, pillows on the floor, wet patches visible on the mattress. The study desk was cleared, books scattered on the floor. The window was smeared with handprints and fluids.

And in the center of it all stood Arthur, naked save for a towel, hair wet from a shower.

And sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but Arthur’s oversized shirt, with legs spread comfortably and hair wild and tangled, was a woman Alicia had never seen before. A woman with golden eyes who looked thoroughly, thoroughly fucked.

Alicia’s blue eyes went wide. Her gaze snapped from the ruined bed, to the smeared window, to the woman wearing her fiancé’s shirt, and finally to Arthur.

The silence that stretched between the three of them was heavy enough to crush bone.

Alicia’s gaze shifted slowly from Sol to Arthur. Her eyes, usually so warm, turned icy cold. The air temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees as her mana flared instinctively.

“Arthur,” Alicia said, her voice terrifyingly calm. “Who is she?”