“Ingrid, didn’t I say that before coming to see me… you must inform me first?”
“Teacher… what are you… doing??????”
Peering through the narrow gap of the door, Ingrid was unwilling to open it any further. For one, she still remembered that Ange was her teacher, and the fact that she had already damaged the doorknob was troublesome enough. If she pushed the door open wider to snoop inside, that would be the height of rudeness.
Of course, all those reasons didn’t matter at this moment. The real reason Ingrid dared not open the door any wider was simple—she had witnessed a scene she couldn’t comprehend.
Ange, her teacher with the appearance of a silver-haired noble lady, was not necessarily the strict type, but at the very least… should be normal.
Then… then then then… what was Ange doing?! She was lying on her bed, holding a White Gun pointed at her own—her own—crotch!
I don’t get it! I don’t understand! I can’t make sense of this! Yet somehow it seems impressive!
Ingrid felt as though she had just glimpsed something terrible, a horror that could shatter her worldview and overturn her very understanding.
The panic even made her forget that she should have closed the door and left ages ago.
“Ingrid…”
Ange’s voice sank low.
“Teacher… huh?!”
The cold, dark muzzle of the gun pressed squarely against Ingrid’s forehead, shining glaringly in the light. Ange’s movements were so fast Ingrid couldn’t track them; in just a moment of distraction, the chilling sensation of metal was already against her skin.
“If you want to become a qualified Demon Hunter, first, you must obey orders. You never know just how severe the consequences of disobedience can be.”
“Y-yes! I’m sorry! It was my mistake!”
Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.
However, what broke the tense, instructive atmosphere was the sudden vibration coming from the White Gun in Ange’s hand. Ingrid couldn’t be sure if she was seeing things, but she was certain that something seemed to be dripping from the muzzle of the gun.
The scene froze awkwardly like this. No matter how she wracked her brain, Ingrid couldn’t understand why anyone would install a vibrating function on a gun barrel.
“You make me angry, very disappointed, Ingrid. Is this all a Noble Lady of a great family is capable of? Such poor control over your strength, no sense of following orders at all. Do you know, if this were a battlefield, I would even have the authority to execute you on the spot.”
Left speechless by Ange’s words, Ingrid could only stare at her own toes. Besides her own feet wrapped in Custom Black Boots, she also caught sight of Ange’s feet. The toes of the silver-haired noble lady were extremely neat, though it seemed she didn’t pay much attention to her nails. Ingrid couldn’t help but worry that she might poke a hole in her stockings.
“This is the last warning. If it happens again, you’d better pray you can leave the Academy alive.”
“Understood…”
Finally letting out a sigh of relief, Ingrid couldn’t bear to stay a moment longer. She quickly spun around and darted out of Ange’s room, completely forgetting everything she’d wanted to say before.
At this moment, she was utterly convinced that Ange was a seasoned Demon Hunter who had stepped back from the front lines for some reason.
Even though she wore stockings with not a shred of intimidation, didn’t even have shoes on, and her upper body was clad in nothing but close-fitting underwear—with the Magic Mark on her flawless Majia Line glowing faintly—even so, that razor-sharp aura could not be concealed.
Ingrid scurried back to her own room as fast as her legs could carry her, vowing never again to make Ange angry.
Back in Ange’s room, Ange glanced at her door, which couldn’t be properly closed anymore, and wished she could just use the White Gun in her hand to put a bullet through her own forehead.
Unfortunately, such an attack probably wouldn’t even kill her.
“Damn problem child, where’s your manners? Where’s your etiquette? Not even knocking? And after I specifically said to inform me first…”
She really was going crazy. Why was being a teacher so exhausting? It was only the first day, and only one of her three students had even arrived so far. Was this meant to kill her?
Did she see? Yes, Ange knew. Ingrid must have seen. She could only hope the girl didn’t understand, or perhaps…
She was just massaging. Even if massaging with a gun looked bizarre, it was just a massage, right? Just the location was a little sensitive, that’s all.
“Damn Succubus, I really want to drag her back from hell and stab her to pieces…”
This was her life now. Once the number one Demon Hunter, now, under the full name of Angelina, she was tormented daily by these uncontrollable circumstances.
This wasn’t as simple as stuffing in a vibrating egg. Her consciousness could be eroded, and when the madness hit, she really might start grinding against the corner of a table.
For example, if one looked carefully at the desk in her room now, the two outer corners were already cracked and leaking, some stains unable to be wiped clean no matter what.
“Sigh—”
Lying back helplessly on her bed, Ange glanced once more at her door that wouldn’t shut, feeling utterly weary.
Her good student, Ingrid—if you really want to do something nice for your teacher, then hurry up and find the world’s finest toy for me.
After a few more minutes, finally finished, Ange put the White Gun away.
When she picked up her phone, she saw that dozens of new messages had piled up—all from Ingrid.
“Teacher… I’m so sorry… I’m really sorry… clasping my fists in apology…”
“I mean, sorry, not clasping fists.”
“I’ll try to get your door fixed. It’ll be done tomorrow.”
“Could you tell me what you were doing? I truly… cannot understand…”
“Why were you pointing a pistol at your own… that place…”
“Was it some kind of mysterious ritual? If so, what is its effect? Can I learn it?”
“It seems your room doesn’t have air conditioning. I’ll have one installed for you tomorrow as well.”
“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”
“Really sorry!”
Ugh… this brat…
Ange ended up giving in after all. For one, she was truly a bit bored.
Ever since she left the front lines, there wasn’t much to do here besides playing games and watching movies.
After the people she knew at the Academy found out about her Curse, only Rita, that troublesome woman, kept in touch.
Secondly, this little rich girl really was loaded. Looking at the messages on her phone, Ange’s mouth curled into a sly grin like a dirty old man.
Only an idiot would refuse free stuff. Anyway, this student wasn’t short on money, and she was her teacher, so it was only right for her to spend a little more.
“Teacher, you should trim your nails, or else your stockings might get torn.”
“And, your Majia Line is so perfect, why do you hide it?”
Idiot… If I don’t hide it, am I supposed to show my Magic Mark to everyone?
Looks like my student is not just a problem child but a simpleton as well. Sigh, she’s really not giving me any peace.