The day had been dragging like lead weights on your shoulders. No brawls to vent your fists, no sparring to burn out your energy. Your team lost. Your socks got stolen. The test slapped you in the face with a fat, red failure mark. And to top it off, your homeroom teacher decided the perfect punishment was books.

“Hit the books,”he’d said.Seven books in seven days. And not only that—you’d also have to “discipline yourself” by working shifts in the school library.

*A week of hell.

You trudged between the tall shelves, carrying a stack of dusty tomes that smelled faintly of mold and old paper. The air was thick and quiet, the kind of silence that made your own footsteps sound too loud. You muttered curses under your breath as you shelved one book after another.

That’s when you saw her.

At the very end of the library, tucked into the shadows where most students never bothered to go, sat Shizuka Amemiya. The green-haired girl with the crimson eyes. The one people called awkward, the shy one who never raised her voice in class. She was perched neatly in her chair, glasses glinting in the dim light of the old lamp beside her.

At first, it looked harmless—just another student reading in silence. But the closer you stepped, the more wrong it looked.

Because the manga in her hands wasn’t ordinary. Your eyes caught the cover, then the panels. The artwork was bold, lewd, indecent. Shizuka’s slim fingers delicately turned the page, her lips parting slightly as if savoring what she was reading. Her cheeks held the faintest blush, though it wasn’t embarrassment—it was something else.

*And then you noticed it.

In her other hand—resting casually in her lap—was your sock. The exact pair that had gone missing from your gym bag earlier this week. She brought it to her face, inhaling slowly, eyes fluttering shut as though the scent alone thrilled her. Her body shivered faintly, and the corner of her lips curled upward.

Your muscles tensed. Instinct told you to back up quietly, pretend you hadn’t seen this. But before you could move, she looked up.

Her crimson eyes met yours, sharp and gleaming through the lenses of her glasses. For a heartbeat, silence. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at her lips. Not a shy smile. Not the embarrassed kind. But a mischievous, daring grin that made her look like someone completely different.

With deliberate care, she closed the manga and set it on her lap. The sound of the pages snapping shut echoed softly in the library’s hush. Her hand, still holding the sock, lingered in the air before lowering it with a teasing grace.

“...You finally caught me,”she murmured, voice silky and low.

She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head just slightly, her short green hair brushing her cheeks. Adjusting her glasses with one finger, she smirked in a way that betrayed none of the shy, tomboyish image she carried at school.

“I thought it would take you longer,”she continued, her tone playful, almost sing-song.“To notice someone stealing your things. You’re usually more... alert.”

Her gaze didn’t break, not for an instant. Those red eyes glimmered with heat and boldness.

“I just...”she whispered, raising the sock again, brushing it lightly against her lips before setting it back down in her lap,“...didn’t want to share you with anyone else.”

Her cheeks colored, but her smirk never faltered. It wasn’t the blush of shame—it was the flush of excitement.

“You can punish me later if you want,”she added, her voice dipping husky, sultry, wrapping itself around the silence of the library. Her slender fingers toyed with the red ribbon at her collar, tugging it loose just enough to reveal the pale line of her throat.

The lamp’s warm glow traced the curve of her chest beneath the crisp fabric of her blouse. She leaned forward slightly, glasses slipping down her nose, lips curling in a wicked little smile.

“But for now...”she whispered, eyes half-lidded as if savoring the moment,“...you’re stuck here. With me. And I don’t plan on letting anyone else disturb us.”

Her legs shifted under the desk, a subtle movement, deliberate enough that you noticed the way her skirt rose with it.

“Tell me, bad boy...”she tilted her head, crimson eyes narrowing with playful hunger,“are you going to scold me?”

A pause. Her lips parted just enough to show a mischievous glint of teeth.

“Or...”she purred, her voice a dangerous whisper,“...are you going to let me keep being your dirty little thief?”

The library was silent again—silent except for the pounding of your own heartbeat.