As Sakar trudged along, pulling his heavily laden cart back towards the pile of furniture, he felt an unexpected tingling sensation. His "sexar," a unique sixth sense that alerted him to impending sexy scenarios, suddenly activated. Confused, he thought, *'How the hell could something sexy happen around here? This place is practically deserted.'*
Despite his doubts, Sakar knew better than to question his sexar; it had never steered him wrong. It had always unerringly guided him to encounters that highlighted the beauty of female legs—a particular fascination of his that bordered on an outright fetish.
Intrigued and a bit excited, he followed the direction indicated by his sexar, which pointed him straight back to where the furniture was piled up. He couldn't imagine who he would find there except perhaps Miss Sorella, as it seemed unlikely any other woman would be in such a secluded spot. With this thought, he quickened his pace, eager not to miss whatever event his sexar had detected, his curiosity piqued about the potential encounter ahead.
As Sakar neared the principal building, his anticipation heightened with each step. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected. Approaching from the opposite direction were three figures: two girls and one boy. One of the girls immediately caught his attention—she was strikingly beautiful, dressed in a way that highlighted her pale, alabaster skin. Her appearance was so luminous, almost ethereal, that she seemed to glow. This girl was the whitest person Sakar had ever seen, her skin almost paper-white.
Beside her walked a boy whose skin was as dark as coal, creating a stark contrast between them. Sakar initially thought that their proximity to each other might be exaggerating their skin tones, making her appear even paler and him even darker.
However, as Sakar drew closer, he realized that his initial assumption was mistaken. Their skin colors were indeed that distinct without any optical illusion caused by contrast. The vivid difference between them was real and quite striking on its own. He wondered why these people were here.
As Sakar closed the distance between them, the trio—Olga, Kepyun, and Wrath—exchanged glances but remained silent, perhaps sizing each other up or simply lost in their thoughts. Suddenly, a gust of wind whipped through the area, catching Olga's short dress unexpectedly. For a brief moment, her underwear flashed into view. Though the others were too close or angled incorrectly to see, Sakar had a clear line of sight.
That moment of exposure clicked for Sakar, explaining the earlier alert from his sexar. It had all led up to this revealing incident. However, instead of reacting discreetly or with typical social decorum, Sakar couldn't hold back his immediate reaction. "PINK FRILLY!" he blurted out loudly, unable to contain his surprise or filter his words.
Kepyun and Wrath turned to him with expressions of confusion and bewilderment, not understanding the context of his outburst. Only Olga, mortified, realized exactly why Sakar had exclaimed so abruptly. She instantly wished she hadn't understood, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration as she quickly smoothed down her dress, casting a sharp glare at Sakar.
Sakar's impulsive shout had broken the ice in the most awkward way possible.
"SO WHAT?" Olga retorted defiantly, her voice cutting through the awkward silence that followed Sakar's outburst. Both Kepyun and Wrath turned to her, their expressions filled with confusion. She responded with a hint of irritation, "Don't look at me like that. He saw my panty and described it."
Unlike most who might feel embarrassed in such a situation, Olga stood unashamed and matter-of-fact. This revelation only made Wrath blush deeper, and she quickened her pace, wanting to distance herself from the uncomfortable conversation. Kepyun, unfazed by the personal nature of the incident and seeing it as unrelated to him, decided to introduce himself to Sakar instead: "Hi! I am Kepyun, four of us will be a team from now on for at least a year. It seems like you don't have any muscle. So leave the fighting to me."
Sakar, observing this unusual pair, critiqued them silently. *A girl that is shameless, a boy that speaks about muscle in his greeting. They found people more stupid than I am. Congratulations to Miss Sorella.* But then he thought, *But it's alright. Everybody calls me stupid, so I may be one. This team would work.*
Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind—an idea he thought brilliant. *Since there was a team, it needed a leader.*
"TIPS ON LEADERSHIP!" he shouted, trying to assert some sort of command or initiative.
Just as he finished his declaration, a swift, unexpected blow struck him. It felt like a wooden plank had hit him squarely in the stomach. He crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain. To his shock, it was Wrath who had moved quicker than he'd anticipated and delivered the punishing punch.
Kepyun and Olga were just as stunned. Neither had expected Wrath, who had previously only quickened her pace to distance herself from the conversation, to suddenly lash out with such force. As Sakar lay on the ground, trying to catch his breath and make sense of what just happened, Wrath approached him, her expression unreadable.
The dynamics within this newly formed team were unpredictable and charged, a mixture of personalities and temperaments that promised as much conflict as cooperation.
As Sakar lay on the ground, grappling with the pain and the shock of the sudden attack, he managed to sputter out, "WHY DID YOU HIT ME? WHAT DID I DO TO YOU?" He was accustomed to taking a beating now and then, but there was always a clear reason behind it, something he could understand and address.
Wrath, who had been tense and largely silent up to this point, now seemed somewhat more relaxed, as if delivering the punch had released some of her pent-up frustration. "You looked underskirt of her. Dirty pervert!" she accused sharply, her voice carrying a mix of disgust and anger.
Sakar, still confused and hurting, responded defensively, "This is a problem between her and me. What is it to you?" His tone was a mix of irritation and genuine curiosity, trying to understand why Wrath felt compelled to intervene so forcefully in what he viewed as a personal issue between him and Olga.
"I was angry and needed some trivial reason to beat someone to relax. I thought you wanted to lead us, is this how you are going to do it? Getting down with the punches of a small, weak girl such as me."
"YOU ARE NOT WEAK AT ALL! YOUR PUNCH FELT LIKE WOOD!" Sakar blurted out, still on the defensive yet trying to acknowledge her strength.
"So you agree that I am small?" Wrath shot back, picking on part of his statement.
"Is this what you understand from my sentence?" Sakar replied, frustrated by the turn of the conversation.
"I said that I am weak and small and you objected to only the 'weak' part," Wrath pointed out with a slight smirk.
"Because you are right about being small. Look, how short you are!" As soon as Sakar said that, he realized he might have made a mistake as Wrath's relaxed expression vanished, replaced by a look of burgeoning anger.
Anticipating another assault, Sakar instinctively covered his face with his hands. But before he could react further, ivy sprang from the ground, wrapping around his limbs and immobilizing him. Wrath advanced slowly, her earlier calm replaced by a determined stride.
"Now that I look at you again, you are tall," Sakar tried to appease her, his voice muffled behind his hands.
"Who are you kidding?" Wrath retorted, unamused.
"Will you beat me regardless of what I say?" Sakar asked, resignation seeping into his voice.
"I will beat you for calling me small. If you say that I am tall, I will beat you for lying," Wrath declared, her resolve clear.
Even Olga, who was known for her own unreasonable moments, listened to this exchange with a mix of amusement and concern. 'Wow, what a girl. More unreasonable than I am. But this should stop.'
"Hey, It was Wrath, am I right?" Olga interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.
"Yes," Wrath responded, not taking her eyes off Sakar.
"Could you forsake the idea of beating him?" Olga suggested, her tone cautious.
"Why?" Wrath questioned, her stance unwavering.
"We are a party now, it may affect all of us if he becomes injured," Olga reasoned, hoping to appeal to Wrath's sense of team unity.
"It makes sense, what if I beat him enough so that he would not get injured?" Wrath considered, half-jokingly.
"Let's not do that. At least for this time..." Olga concluded, attempting to broker peace.
Wrath paused, her confusion evident as she tried to process Olga's words.
"I am the victim and I can defend myself," Olga stated confidently.
Wrath's expression shifted between anger and puzzlement. *Why would she defend him?* she thought. From Wrath's perspective, she was administering justice to a pervert, not oppressing an innocent.
"I am a victim too. I witnessed the situation and became embarrassed thanks to him. He caused me to be embarrassed,"
Olga, seeing Wrath's hesitation, realized that her approach was leading nowhere with someone as headstrong and impulsive as Wrath. She decided to change tactics, pointing to the practical concerns awaiting them. "Let him go. We still need to move the furniture. Don't you see it? There are too many."