Saintia's Invitation

The morning sunlight streamed through the office blinds, cutting neat strips of light across the floor. Fine dust motes floated in the air, swirling slowly in the beams, as if time itself had slowed down. The teacher sat behind his desk, his fingers swiping across the tablet screen, processing the backlog of documents from the previous night. His movements were somewhat mechanical, and his eyes were a little unfocused.

I fell asleep in the office last night. When I woke up it was 3 a.m., I found myself lying on the sofa with a thin blanket over me. The office was empty, with only moonlight streaming in through the window, casting cold, dappled light on the floor. On the coffee table sat a cup of now-cold black tea and a note.

The note was written in Nagisa's elegant handwriting: "Teacher, get some rest. See you tomorrow."

The handwriting was familiar, the tone gentle—everything was exactly like the Nagisa in the teacher's memory. But the teacher knew that wasn't Nagisa. It was someone in black, wearing Nagisa's skin, playing Nagisa's role, setting a gentle trap.

He picked up the note, looked at it for a long time, then crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the trash can. But those tender memories, those caring touches, those understanding words... entwined around his heart like vines, impossible to shake off easily.

Just then, the tablet vibrated.

It's a message notification sound from Momotalk.

The teacher picked up her tablet; a new message appeared on the screen. The sender was Shengya.

"Good morning, teacher. I have some thoughts about recent events. If it's convenient for you, please come to the special reading room in Trinity Library. I have a way to resolve the current problem. — St. Ya"

The message was short and direct, but the teacher could sense its deeper meaning. Saintia, the tea party chairwoman who always seemed to see the future, the girl who told him in the hallway, "What you see isn't always the truth." What did she know? Did she really have a way to get to her?

Without hesitation, the teacher replied immediately, "I'm coming over now."

He stood up, straightened his shirt collar, picked up his coat, and walked out of the office. The corridor was quiet, with only the sound of his own footsteps echoing. Trinity College was not yet fully awake in the early morning; occasionally, a few early risers could be seen hurrying by, carrying prayer books or textbooks, talking quietly to each other.

The library, located in the heart of the academy, is an old Gothic building, its exterior walls covered in ivy, its spires gleaming softly in the morning light. The teacher pushed open the heavy oak door and entered the hall. The air was filled with the mingled scents of old books, parchment, and wood wax—the aroma of time itself.

The special reading room was located at the far end of the library, requiring one to walk through several rows of tall bookshelves to reach it. The teacher followed the signs, his footsteps standing out clearly in the spacious hall. The area between the bookshelves was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages turning and the soft sounds of a librarian tidying up books in the distance.

Finally, he arrived at the door of the special reading room.

The door was ajar, and warm light shone through the crack. The teacher gently pushed the door open and went inside.

The reading room was small, but exquisitely furnished. The walls were covered with dark wood paneling, and several old oil paintings depicting historical scenes of the Holy Trinity hung on them. In the center of the room was a large oak round table, surrounded by several high-backed chairs. Against the wall were several bookshelves filled with heavy ancient books and manuscripts.

Saintia sat at the round table.

She wasn't wearing her tea party attire today, but instead opted for a relatively simple white dress. Her light blonde hair was loosely tied into a bun at the back of her head, with a few strands falling to her sides. Her fox ears twitched slightly, and her gradient-colored eyes shimmered softly under the lamplight. A golden halo—shaped like a Christian cross—floated above her head, radiating a warm golden glow.

A thick, ancient book lay open before her, her fingers gently tracing the words on the pages, her movements elegant and focused. Hearing the door open, she looked up, saw her teacher, and a gentle smile appeared on her lips.

"Teacher, you've arrived," she said, her voice soft and gentle, like a feather brushing against the air. "Please sit down."

The teacher sat down in the chair opposite her. The round table was large, and there was a distance between the two of them, but Saintia's gaze seemed to penetrate that distance and see directly into the depths of the teacher's heart.

“You look tired,” Saintia said softly, closing the book in front of her. “Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

"It's alright," the teacher said, her voice a little hoarse. "Shengya, you said in the message...you had a way?"

Saintia nodded. She didn't answer immediately, but stood up, walked to the window, turned her back to the teacher, and looked at the morning light outside. Her long, light golden hair shimmered softly in the morning light, and her fox tail swayed gently behind her, the white ribbon at the tip fluttering slightly with her movements.

“The teacher knows my abilities,” she said softly, her voice exceptionally clear in the quiet reading room. “I can see the future. Or rather… the possibilities of the future.”

She turned around, her gradient-colored eyes staring directly at the teacher.

“These past few days, I’ve seen many possibilities. Some are wonderful, some are terrifying. But there’s one path… a path that can solve the current problem.”

The teacher's hand clenched slightly under the table: "What path?"

Saintia walked back to the table, but instead of sitting down, she took out a small glass bottle from her purse. The bottle was very small, only about the size of a thumb, and contained a clear liquid that shimmered with a faint blue fluorescence under the light.

“This,” she said, placing the bottle on the table and pushing it in front of the teacher, “is something I… somehow obtained. A special medicine.”

The teacher picked up the bottle and examined it closely. The bottle was very light, and the liquid inside looked as clear as water, but upon closer inspection, one could see countless tiny specks of light suspended in the liquid, slowly rotating like stars in the night sky.

"What is this?" the teacher asked.

“A potion that can make a person’s skin detach,” Saintia said, her voice calm, but with a barely perceptible tremor. “If… if the man in black really is wearing someone’s skin, as long as this potion is applied to the seams of the skin, or… if the potion is somehow introduced into his body, the skin will automatically detach and he will return to his original state.”

The teacher gripped the bottle tightly. The bottle was cold, but the teacher could feel the warmth in her palms.

"You mean... this can save Nagisa? Save Mika?" His voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement.

Saintia nodded, but her expression was somewhat complicated. Her gradient-colored eyes looked at the teacher, a kind of elusive light flickering in them.

“Theoretically yes,” she said softly, “but the teacher must be careful. This medicine… is very precious and fragile. It must be used at the right time, in the right place, and in the right way. Otherwise… it may be ineffective.”

She leaned forward, placed her hands on the table, and tightened her fingers slightly.

“My suggestion is,” she said softly, her voice carrying a certain meaning, “to find an opportunity for… intimate contact. For example… during a kiss. Hold the **** in your mouth, and then… let the **** enter his body through a kiss. This way, the **** can act directly on the inside of his skin, and the effect will be best.”

The teacher looked at the bottle in her hand, then at Shengya. Her expression was serious and sincere; everything seemed so real and believable.

"Why are you helping me?" the teacher asked, her voice tinged with wariness.

Saintia smiled; it was a gentle, understanding smile.

“Because I’m the president of the tea party,” she said softly. “Because Nagisa and Mika are my companions. Because… I don’t want to see more students suffer.”

She reached out and gently touched the back of the teacher's hand. The touch of her fingers was soft and warm.

“Teacher, I believe in you,” she said, her gradient-colored eyes shining with sincerity. “I believe you can save them. I believe you can… end all of this.”

The teacher looked into her eyes for a long time. Those eyes, which could see into the future, were now filled with trust and expectation. Everything seemed so reasonable, so believable.

Finally, the teacher nodded.

“Thank you, Saintia,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “I will do as you say.”

He carefully put the bottle into his pocket and then stood up.

“I’ll go back and prepare now,” he said. “Tonight… I’ll find an opportunity.”

Saintia also stood up and walked to the teacher. She was a little shorter than the teacher and had to tilt her head slightly to look the teacher in the eye.

“Teacher, please be careful,” she said softly, gently adjusting the teacher’s collar with her fingers. “The man in black is cunning and dangerous. Don’t let him notice anything unusual.”

Her fingers lingered on the teacher's collar for a few seconds, the movement gentle and natural. Then, she took a step back and bowed slightly.

"May God bless you," she said, her voice as soft as a prayer.

The teacher nodded, turned and left the reading room.

The door closed gently behind him.

The reading room returned to silence. Only the morning light streamed through the windows, casting warm dappled patterns on the floor.

Saintia stood there, staring at the closed door for a long time.

Then, she smiled.

That wasn't a gentle smile, not an understanding smile, but a... cold, smug, calculating smile.

The corners of its mouth slowly widened, its gradient-colored eyes narrowed slightly, and a dangerous glint flashed in its gaze. Its fox ears twitched excitedly, and its tail swayed gently behind it, the white ribbon at the tip trembling slightly like a viper's forked tongue.

Everything is going according to plan.

She walked to the window and watched her teacher's figure cross the square in front of the library and gradually disappear into the morning light. Her fingers unconsciously traced the wooden grain of the window frame, the movement as gentle as if she were caressing some precious treasure.

“Teacher…” she said softly, her voice no longer the gentle and elegant tone of Saintia, but a deep, magnetic voice belonging to the man in black, “You are so naive.”

She turned around, leaning against the window, her arms crossed over her chest. The soft fabric of her long white dress clung to her body, outlining her beautiful curves. The outline of her breasts was clearly visible in the morning light, her waist slender, and her hips rounded. Dark gray pantyhose encased her long, shapely legs, gleaming subtly in the morning light.

Her fingers slid to the edge of her skirt and gently lifted it. The top of the pantyhose revealed the fair skin of her upper thighs, a striking contrast to the dark gray of the stockings. Her fingers continued upwards, gliding over her lower abdomen, finally resting between her legs.

It's already damp there.

Through the fabric of my underwear and pantyhose, I could clearly feel the heat and moisture there. Gently pressing with my fingers brought a subtle pleasure.

“That potion…” she said softly, her voice full of sarcasm, “is not something that makes your skin peel off at all. It’s a special… sedative I made.”

Her fingers began to gently rub, circling through the fabric in that damp area. The movements were slow and rhythmic.

“A sleeping potion specially prepared for teachers,” she continued, her voice tinged with smugness. “Just a little bit is enough to make teachers…sleep very, very soundly. So soundly that…they know nothing and feel nothing.”

Her breathing quickened slightly. Her fingers moved faster, rubbing more vigorously. The fabric of her pantyhose rustled softly from the friction, a sound particularly clear in the quiet reading room.

“When the teacher tries to feed me through kissing…” she gasped, her voice filled with anticipation, “he will find that I’m fine. Absolutely fine. But he himself… will slowly collapse and slowly lose consciousness.”

Her other hand joined in. Both hands together, through the fabric, rubbed rapidly against that moist area. Her fingers found the most sensitive spot, pressing and stimulating it intensely.

“Then…” her voice became broken, her breathing more rapid, “I will put Nagisa’s skin on Teacher. Let Teacher… become Nagisa. And I… I will put on Teacher’s skin.”

Her body began to tremble slightly. Her back pressed against the window, her hips thrusting forward slightly, pressing that sensitive area even more tightly against the fingers' pressure. The hem of her white dress was completely lifted, bunched at her waist, revealing her lower body encased in dark gray pantyhose. A small wet patch was visible in the crotch of the pantyhose, the dark water stain standing out starkly against the dark gray fabric.

“I will use the teacher’s body…” she gasped, her voice filled with lust, “to violate the teacher who has become Nagisa, using the teacher’s appearance. To let the teacher… feel the pleasure of being violated inside her own human skin.”

Her fingers moved faster and harder. The sound of fabric rubbing became clearer, mingling with her increasingly rapid breathing. Her legs parted slightly, her knees bent, further exposing that sensitive area.

“I will pin the teacher... against the table, against the bed, against the wall…” she said haltingly, her voice trembling with excitement, “and use the teacher’s penis… to penetrate the teacher’s body that has become Nagisa. To let the teacher… feel the feeling of being violated by himself.”

Her body was tense, her back arched, her head tilted back, and her long, light golden hair spread out, covering the window frame. Her fox ears twitched violently, and her tail lashed wildly behind her, the white ribbon at the tip whipping the air like a lash.

"Ah..." she let out a suppressed groan, her fingers reaching their peak, "Teacher... I will make you... feel... unprecedented... pleasure..."

The climax is here.

Her body trembled violently, her legs stiffened, and her toes curled inside her shoes. A large amount of liquid gushed from that wet area, soaking her underwear and pantyhose, forming a large, dark stain in her crotch. The liquid trickled down her inner thighs, soaking her pantyhose, and dripped onto the floor with a soft, rhythmic sound.

The climax lasted for about ten seconds, then slowly subsided.

She slumped against the window, gasping for breath, her body still trembling slightly. She removed her fingers from the damp area and held them up to her eyes. Her fingertips were covered in a clear liquid, glistening in the morning light.

She laughed, a laugh that was both beautiful and terrifying.

She stuck out her tongue and licked the liquid from her fingertip. It tasted salty and fishy, ​​but to her, it tasted like victory.

"Soon..." she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation, "Soon, the teacher will... belong entirely to me."

She straightened her skirt, smoothed out her pantyhose, then walked to the round table and sat down. Her fingers gently stroked the chair the teacher had just sat on, a movement as tender as caressing a lover's skin.

The morning light streamed through the window, illuminating her face.

That beautiful and holy face that belonged to Saintia was now beaming with a satisfied yet twisted smile.

Everything is going according to plan.

Just wait.

All you need to do is... have the teacher come back to find her.

Outside the window, the hourly chimes of the Holy Trinity Bell Tower echoed in the morning light before gradually fading away.

A new day has begun.

The final stage of the plan is about to begin.