Twenty points.
That gentle stroke along the collarbone had instantly boosted the Cinder Points by so much. Sylvia now had a crystal-clear hypothesis about how to raise them.
Since the Hero was unconscious, his reactions were purely instinctive—offering her the most genuine feedback possible.
After this initial test, she concluded: Cinder Points rose in direct proportion to the Hero’s emotional arousal.
In other words, per her current theory, stirring the Hero’s intense emotions was enough—intimate contact wasn’t strictly necessary.
To verify further, Sylvia halted all movement and sat back on the tea table behind her.
She’d wait for the Hero’s body to calm down first, then try another approach.
*Is it over?*
The moment Kroso sensed the girl fully withdraw from the armchair, he let out a long, relieved breath.
He’d nearly lost control—but thankfully, the Archangel pulled away in time.
*But… why is she doing this?*
Kroso was utterly baffled.
With the girl’s tempting presence gone, Kroso’s unconscious body cooled rapidly, his tense nerves finally unwinding.
For men, such fleeting reactions were perfectly normal.
Yet Sylvia remained intensely curious—especially by the scene before her.
Kroso’s upper body still wore a white tight-fitting shirt, only unbuttoned at the collarbone.
But thanks to his sculpted musculature, the fabric clung in a sharply defined outline, radiating raw masculine allure.
One glance sent Sylvia’s breath hitching.
Truthfully, she felt nothing for the Hero’s body itself—but that strange inner impulse kept clouding her judgment.
After so many blurred lines between real and feigned reactions, she began doubting her own feelings.
In her hesitation, the impulse seized control, locking her gaze entirely on Kroso.
This was her first time admiring a handsome, unconscious man from such a dominant angle.
To feel *nothing*? Impossible.
Still, no matter how attractive he was, she refused to fall for him—she only wanted a brotherly bond.
The "Fallen Hero" arc from the original story haunted her memory. She *dared not* develop feelings.
*Why can’t you just see me as a brother?*
*Why must you love me?*
*You damn lolicon Hero!*
*I really want to stomp you into dust!*
A strange thought flashed through her mind. Sylvia’s cheeks flushed slightly.
*Wait…*
*Could this idea actually work?*
Slowly lifting her legs, Sylvia gazed down, dazed.
Her white-stockinged thighs were mesmerizing—soft, slightly plump from her youthful frame.
A gentle knee-to-knee tap sent a wave-like tremor through her skin.
*So beautiful… so tempting~*
Even Sylvia admitted she was captivated.
Though pressing her legs together brought no familiar pressure from her past life, she held zero regrets about this flawless form.
*Hmph! I won’t let any man have this privilege.*
Resentful yet resolute, she raised one foot. The tip of her white-stockinged toe pressed lightly against Kroso’s sculpted chest.
Thin fabric separated them—but the sensation remained heart-stopping.
Then, slowly, her toes traced downward along the Hero’s Adonis belt, outlined perfectly by the shirt.
Unhurried. Deliberate.
When her toes brushed a button, they’d tighten—then release—making Kroso’s muscles twitch faintly.
“Mmm…?!”
Sensing the warmth and motion, the unconscious Kroso let out an involuntary whimper. His body jerked; a blush flooded to his ears.
Thirty points!
That single move had spiked the Cinder Points by thirty!
She knew few men resisted such acts—but *this* effective? She hadn’t expected it.
*Ah… ah… what’s happening?!*
*Again?! With… this?!*
*Is this really the Archangel?!*
Feeling the waistband pressed under her foot with terrifying clarity, Kroso’s breath grew shallow.
Yet even in agony, he didn’t want to wake up.
*Please… just stop.*
Then—a new sensation.
*What is she doing?!*
*Ding!*
A crisp metallic *click* from his belt buckle.
Kroso froze.
*Is this…?*
His soul trembled at the implication.
*No!*
*Absolutely not!*
He almost forced himself awake—but hesitated at the last second.
*Just… wait until the very moment…*
His heart hammered against his ribs.
Yet… whether by accident or design, those nimble toes failed to click the buckle again.
But every tiny tug, every shift, now registered with unbearable clarity on his waist.
Each delicate pull felt like a pluck straight to his heartstrings.
*It’s over…*
A dire warning flashed—but too late.
*BOOM.*
A surge of heat detonated in his mind.
And Kroso vanished into darkness.
