She thought it was Kirito who had taken her hand.
In the pitch-black haunted house, the familiar breath and whispers lowered her guard, letting “him” murmur by her ear: “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
Fear and heartbeat intertwined, lips meeting in that mistaken deep kiss—
When fingers slid into her damp warmth and whispers turned into ambiguous commands, she did not resist. Instead, she obeyed, kneeling down to offer herself.

“Today… you feel stronger than usual.”
She moaned in a climax from behind, never realizing it was not the Kirito she knew.

The real him came too late, only to be met with her damp, breathless complaint—
And all he could softly say was: “Next time, I’ll pay more attention.”

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