.jpg)
KAP 24
Kora’s brow furrowed at his nonchalant proposal.
‘What am I doing?’
She should push him away. She knew that, yet her body refused to listen.
As if sensing her hesitation, he began to move more boldly. His blunt glans slid down her spine, rubbing against the crease of her buttocks.
In that moment, Tristan let out a smirk and spoke.
“See. You want me too.”
“.......”
“You saw me masturbating, didn’t you? I know you were imagining me fucking you while you watched.”
“...What?”
“So, I’m telling you I’ll make those fantasies a reality.”
Buzz.
“......!”
Startled by the sudden vibration, Kora snapped her eyes open.
As the dormitory ceiling came into view, she realized she had been dreaming.
“Haa, thank god.”
Relieved, she wiped the sweat from her forehead and picked up the phone resting on the nightstand.
The moment she saw the message, she gasped in shock once more.
Hazard
「Don't you miss me?」
Coming back to her senses, Kora recoiled and threw the phone onto the bed.
She had tried everything to erase him from her mind.
The anxiety that she might end up craving him even more in the future made her want to cry.
Saturday afternoon. Tristan was spending time alone in his quarters.
Located near campus, the Hockey House was a residence for hockey players, featuring shared facilities including a gym.
Tristan lived alone in a loft that occupied the entire top floor of the building. With its grand ceiling height, the loft offered a clear view of the campus through the glass windows.
In truth, this building had been established by his father, Tristan Lockwood Jr., better known as ‘Stan.’
Stan was a successful businessman and the owner of the professional hockey team, the New York Sentinels. He was a man who considered it his life's mission to see his son lift the Stanley Cup.
To understand why he was so obsessed with the Stanley Cup, one had to understand the long history of the Lockwood family.
For the Lockwoods, hockey was not merely a sport, but a part of their identity. They took pride in being pioneers of American ice hockey.
In the late 19th century, when Malcolm Chase—a Yale graduate who played a pioneering role in spreading ice hockey in the U.S.—expeditioned to Canada, the man who accompanied him was Tristan’s great-great-grandfather, James George Lockwood.
James was convinced that hockey, a rugged sport, was the best way to reform the fragility of the American elite and awaken their primal instincts.
He invested in and constructed the first official regulation hockey rink in the U.S. at the university founded by his father, transforming it into a prestigious hockey powerhouse.
Because of this family tradition, while other old-money families might have a stuffed stag's head hanging on the walls of their drawing rooms, the Lockwood estate featured the hockey stick of James G. Lockwood.
Despite claiming to be pioneers of American hockey, the fact that they had failed to produce a single standout hockey star across generations was a long-standing complex for them.
Then, like a miracle, the genius talent of Tristan Lockwood III was born. It was obvious what the family's expectations would be.
His father and relatives were pressuring him, counting down the days until Tristan brought the glory of a Stanley Cup victory to the family.
‘As if they’ve already put it in my name.’
Shaking off the suffocating thoughts, Tristan picked up his phone. However, looking back at the text Kora had sent earlier only made him feel more stifled.
Her
「How about we just watch the movies individually and submit our organized opinions via email? You're busy anyway, so I'll take responsibility for writing the report.」
His eyes narrowed at the sight.
‘Is she kidding me?’
Feeling a sudden surge of thirst, he reached for an orange-flavored energy drink on the table.
Tshhh. He popped the can, downed the drink in one go, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘I went through all that shit just to create a point of contact. Looks like it's all about to go down the drain.’
In fact, the two of them becoming partners for the liberal arts class was no coincidence. It was all part of a blueprint Tristan had planned.
At the library, Tristan had happened to witness Kora borrowing the textbook for ‘Understanding Theatre and Film’ from the reserve desk.
The reserve desk was a system where textbooks or course materials could only be borrowed for use within the library; it was typically used by students who couldn't afford expensive textbooks.
He hadn't realized her financial situation was so dire that she had to save money on books.
Regardless, having acquired the information that she was taking ‘THEA 101: Understanding Theatre and Film,’ he did some digging. As a result, he discovered that the class was known among students as the ‘Wedding March’ course.
Apparently, it was a class where love easily blossomed because students from different departments worked in pairs for group projects. Thus, he decided to take the class to create a connection with Kora.
Although registration had already closed, it wasn't particularly difficult to arrange a spot for himself.
Tristan approached Professor Stevenson, the instructor of the course, wearing a polished smile and complimenting the tacky floral blouse she was wearing.
“I’ve wanted to take your wonderful class for a long time. It's a shame the capacity is full and I haven't had the chance.”
The professor likely knew well that the Lockwood family was the largest donor to the foundation that controlled the university. The son of the foundation's chairman wanted to take her class. Unless she wanted to see her research funding cut off next year, she couldn't coldly refuse.
Ultimately, Professor Stevenson gave Tristan special permission to enroll on the spot.
All that remained was to become Kora's partner for the group project.
To achieve this, Tristan recruited Professor Stevenson's teaching assistant, using VIP tickets for this season's hockey games as bait.
“It's not easy for me to find a partner because of the dense hockey team training schedule. I happen to have a friend I know, so I think it would be great if you could pair me with her. Her name is Kora Han.”
He had gone to such tedious lengths just to create a point of contact, and now he was back to square one. It was a truly annoying situation.
As he racked his brain for a way to break through, his cat, Biscuit, suddenly jumped onto his lap. The cat began to act cute, rubbing against him while its brilliant blue eyes sparkled.
Tristan sighed at the sight.
“You didn't even acknowledge me all morning. Now you're finally giving me attention?”
“Meow.”
Biscuit expressed its affection by bunting its head against Tristan. Then, as if asking to be petted, it rolled over and exposed its belly.
It was truly an unpredictable creature. Some days it would only give attention if ignored on purpose, and other days it would get cranky if it felt neglected.
Come to think of it, Kora Han reminded him exactly of a cat.
Her behavior, her large almond-shaped eyes, and her prim expression were just like a cat's. Could it be that she was actually a cat transformed into a human?
Tristan muttered while scratching Biscuit's belly.
“There's this girl who seems to be of the same species as you. How should I seduce her?”
“Myaaaa.”
“I can only understand you if you speak in human language.”
He brushed back his glossy hair in frustration. Usually, other women would take the bait with just a single glance from him.
‘But how much longer can you hold out?’
Eventually, Kora Han would fall into his grasp. For someone who had led hundreds of difficult hockey games, exercising this much patience was nothing.
It was just a bit tedious that he had to use his head again to create another point of contact.
Tristan readjusted his plan.
Chasing Kora in this situation would only have a counterproductive effect. Therefore, he needed a strategy similar to ‘gap control’ in hockey.
This was a defensive strategy of maintaining an appropriate distance to steal the puck from an attacker.
Not too close, not too far. Keeping a distance of exactly one step. Then, the cat-like Kora would show interest again and slowly hover around him.
Buzz.
Just then, his silent phone notified him, and he quickly checked the message. However, his excitement vanished the moment he saw the sender was Jenkins.
Jenkins
「I'm at the tailgate party with Kevin right now. Way more fun than I thought LMAO」
「Captain not coming?」
Ah, come to think of it, today was the day of the tailgate.
A tailgate referred to the parties held primarily before American football games. During a tailgate, spectators would open the trunks of their cars in the parking lot near the stadium and gather around to grill barbecue and drink beer.
Some considered this the romance of campus life, but Tristan had no particular interest in such things.
It was noisy due to the drunks, and women would cling to him and be annoying. There was absolutely no productivity in it. He sent a brief reply to Jenkins.
「Why would the hockey team go to a football tailgate party?」
「Aw come on. It's not like we're competing with the football team, so as long as it's fun, that's all that matters.」
「Go practice instead.」
「Captain, be honest. You're with a girl, aren't you?」
At Jenkins' question, Tristan's finger hesitated for a moment before he replied.
「Maybe.」
「Bro. I knew it!」
Tristan frowned at the peach and purple eggplant emojis Jenkins sent.
Meow. As he stroked Biscuit's head, which was protesting for his full attention, he muttered.
“You're a female too, so it's not exactly a lie. Right?”
.jpg)