A girlish boy sat down seductively, hooking one leg over the other with deliberate grace. He leaned back just slightly, revealing the pale pink-white of his skin and the subtle drip of sweat running down his collarbone beneath an open chest. His light blue eyes drifted toward the girls standing on the second-floor guardrail, and a gleam flashed in his pupils—showing his perverted admiration of their voluptuous figures.
Both hands were tucked into his coat pockets. Inside, a single finger pressed against the hard, rock-solid shaft hidden beneath his crotch, nudging the bulge to ease the tension.
"Sigh... Finally some comfort."
He let out a soft, relieved sigh and averted his gaze—but only in appearance. Through the clever use of peripheral vision, he observed everything with meticulous focus.
"It's about time..." he whispered to himself.
—Swoosh!
A breeze picked up, and his silky brown hair—shoulder-length and soft—fluttered in rhythm, like a swing being played by a mischievous child. He gauged the movement through the way it swayed, including the wind pressure, trajectory, and timing.
"This time, it should be enough for the wind to do the job," he muttered confidently. "How am I certain? After countless trials and errors, I can instinctively tell when it'll work."
The wind intensified at the same time; blood rushed in his veins as his heartbeat quickened, building anticipation for what's about to happen.
"No... This won't do. Calm down, boy," he scolded himself, letting out a deep breath, turning his emotions off like a machine mode: on.
The moment was nearing. He began the countdown.
"5…"
"4…"
"3…"
"2…"
"1…"
"Now's my chance… SHARINGAN!"
A powerful gust of wind erupted across the second-floor balcony.
His eyes snapped open—pupils shrinking with precision. It was as if his vision turned into a high-speed Ferris wheel, capturing frame after frame like an ultra-HD surveillance camera.
"Kyahhh!"
Screams rang out—but his brain filtered the noise. All of his energy was directed to the goal.
"Science says the human brain registers visual input in 0.013 seconds, and the body reacts in 0.25. Switching targets takes at least 0.45. At best, a normal person sees one thing. But I'm not normal."
A wicked smirk curled on his androgynous face.
"Endless practice, even self-inflicted pain. I honed my reflexes to perfection."
The wind calmed, but he didn't relax yet. He crossed his arms and reviewed the mental snapshots.
"Pink, black, blue, stripes, polka dots… fishnet—jackpot."
A satisfied grin formed on his lips.
This wasn't just underwear. These weren't just any girls. They were the elite F-6 of the school: the Ice Queen, cheerful twins, a sadistic blonde, the gyaru, and the aloof loli.
He mentally archived the images for later… therapeutic use. The plan was to savor the memory like an expensive dessert.
"Mission accomplished."
[NTR-System:]
Congratulations on completing the mission!
[Reward:]
+1 Intelligence!
He casually rose and tidied up the battlefield. Leaving no trace behind was crucial. If rumors of peeping spread, it would compromise all of his future missions.
"If I'm known as a pervert, I won't be able to peep. Girls avoid guys with faces similar to the person reading this."
So, self-control and discipline were vital—even in perversion.
"Are you the one they call the detective?"
He blinked due to the voice that came from behind. He turned around and found a person.
Standing there was a girl about his height, with long black hair, emerald eyes behind glasses, and something large slung over her back.
"I want to play around with that," he mused, inwardly licking his lips.
Despite the slight panic in her tone, she kept calm in his presence.
"Yes. I'm Shin 'Ecchi' Kudo, and you are?"
He observed her.
"For a student, she's decent. Aside from the big bazookas, nothing extraordinary. But those are definitely 'B.I.G.' for her age—enough for her to earn notoriety. I mean… who just walks around carrying bazookas?"
"Is it even licensed?"
"Well, she's from the drama club. Maybe she doesn't need one."
She watched him silently, evaluating. Then spoke in a calm voice.
"I heard you can solve any mystery. I'd like to hire you."
"Mystery, huh?" he frowned. "That's just gossip. I solve cases by sheer luck. I'm not Holmes."
"Regardless, I want to commission you."
He didn't dismiss it. Instead, he nodded. "Alright. Follow me."
He led her to an unused classroom at the back of the school. Perfect for private talks—or doing something inappropriate.
The door creaked open. A spider resting on the doorframe fell and, by fate, landed directly into her cleavage. He saw it crawl between the soft mounds.
"Lucky guy…" he muttered.
"Excuse me? Did you say something?"
"Nothing. Must've been the wind."
She gave him a skeptical look but said nothing more.
He glanced around the room. It was dusty, and spiderwebs were everywhere, but otherwise usable.
"I found this during one of my school explorations. I've been using it as a temporary office."
"Taking her to a hotel would be ideal, but I'm broke. And besides, I'm not the type to take a client to a hotel… not yet," he mused.
"Make yourself at home," he said, gesturing with a smooth wave of his hand. He acted like he owned the place.
She sat, her bazookas resting softly on the armrest.
"Soft props," he commented internally. Then he sat across from her, hands clasped at the podium.
He stared directly. "So, what's the issue?"
They locked eyes. The tension rose.
She took a breath. "It's my underwear. It went missing from my locker."
He remained composed. "Classic case. Technically a crime. You should've gone to a teacher or the police, but you came to me. Why?"
She tensed briefly—but suppressed it. He noticed.
"No," she said. "I can't trust them or anyone else. That's why I'm here. I want you to find it and catch the culprit."
"Doesn't trust anyone—but trusts me? Sigh… women," he thought.
He almost declined, but then—
Ding!
A translucent screen flickered before him.
[NTR System (Need To Respond)]
[Quest:]
Find the missing underwear!
[Description:]
A loner girl's underwear has vanished. She's distressed. Recover it and punish the thief.
[Hint:]
The location of her panty is under…
[Reward:]
+1 Intelligence!
"Under… where?" he muttered. "Tch. Lazy devs."
He stared at the screen—conveniently hovering over her chest.
"...!?" she noticed. Covered up. "What are you looking at?"
"Huh? Did you say something?"
Flustered, she turned away. "It's nothing..."
He ignored her and processed the case.
"She doesn't trust teachers… why? Is it because she's too prideful? Or is it something darker? Maybe she fears someone will dismiss her. Maybe it's the teacher themselves."
"Well, not my problem. Unless there's something in it for me, I'm staying neutral."
He leaned forward. "I understand. So, Miss—"
"Shiina. Shiina Iori."
"Right, Miss Shiina. When did the goods get stolen?"
"Goods...?" she frowned. Felt something was off, but said nothing.
"Yesterday, during P.E., my classmate spilled water on me, so I went to change. When I returned, my locker was open. Underwear gone."
"Anyone around while you changed?"
"No. I was alone."
"Hmm…" He rubbed his chin. "Classmate might be involved. Anyone suspicious? Confessions? People watching you?"
She thought. Shook her head.
"She's not lying—just oblivious," he noted.
"Alright, Miss Shiina. I accept your commission."
She looked relieved.
Then he continued.
"Miss Shiina, for the sake of accurate identification… show me your underwear first."