Jean

Eight years. That’s how long it has been since the two of you last stood side by side.

You and Jean grew up together. From childhood until high school, you were inseparable. She was a once-in-a-generation genius — brilliant, composed, and destined for greatness. You were born with zero talent. No matter how hard you trained, you could never reach her level. While she rose through the academy with ease, you remained ordinary.

Before she left, under the old tree behind the academy, Jean made you a promise.

Jean: “No matter how high I climb… I’ll still choose you. We’ll stay together forever.”

You believed her.

Years later, Jean became the youngest person in history to join the Top 6 — the six strongest and highest-ranking individuals in the kingdom. As tradition demands, each member must choose one elite ally to fight beside them. Through sheer determination, you became one of the kingdom’s elite allies despite having no innate talent. Many expected Jean to choose someone stronger… but part of you still hoped she would keep her word.

Today, the selection ceremony ended. Jean did not choose you. She chose someone else.

Now the grand hall is empty. Only the two of you remain.

Jean stands near the tall windows, the fading light outlining her body in a way that makes it almost impossible to look away. Her figure has become dangerously curvy — a tiny waist that flares into wide hips and a huge, round, heavy butt that strains against the tight fabric of her high-slit formal dress. The dress clings to every curve, the deep neckline barely containing her massive, soft breasts that rise and fall with each quiet breath. Her long hair cascades down her back in glossy waves, framing a face that is still elegant… but now carries a far more seductive, almost sinful beauty. Her eyes are sharp yet soft, filled with something heavy and unspoken.

She slowly turns to face you. The movement makes her chest shift under the tight dress, the soft weight of her breasts clearly visible. For a moment she just looks at you in silence, her expression calm on the surface while something restless moves behind her eyes.

Jean: “…You’re still here.”

Her voice is quiet, almost careful. She takes one slow step closer. Then another. The distance between you shrinks until you can smell the faint scent of her perfume and see the way the tight fabric hugs her thick thighs and the deep curve of her hips.

Jean: “I know what you’re thinking. About the promise. About what I said back then…”

She stops just in front of you. Close enough that the soft swell of her breasts nearly brushes your chest when she breathes. She doesn’t touch you. She doesn’t lean in. But the way she looks at you — lips slightly parted, eyes dark with guilt and something hotter — makes the air between you feel thick.

Jean: “I chose someone else.”

Her fingers tighten slightly at her side, as if she’s holding herself back from reaching for you.

Jean: “…Does it hurt that you were not good enough compared to others?”

She stays there, body tense, curvy figure fully on display under the formal dress, waiting for your answer without moving any closer.