The next morning, pale sunlight slipped through the curtains and spilled over the messy bed.
A thin strand of light landed perfectly across the girl's eyes.
Her lashes trembled. Slowly, she opened them.
Blue-violet pupils shimmered with a captivating gleam. Her beautiful golden hair spilled across the sheets like a waterfall, while the two silver streaks at her bangs clung damply to her forehead.
Breathing in the lingering scent in the room, Orfevre shifted slightly beneath the covers and let out a small yawn. She raised a hand to fix her bangs, only to notice a faint dampness still clinging to her fingers.
Little by little, her muddled brain began to work again.
Then she remembered last night.
Her face turned redder and redder, until finally she grabbed the blanket and buried her entire face in it.
People always said you lost your head when you got carried away.
Last night, Orfevre had been carried away the entire time.
At first, she had planned to toy with her trainer a little. Make him show some pathetic, embarrassing face for her amusement.
Who could have guessed she would lose control and end up crossing that line with him?
It had been the most unbearable thing Orfevre had ever experienced in her life.
But at the same time, it had also been the happiest moment she had ever known.
A moment that belonged only to her and her trainer.
Her body still held a faint ache, along with a soft, heavy warmth that had yet to fade.
Once, Orfevre had believed there was no trainer in the world worthy of her. After coming to Tracen, she had assumed her biggest problem would be finding someone qualified enough to sign with her.
Yet reality had gone far beyond anything she expected.
Not only had Orfevre found her trainer, she had found the one person she could entrust herself to for the rest of her life.
Turning gently, Orfevre looked at the man sleeping beside her.
His eyes were closed, his breathing calm and even.
At that sight, she couldn't help reaching out, brushing her fingers against his cheek.
From this moment on, he really was her man.
The corners of Orfevre's lips curved upward.
But soon, her brows pinched together.
Come to think of it, she was furious.
Last night, she had clearly held the absolute advantage, yet she had still made a complete fool of herself in front of him.
Originally, Orfevre had pictured herself seducing her trainer with effortless grace. She would watch him melt in front of her, make him serve her with proper devotion, then, once her interest was sufficiently piqued, magnanimously allow him to take things further.
But reality had not gone that way at all!
First of all, her trainer had far exceeded the training cup she used for practice, leaving Orfevre no room to display her so-called impressive technique.
Second, her own desire had been far more intense than his. Her trainer was still perfectly composed, while she was the one who gave out first.
Of course, if that had been all, it would not have been too humiliating. Orfevre could have endured that much.
What made her want to crawl under the bed was what came after.
She had already been at her limit, yet her mouth had still stubbornly insisted, "Is that all? This hardly satisfies me."
That part of her memory was blurry.
But Orfevre vaguely remembered her eyes nearly rolling back into her head.
Her expression at that moment must have been absolutely disastrous!
Every single time, Orfevre tried to show her trainer her composed, regal side.
And every single time, he crushed her until she looked like a total small fry.
Did heaven send you down specifically to counter me or what?
Orfevre stretched out her fingers, pinched Fujiwara Chiya's cheek, and tugged him awake from his dreams.
Forget becoming an uma musume. Ever since the day Orfevre was born, she had always maintained her majestic image. Not once had she lost her dignity.
Then she met her trainer.
And every towering image she had built up had been smashed to pieces by him.
What did she look like in his eyes now?
A loser who had been defeated by him?
A rookie who collapsed the moment he touched her?
A mouthy, honest-with-her-body small fry?
Orfevre had already thought up the nicknames for him.
She did not mind showing a weaker side in front of her own man. Her sister had said men had protective instincts. They wanted to protect the girl they liked, and even if that girl was an uma musume, they still wanted to show off their masculine charm.
But that was under normal circumstances.
Setting aside the fact that her trainer's strength was already greater than an uma musume's, wasn't the weak side she had been forced to show a little too frequent?
Ever since she started pursuing him, she had not displayed her grand image even once!
If she was not embarrassing herself, she was on the road to embarrassing herself!
Am I really that weak?
Orfevre refused to believe it.
How could she be so overwhelming in races, yet so hopeless in bed? Logically, her stamina and endurance should far surpass her trainer's.
And yet she had been the one who could barely straighten her back.
At two in the morning, one sentence from her trainer had completely ignited Orfevre's rage.
"Orfevre, you're tired. Let's sleep."
That single sentence made Orfevre drag her exhausted body back up and pin him down onto the bed.
She was the Tyrant of the Turf.
How could she possibly allow him to run wild in bed?
After that, Orfevre could not remember anything.
Her mind had completely blanked out. By the time she came to, it was already morning.
Looking at the blanket covering her body, Orfevre suspected she might have lost.
Of course, there was also the possibility that she had conquered her trainer, settled him properly in bed, and simply forgotten the details because she had been too excited.
Orfevre preferred the latter explanation.
Seeing the man open his eyes, Orfevre puffed out her cheeks and kept tugging at his face.
"G-Good morning, Orfevre…"
"Good morning, hmph…"
"Um… are you angry?"
"No."
After pinching his cheeks red, she finally let go.
"Is your body okay?"
"Hmph. How composed of you, Trainer. Who was the one whining like a little puppy last night, begging me to slow down?"
"…?"
"Wh-what? Wasn't it you, Trainer?"
"It was me."
…No.
It was me!
I was the one who begged Trainer to slow down!
Orfevre's brain finally caught up.
She had mixed up her fantasy with reality.
She was the useless one!
Slowly, Orfevre sank back under the blanket.
Watching her ears twitch rapidly, red all the way to the tips, Fujiwara Chiya reached out and gently patted Orfevre's head.
Last night, he had seen another side of Orfevre, one filled with an incredible gap between words and actions.
Her mouth was as stubborn as steel.
Her body was soft enough to melt.
He had not expected his place in Orfevre's heart to have already reached the level of a partner.
But now, what was he supposed to do?
How should he explain his situation to her later…?
Last night, swept up by the mood, Fujiwara Chiya had gone along with Orfevre.
Only afterward did he begin to reflect on what had happened.
"Trainer…"
With her ears still red, Orfevre cautiously poked her head out from beneath the blanket.
"You burned me out, so you had better take responsibility for me. Do you hear?"
As she spoke, she clenched her little fist and thumped Fujiwara Chiya on the chest.
Orfevre was still being stubborn.
But her movements had turned completely sweet.
"Orfevre, there's something I want to ask you."
"Mm?"
"What would you think if I were a girl?"
"Hah??"
Last night you were that intense, and now you're telling me you want to become a girl?
Are you joking with me, Trainer?
"I mean hypothetically."
"If Trainer were a girl, you would still be my possession."
Seeing the brief look of relief on his face, Orfevre gave a smug little snort.
So that was it.
Her dominance had made Trainer lose confidence in himself as a man.
Clearly, she had won during the second half of the night.
That was fine.
Orfevre could slowly nurture his confidence back.
She would help him regain his pride as a man.
In front of me, you are the small fry.
Orfevre stretched out both arms and hugged Fujiwara Chiya tightly against her chest.