"…Haa. I quit, I quit!"
As if fleeing, Rigel shouted.
"Eh? Quit what?"
Testarossa tilted her head.
Floating a color of simple question.
"I quit violating you! How am I supposed to rape in a state like this!"
"Why?"
"Because you… rape has a thing called 'mood,' right! I can't get excited like this!!"
"Mood."
Testarossa repeated that word quietly.
It had probably slipped out involuntarily.
Because that word did not suit him, Rigel, at all.
It was like someone else's words.
"But be prepared! Someday I will rape you! Wash your face and wait!"
"Yeah! I'll wash not only my face but my body properly and wait!"
"No, that's not what I mean…!"
Rigel raised his voice involuntarily.
His rhythm was completely thrown off.
He did not even know where he had gone wrong.
On a stage where he should have held the initiative, he felt as if he had been pushed into the audience seats before he knew it.
It was then.
