That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

The town of Horaud.

Two grueling weeks had passed since the violent summoning that dragged them into this world, and the deadline had finally arrived. Tomorrow, the class would descend into the gaping maw of the Great Orcus Labyrinth.

According to the dense, dusty tomes Suzuki had devoured in the royal library, there were exactly seven special dungeons scattered across the world of Tortus. The church claimed these terrifying labyrinths were created by ”Mavericks”—heretical rebels who had tried to bring about the end of the world before the god Ehit struck them down, forcing them into subterranean exile.

What a poorly constructed cover story, Suzuki had thought, rolling his eyes at the lore.

From a purely logical standpoint, the Mavericks likely couldn’t defeat the arrogant god, so they built impenetrable bunkers and left their magical inheritances hidden at the absolute bottom. It was a classic, deeply frustrating case of failed revolution: failing to solve a catastrophic problem and blindly passing the debt onto the next generation. It was the same trope found in the worlds of Naruto, Jujutsu Kaisen, and Solo Leveling.

But Suzuki didn’t care about ancient history. His focus was entirely on tomorrow.

The Great Orcus Labyrinth. This was the absolute turning point of the world’s narrative. This was the dark, crushing crucible where the kind, gentle, and utterly weak Hajime Nagumo was destined to be violently torn apart and betrayed. It was the abyss that would forge him into an overpowered, gun-toting edgelord who would eventually build a massive harem on his quest to return home.

Suzuki didn’t hate Nagumo. But as a man who knew exactly how the brutal plot was supposed to unfold, a cold, calculating question echoed in his mind: Should I let him fall?

It wasn’t a matter of kindness. It was a matter of control. Allowing the plot to proceed meant Suzuki could stay in the shadows, quietly investing in Nagumo’s inevitable rise. But a vastly more dominant, terrifying thought lingered in the back of his mind. Tomorrow was the perfect, chaotic environment to finally test his ultimate trump card.

”Hostile Takeover...” Suzuki whispered into the dark room.

”Hmm...? What’s wrong?”

A soft, breathy voice pulled him from his dark machinations. Shizuku shifted against him, her warm, heavy body pressing flush against his side as she looked up with half-lidded, exhausted eyes.

”It’s nothing,” Suzuki murmured, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her bare spine. ”Just go back to sleep. Actually... don’t you think you should sneak back to your own room soon?”

The air in the bedroom was incredibly thick and intoxicating, entirely saturated with the heavy, sweet scent of their tangled bodies. Tonight, they hadn’t retreated into the pristine, climate-controlled luxury of his [Subspace Penthouse]. For the sheer novelty of it, Suzuki had decided to use his assigned, drafty medieval inn room—though he had heavily modified the bed with imported, ultra-soft Earth memory foam and silk sheets.

With the terrifying reality of the dungeon looming over them tomorrow, the entire class was a nervous, panicked wreck. Some hid under their blankets, crying themselves to sleep. Others huddled together in the dark, desperately trying to convince themselves this was just a game where they would level up and go home safely.

Shizuku had sought a vastly different, much more physical kind of comfort to chase away the dread.

”...Are you trying to send me away?” Shizuku pouted, her voice trembling with an incredibly needy, vulnerable edge.

She looked absolutely breathtaking. Stripped entirely of her fierce, untouchable ”Iron Lady” persona, she was undeniably, overwhelmingly feminine. Her long, jet-black hair, usually bound in a strict, practical ponytail, was completely undone, cascading in a messy, silken waterfall over his bare chest. Her athletic, perfectly toned body was slick with a thin, glistening layer of sweat—the heavy aftermath of being thoroughly and repeatedly loved into a state of total, melting submission.

”Of course not,” Suzuki replied, his voice a low, soothing rumble as he pulled her closer, feeling the soft crush of her chest against his ribs. ”But what if Kaori checks your room tonight? She’s terrified of tomorrow. She probably needs someone to talk to.”

Ever since they had crossed the final line, Shizuku practically lived in his bed. Despite possessing the superhuman stamina of a Swordmaster, she was shockingly, delightfully defenseless against him in the dark. Every single night, he effortlessly broke down her guard, drawing out sweet, desperate, lewd whimpers that completely shattered her stoic facade.

It was an addiction for both of them. In the eyes of the class—and the kingdom—Shizuku was a flawless pillar of strength. Everyone relied on her, entirely ignoring her own fragile needs. But in Suzuki’s arms, she was allowed to be weak. She was allowed to be spoiled, dominated, and treated like a desperate, lovesick girl.

But as the thought of her best friend entered her mind, Shizuku bit her swollen lower lip. Suzuki was right. Kaori projected a fragile smile, but underneath, she was paralyzed with fear. And while Shizuku knew Kaori had a soft spot for Nagumo’s quiet kindness, there was absolutely no way the weak Synergist could provide the overwhelming, suffocating sense of absolute security that Kaori desperately craved right now.

Only one man could provide that.

”By the way, Dear...” Shizuku murmured, her fingers lightly tracing circles over his collarbone.

”Hmm?”

”What do you honestly think of Kaori?”

”Kaori?” Suzuki looked down at her, slightly confused by the sudden question. ”She’s your best friend. She’s a good girl.”

”That’s it?” Shizuku’s dark eyes stared up at him, intensely searching his face.

”What else do you want me to think of her?” Suzuki chuckled, shifting his weight so he hovered over her, pinning her softly to the mattress.

He already had Shizuku, and their physical chemistry was absolutely mind-melting. Her combat-enhanced body was incredibly strong, yet so deeply pliable and submissive under his touch. With the limitless, highly creative ”toys” and enhancements he acquired through [Online Shopping], their nights were a blur of absolute ecstasy. Why would he need to look anywhere else?

Yet, Suzuki was entirely aware of his own terrifying allure.

He didn’t just possess a handsome face and a sculpted body. Thanks to the [Manager] actively optimizing his heavily acquired Jobs—including the stolen [Assassin] class and a vast fortune of embezzled royal gold—Suzuki exuded an aura of absolute, unshakable dominance. He possessed wealth, lethal power, and undeniable authority.

Unlike Kouki, whose blindingly naive ”Hero” aura constantly put the class in danger, Suzuki offered the ultimate, most seductive aphrodisiac a woman could experience in a brutal death-game world: Total Peace of Mind.

He wasn’t just a high schooler anymore; he was a predator actively orchestrating the hostile takeover of a continent. His methods were impeccably clean, deeply clinical, and flawlessly reliable.

Shizuku understood this better than anyone. She knew exactly how intoxicating his protection was, and she knew exactly how desperately Kaori was staring at him when she thought no one was looking.

Shizuku reached up, her soft hands cupping his face. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, alluring red, and her eyes shimmered with a dark, deeply conflicted, yet heavily tempting emotion.

”Well...” Shizuku whispered, her breath hot against his lips. ”What if... what if you comfort Kaori, too, Dear?”

”.....”

Suzuki froze, staring down at his beautiful, panting girlfriend in absolute silence.