Ch-30 These american chicks are too open.

Black. A Black lace thong.

Are students so daring these days?

Ryan's mouth twitched as his eyes fell on the pen he'd accidentally dropped, now conveniently rolled under the woman's seat.

Strange. How did his pen get there?

He glanced at the woman, whose face was slightly flushed. She avoided his gaze, fidgeting nervously.

Ryan understood immediately.

'What a scheming woman.' She must have kicked his pen under her seat on purpose, to show him something interesting.

But what a shame. Did she think it was a test of self-control?

As a man of principle, Ryan was unimpressed. What cadre would falter at such a trivial test?

He bent down and reached for the pen. Just as he was about to retrieve it, the woman suddenly closed her legs.

Her slender legs, smooth and firm, clamped tightly around his hand.

For a moment, Ryan felt the cold skin of her thighs against his palm.

Before he could fully register the sensation, she released him.

The woman, Vivian, turned back to the blackboard with an expression of feigned indifference. Only her slightly flushed cheeks and ears betrayed her emotions.

Toying with the pen in his hand, Ryan glanced at Vivian. Her face remained composed, but he could sense her frustration.

'She's disappointed.'

He sighed inwardly.

Vivian thought to herself, 'He didn't feel anything?'

This man was annoyingly difficult to deal with.

'Maybe it's because Emma dumped him,' she thought, remembering the gossip. 'He must have a shadow in his heart.'

Still, Vivian wasn't ready to give up. This was the first time she'd actively pursued someone, and she wasn't about to let him go.

With her looks and figure, she was confident. As long as she was patient, no man would be able to resist her charm-eventually.

Ryan, meanwhile, was relieved that Vivian didn't try anything more extreme.

These foreign girls were so bold, almost shameless. They didn't know how to hide their feelings, so they chose to act directly.

That earlier pinch had been intentional, anyone could see that.

Had they been in private, he might have taught this fiery woman a lesson she wouldn't forget. But in a classroom? Absolutely not.

He wasn't a pervert who enjoyed being watched.

If he couldn't have the main course, why bother with a meager appetizer?

When class ended, several girls approached him, eager to exchange contact information.

"My parents are traveling and I'm home alone," whispered a girl with an ordinary face but an exaggerated chest, leaning close to his ear.

As she spoke, she slipped a note into his hand and gave him a seductive smile before walking away.

Ryan watched her go, noting the sway of her hips in tight jeans.

'These american chicks are too open,' he thought.

Their so-called freedom often seemed more like indulgence.

Of course, not everyone was like that, but some took things to the extreme.

He unfolded the note to find an address scribbled on it.

If he wanted, he could spend the night in wild debauchery.

But Ryan wasn't interested. Aside from the girl's ordinary appearance, her reputation preceded her.

She was a well-known socialite on campus, notorious for having affairs with nearly a third of the male students.

Her fondness for the school's bullies was common knowledge, and their vulgar discussions about her assets and driving skills were impossible to ignore.

Though he wasn't a neat freak, Ryan had no interest in a bus that anyone could get on.

He crumpled up the note and threw it in the trash before leaving the classroom.

"Maybe I should get checked out at a hospital," he muttered to himself.

Lately, his inexplicable increase in charm had been unnerving.

As he left the classroom, a familiar figure appeared in front of him.

"Ryan?"

"Emma."

Their eyes met. Ryan looked at his ex-girlfriend, the woman who had left him just days before.

She was as beautiful and seductive as ever, but his life had changed dramatically since then.

Despite everything, Ryan harbored no ill will toward her.

'Good birds choose the best trees,' he thought. It was human nature to seek better opportunities, especially in a capitalistic country like this.

"You..."

Emma's voice trailed off as she stared at him, her expression akin to seeing a ghost.

This man standing before her was both familiar and unfamiliar.

The ex-boyfriend she had dumped now exuded an overwhelming charm.

He seemed taller, his physique more refined, and his presence magnetic - so much so that it could drive any woman crazy.

'What happened to him?' Emma thought, her head spinning. This wasn't the man she remembered.