#13 Collapse (2)
By the time Yuchan checked on Nayae and confirmed she was asleep, morning had arrived. She wouldn't wake up for a while, so he boiled some porridge for her to eat comfortably when she did and headed to work. He was certain she wouldn't run away anymore, so he hadn't tied her up. Besides, he figured she'd only stir long after he got home from work. With the brainwashing complete, unnecessary stimuli were pointless now. It was crucial to preserve the facts she'd believed in before falling asleep intact, rewarding her obedience rather than brute force.
Now, with the March mock exam approaching, something annoying cropped up for Yuchan: mandatory counseling for every student anxious before and after the test. It was inevitable in his line of work, but annoying was still annoying. Yuchan meticulously organized the files on today's counselees, then stretched with a yawn and sipped his coffee from the mug. He hadn't slept properly while conditioning Nayae. He was a natural short sleeper, managing on about five hours a day, but her waking him every hour had ruined any deep rest. Thanks to that, though, he'd enjoyed quite the delightful show this morning.
Fully enslaved to Yuchan, Nayae had unleashed a nonstop barrage of coquettish affection right up until she drifted off. She'd gripped his cock and sucked eagerly, so he'd rewarded her with a thick load straight down her throat. His steps to work felt a bit heavier as a result. To think she could cling like that to the man who'd humiliated and tormented her body and mind. Human hearts were truly complex and mysterious, he mused—though he couldn't relate in the slightest.
Just a couple more hurdles for her to clear. Brainwashing wasn't permanent; like the body striving for homeostasis, the mind always tried to revert. He'd need to counter any creeping doubts she harbored at the perfect moments. Yuchan packed his things and stepped out of the academy. It was time to savor Nayae's body, marinated so meticulously for over ten days.
Before heading home, he stopped by Nayae's place first and gathered her things—mostly clothes. He kept her naked during conditioning, of course, but a woman's body looked most appetizing unwrapped from its packaging. He grabbed her glasses and hair tie too. With Nayae mentally shattered and utterly dependent on him now, recreating her fresh, innocent look from just days ago promised some fine entertainment. Bag in hand, Yuchan arrived at the officetel. The CCTV showed no lights on still. When did he plan to fix that damn thing? he grumbled inwardly.
He rode the elevator up and unlocked the door. He'd reset the booby traps, so he yanked the handle upward first to disarm the trigger. In hindsight, maybe it was overkill. But after that intruder left no trace and never returned, Yuchan stayed cautious. He'd pegged the guy for someone itching to play a game. Apparently, he was more of a coward than expected. Still, the past few days without interference were a relief. Conditioning the unplanned Nayae had thrown off his schedule; if the creep had broken in here alone, she'd have suffered.
He wasn't scared. But he preferred avoiding disruptions to his slothful, pleasure-chasing routine.
"I'm home."
The faint tobacco stench from the wallpaper and the sensor lights blinking greeted him. The room was still dark. Nayae hadn't woken yet, it seemed. Yuchan tossed his bag on the sofa and headed to the master bedroom. He'd checked the kitchen off the entryway—empty. Living room too. The bed was vacant. He touched the sheets first. If she'd been lying there recently, they'd be warm from body heat. But they were ice-cold. She'd been up for a while.
"Nayae?"
At first, he suspected the intruder from before. But he dismissed it quickly. No signs of forced abduction. Even if Nayae was no athlete, being dragged off would leave traces. No crossbow trap had triggered either, so a third party was unlikely. Had she fled on her own? No—her shoes were still in the entryway closet. In a panic, she might bolt barefoot, but he'd been gone hours. She'd have grabbed shoes at least. What game was she playing?
A flicker of irritation rose as he searched the bedroom. It didn't take long to find her: huddled in the bathroom, trembling as she aimed a long cleaver at him with a quavering voice.
"Please... change me back."
The days were growing longer now. Crimson sunset poured through the massive balcony window adorning one wall, staining the pale room without mercy. The ominous twilight swallowed the house, glinting even off the blade in Nayae's hand. A single-edged cleaver—used for fine kitchen work, but capable of silently gutting tough meat.
"Teacher's acting strange... I'm so messed up, I feel like I'm going insane... Let me go. I don't want to stay here anymore."
Something was wrong. Her mind exploded with uncontrolled thoughts: beloved teacher, terrifying teacher, hated teacher. He'd scrambled her brain. The cacophony screamed in her ears like agony. She had to go back. The blade shook five centimeters from her solar plexus. Her grip on the handle trembled as if she were the fearful one. Like a damaged semicircular canal, the tip wobbled wildly.
Yuchan pressed her instead. He had to remain the iron-fisted conqueror in her head. No weakness allowed.
"You sure you can just go back? I've got tons of your shameful videos."
"Delete them right now... or I'll really stab you."
A cute girl in cow pajamas spouting such terror? He nearly laughed at the absurdity. But Nayae was deadly serious. The new identity force-fed into her head clashed violently with the one she'd built over years. It was expected—the peak she had to surmount.
"Why delete them? You're mine, aren't you, Nayae?"
His devilish whisper made her hand shake violently. Nayae was Teacher's. Teacher was her savior, accepting her flawed self. She had to deny it.
"No!"
Her stiffening faith roared out. Her face twisted in agony at even pointing the knife. Stammering, she forced words free, her brain whipped into chaos by a massive flogger.
"I'm... not yours..."
"No, Nayae. You're mine alone. Every inch of your beautiful body, down to a single hair."
"Shut up!"
She clamped her free hand over her ears. At this rate, he'd devour her whole. She'd mistake his humiliations for sweet nectar, becoming a blissful doll. Her crisis barely propped up her crumbling mind and body.
"I figured you'd be confused. No clue what's right or wrong."
"You are wrong, Teacher. I'm not useless... I..."
Yuchan edged closer cautiously. Nayae rolled her eyes white and thrust the knife out hysterically—more scream than shout.
"Don't come closer!"
She looked ready to lunge. But Yuchan didn't flinch. He could subdue her easily now. Not that it made him fearless; he'd never feared anything.
"You made me weird, Teacher."
Nayae looked utterly tormented. The brainwashing had driven its wedge deep, yet she sensed the wrongness—and agonized at threatening the teacher she loved and revered.
"I didn't make you weird. I just found your place."
"I know! But... this isn't it. Change me... back."
"No intention of that."
For the first time, a sharp glint pierced the eyes of ever-meek Nayae. A lethal weapon in her grasp. Even a monster like Yuchan would falter if stabbed...
"I'll really do it."
Her hesitation sharpened into a savage gleam. Yuchan seized the blade flat with his hand.
"Ah!"
His palm split, cold steel biting deep. Startled, Nayae yanked back, but it held fast like vise-gripped. Hot blood raced along the edge, soaking the floor. The metallic reek stabbed her nose; her shoulders quaked. A sheltered girl like her had never seen such bleeding.
"Stabbing the chest with a crude knife like this risks the blade snapping on ribs—or failing to kill cleanly."
"Let... let... let go..."
Frozen solid, she heaved ragged breaths, strength drained. No resistance left—except her death grip on the handle. Yuchan shifted the blade from her solar plexus to her soft throat, ripe for ripping.
"Aim here."
With gentle tones, he positioned it just below her larynx and locked eyes.
"Drive it deep into the trachea first. The blade shatters the cervical vertebrae—no force needed for such a sensitive spot. Blood floods the windpipe, blocking breath, filling the lungs till you drown in your own."
A thin cut wept beads of blood at the tip.
"You know? In Christianity, blood symbolizes sacred resurrection and death. Dying with lungs steeped in it? Grandiose, in a way."
Dazed by the blood trickling down his wrist, Nayae reeled. Nothing like movies—this tactile revulsion invaded her skull. Sticky crimson crept along the blade, staining her hand. No mere liquid. This was the weight of sin if she thrust forward. Terrifying. Frightening.
"Just a bit more effort, and you're free of this misery. If you think you're truly brave and clever, step forward those few centimeters."
"I'll... really do it."
Yuchan released the blade. No resistance remained.
"Yes, if you're the 'Nayae' you've always imagined, you can. If it's just a false delusion you crafted, you can't."
"I'm... not trash... not your toy...!"
Head bowed, she muttered obsessively. If not now... Biting her lip, Nayae glared with blazing eyes. She was this far gone—surely he'd be affected. His terrified face would summon her missing courage. Killing him ended this hell. Nothing else registered. One thought poured relentlessly. Then she saw his expression.
Despair crashed in. She'd hoped for rigid fear, at least—praying her scraped-together resolve threatened him.
"After stabbing, take the knife and toss it far away."
But his crystal-clear eyes bared one emotion only. Not fear. Not dread. Curiosity. Contrary to her wish for basic humanity. Nothing but bizarre fervor gleamed there. Empty void.
Ah, right. Nothing could beat him. Teacher was correct. Nayae was powerless. Half-true, though—not powerless, just futile against him. This morning's dream flickered: the shadow-human devouring the hunter. It overlaid Yuchan perfectly. In the sunset-melted, reconstructed kitchen, his shadow swelled demonically.
"Haha..."
Ridiculous laughter escaped. Amplified, it boomed like collapsing buildings back into her ears.