Chapter 13

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 13

Chapter Title: Meeting the Master is So Much Fun! (Part 1)

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A clear mechanical voice greets my return.

My consciousness, submerged deep underwater, begins to slowly surface.

"Ugh... my head... it hurts so much...! What the hell happened?"

Like waking from a brutal hangover, my head throbs as if it's about to split open.

Like fumbling for objects in a pitch-black room.

"Right... I definitely entered that man's world."

Like tugging a thread, related memories come flooding back with every word I murmur.

I tracked him down.

Tried to blackmail the man I'd found, but he turned the tables on me.

Caught in a desperate spot, I tried to escape but...

"Aaah...! My head hurts too much...!" Forcing those hazy memories to the surface felt like a spike drilling into my skull.

"Water... I need some water at least...."

I had to open the connection capsule and get out to clear my head.

"Computer? I need to get out, so hurry up and open the capsule!"

"Computer?" Personality restoration sequence? My head was killing me already—how much longer did I have to wait?

It pissed me off, but I got it.

Sudden memory loss like this was never natural. The scan and restoration might pinpoint the problem.

...This was my defeat, no question. I'd charged in cocky at some mystery opponent and slunk away like a disgrace with my memories wiped.

"...If I hadn't set up precautions, it could've been way worse..!"

If I hadn't programmed that thirty-minute auto-exit, I might be locked into some bullshit contract right now.

"Next time we meet, I won't lose...!"

In the real world, I had connections galore, bottomless wealth, and god-tier power from my status. With backup from my people and full prep, I'd go back to negotiate.

No more pathetic losses like this.

"...But seriously, why's it taking forever?"

"What...?"

The flat mechanical voice spat out something insane.

Personality match rate of 67%? Restoration attempt?

Even someone who'd mistaken VR for reality and lived there five months straight clocked 80% on recovery.

67%? Nothing short of a total rewrite of who you are could tank it that low.

"Open the damn door...! I'm fine...!"

The snug capsule interior started feeling like a cramped cell.

Like some medieval torture rack—the Iron Maiden—with razor spikes closing in from all sides.

"Right now...! Open it....!"

I pounded the capsule door with my fists, kicked it wildly, thrashed like a madwoman.

A sharp hiss, and something pricked my neck.

My limbs went slack at once, my whole body turning heavy and languid.

"Urghk...! What the... hell did you do to meee..."

The drowsiness spread like sinking into a thick, fluffy blanket—peace and total relaxation washing over every inch of me.

Emotions totally at odds with the nightmare unfolding.

"Let... me... go...!"

Metal fans whir to life, the computation rigs linked to the access device kicking into overdrive, belching heat.

Like a warning that the work ahead would be grueling.

"Huaaaaaaaaagh!"

A flood of unfamiliar memories surges into my head.

"What... is this...?"

Childhood recollections—all of them—get overwritten.

Memories of being fawned over for my stunning looks, of bullying kids I didn't like, warp and twist.

I have to remember.

Can't forget.

I was the one who made others cry. The pathetic one sobbing—that was them, not me.

I was the ruler towering over everyone...

But this one—the one that floated up unbidden, forced into view—denied it all.

Shunned by everyone, crying alone... Master took me in his arms.

As I writhed in torment, whipping myself to prove my worth, he gave my life new meaning.

No need to force proof. I just had to obey whatever Master commanded.

Life got so much easier from then on...

...No! I'd always been the master of my fate. Never leaned on anyone.

Never wanted a Master. I wasn't the type to depend on others.

I lorded over people. Dominated them. Savored the view from on high.

Master? Nothing like that in my life! Every last memory—fake!

No, Master proved I wasn't that person.

Tried to beat him over and over, but he always saw through my schemes.

After defeat after humiliating counter-defeat, I finally got it: I could never win against this man.

Once I admitted defeat, my mind cleared. Losing to Master... maybe it was inevitable?

All my striving for the top? It was to find a superior Master to claim me.

Master forgave my insolent challenges, time after time.

How endlessly merciful...

In his forgiveness, I felt a stability like nothing before.

That must've been when it shifted—my drive to challenge him twisting into love.

...No way. All fabricated memories. Sure, I challenged superiors, but not him... not him, right?

Maybe someone kinda like Master. But most of it was lies.

Doubts crept in about my own memories, but no way I'd climbed this high living a school life like that.

This spot? Takes ironclad fighting spirit and bulletproof self-belief.

Not for some moron submitting to others, chasing cheap thrills of safety and bliss.

...Moron? Forgotten how elated Master was when I begged him to make me his slave?

Still crystal clear: graduation looming, terrified our bond might snap, so I confessed recklessly.

Didn't dare dream of lover status—just stay with me, any way possible.

Master ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠showed me my true place: bitch slave, offering everything to him...

Cast aside that pointless lofty pride. Acted the slut, kissed his toes. My whole world shattered.

Pretending to be above it all? Just a performance.

Being pinned under a Master superior to me... felt this good.

Before break, Master left saying he'd return once I looked the perfect bitch slave.

After graduation, days lost in studies to become a refined slave, nights stacking filthy knowledge...

Practiced vulgar, obscene words till they rolled off my tongue naturally.

Pondered endlessly: how best to please his cock?

Never slacked on sculpting the body I'd offer Master.

Figure, skin—obsessed to keep my natural beauty pristine.

Honed sensitivity around my tits so nipples and clit twitch at the slightest touch.

Worked to craft a pathetic bitch body that cums easy at Master's whims.

...No! I studied for my future. Future...? Oh, right. To become a lewd, clever bitch...

Point is, about half the Master memories are bullshit.

That sweet story of kind Master always guiding my life,

versus no Master ever, just me as a fierce, independent woman—one's gotta be lies.

I sifted through my thoughts, chasing which felt true.

"Master...♥"

Just uttering it made my heart flutter and thump wildly.

Memories of time with Master still burned bright.

...Another one surfaced. Memories with Master warming my heart anew.

Offering my virginity—the chill of his ID card's plastic pressing my navel.

The camera lens capturing every bit of my maidenhead's end.

After the freshman orientation afterparty, Master appearing out of nowhere, pounding me raw in the bar bathroom—I bit back those ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stifled moans.

The uniform scraps I'd cut up to his taste, straddling him as my womb got pierced—that sensation.

Dark predawn in a deserted park by the bustling streets, legs splayed I-shape, his sideways thrusts amid the cold morning air.

Daily masturbation reports—photos snapped careful to mute the shutter.

Proof of Master's deep love sloshing full in my belly, that thrill delivering the graduation rep speech with a flushed face.

Every sense remembers Master.

Every memory testifies to Master.

This... couldn't be a lie, right?

"It's all... all coming back...♥"

Psssh... The capsule hisses open with a rush of air.

"My head... feels so refreshed."

The headache was gone. Best I'd ever felt.

"Like being reborn...♥" I tied my hair back, getting ready to see Master.

"Can't wait to lay eyes on him... but I wanna look my absolute prettiest."

Quick makeup touch-up, then I drove to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠meet Master. First time handling the wheel myself in years.

Couldn't call the chauffeur. I wasn't heading out as a GK Group exec—this was bitch onahole Chae Yu-na, off to fulfill her duties.

The sleek supercar worth tens of billions screamed through central Seoul.

Ferrying one slut brimming with filthy anticipation...