True Without Hypnosis (1)
"......"
Ha Ohu stared silently at the screen. He knew full well that with the app's power, he could remake Na Miyang in an instant—turning her into a vengeful family ghost who adored Shooting Star like her own mother, seething with righteous fury.
But.
His thumbs rested on the keyboard, unmoving. He refused to type in the third command she'd begged for. At least when it came to his mom, he didn't want to hijack something as sacred as love with cold, mechanical code. It was his final line as a son—a personal tribute to Miyang's genuine heart.
"There. Done."
He grumbled curtly, skipping her extra request and hitting enter on just the first two commands.
Fwaaash!
A flash erupted, and the second layer of hypnotic chains—absolute betrayal prohibition and truth compulsion—locked back into Miyang's mind.
"Nngh......"
Miyang blinked away the flash's afterglow, scratching her head as she checked if that third command about loving his mom had really gone in.
"Huh? Master, I don't think the 'love mom's like family' command stuck in my head just now?"
"Really? I swear I put it in."
Ohu smirked, pocketing his phone. Miyang puffed out her cheeks, lips jutting in a pout.
"Tch...... Something feels off.... Fine, whatever, nyang."
She clenched her fists, bouncing on the bed like she was declaring war on the air itself.
"Just you wait, nyang! I'll track down every bastard circulating copies of Master's mom's video, every piece-of-shit downloader who jerked off to it—IPs and all—and rip their fucking mouths apart! Don't underestimate Miyangi's intel skills, nyang!"
No mechanical command needed.
Before he knew it, there on the bed was his sturdy, adorable she-cat, genuinely caring for his mother like family and raging on her behalf.
Ohu stroked his scarred gut, gazing at Miyang's fist-pumping, bed-trampolining back with a gaze endlessly warm and tender. The truest warmth blooming from a false collar felt especially hot.
In the heart of Seoul, inside a towering skyscraper housing the Korean Hero Committee's headquarters, the Planning and Coordination Office buzzed like a warzone from dawn—phones ringing nonstop, papers shuffling endlessly.
In the innermost room, with its floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, Park Ayoung sat at her desk, handling her duties with even more fervor and precision than usual.
"Director, the Shooting Star incident from yesterday is spreading uncontrollably through media and underground communities like Pellagram. The insults targeting the sole survivor—her son Ha Ohu—are beyond the pale, and the fabricated rumors about the deceased's private life are reaching critical levels."
Ayoung's brows furrowed coldly as she stared at her monitor, listening to her deputy report.
"Mobilize the legal team and cyber response unit immediately."
Her order was ironclad.
"Capture every malicious post and comment insulting Sara unnie—no, the deceased—and her family. Trace IPs without exception and file maximum lawsuits. No settlements. I'll handle the media desks personally to control article directions—pull those sensational headlines from portal mains first."
"Understood. But we need a narrative to flip public opinion......"
"I've already coordinated with Detective Park Jinwoo from Police Agency Violent Crimes Unit 3."
Ayoung handed over a neatly drafted press release draft.
"Ha Deok-gu's constant gaslighting, threats over gambling debts, and the mother's desperate sacrifice—sealing her hero powers for 20 years to protect her child. This tragedy is a star extinguished by domestic violence. Frame the media play around restoring Sara unnie's noble sacrifice and honor."
"Got it, Director!"
The deputy scurried out. Ayoung leaned back with a deep sigh.
Her father, Rapid Star, had despised her forever for her half-assed combat skills. But in this office, she commanded absolute respect from juniors and solved thorny issues for seniors using her dad's connections—a flawless fixer.
And now, her core was hardcoded with unshakeable conviction: the Han Sara she'd loathed treated like a beloved sister, her grotesque son Ha Ohu the world's cutest nephew.
Poor Ohu...... He hasn't even rested properly with the funeral.
She picked up her smartphone, her nephew's face tugging at her heart. Smiling warmly, she opened the messenger and tapped out a caring auntie text.
She added a warm emoticon, hit send with a satisfied smile.
In that instant.
"......Huh?"
Her thumb froze stiff over the screen.
Beeeeep!
A piercing tinnitus shredded her eardrums from the center of her brain. Her vision warped like a busted old CRT TV, static crackling.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Her heart hammered like it would burst her ribs.
What...... what the hell is this?
A black, sticky alien mass stabbed through the warm, loving nephew curtain straight into her frontal lobe.
Hallucination?
But her vocal cords twitched. It was unmistakably her voice, from her mouth.
The inferiority and hatred she'd harbored for Sara unnie her whole life—eyes welling with false mourning moments ago—surged like sewage overflow. The orphan bitch who'd hogged her dad's love; the murderous urge to tear her apart.
And last night.
Drugging Ohu with sedative-laced beer in the living room, dragging him out cold to the master bed, plastic sheets down, stripped and bound. The mad glee as she sliced his pig gut with a scalpel.
All crashing in like waves.
"Gasp......! Hah, hah......!"
Ayoung's hands shook violently around her phone. Breath ragged, cold sweat poured like rain from her brow.
"What...... what was that......? What was I just...... thinking......?"
The caring auntie self and the psycho killer self clashed in one brain, birthing contradiction. Head-splitting migraine like bursting vessels— she clutched her skull, slumping toward the desk.
Fwaaash!
Like someone slammed a hard reset.
The alien memories lasting ~5 seconds vanished into black void.
"......"
Ayoung panted, slowly lifting her head. The skull-cracking pain, the grotesque vision of herself grinning with scalpel—gone like a summer night's nightmare.
"Hah...... Been overdoing it lately."
She grabbed a tissue, wiping brow sweat.
"Stress from Sara unnie's thing must be bad. Hallucinations and all...... Need vitamins. Can't collapse if I'm looking after Ohu."
Just 5 seconds. The brief fissure couldn't shatter the hypnosis-enforced "loving auntie" state. She rationalized the dissonance as fatigue and stress, naturally.
Back to doting aunt in a blink, flipping through files, diving into work.
That afternoon, as the sun dipped low, Ayoung left KHC HQ for the crime scene—Shooting Star's home, now under Hero Association special cleanup.
This is where...... Sara unnie lived...... her hell......
The rundown hallway apartment, cordoned by police tape.
Inside: white hazmat suits, gas masks—cleanup crew hustling.
"Director! Smell's not fully gone—wait outside."
"No, it's fine. Some belongings to sort."
Special disinfectants and industrial deodorizers had tamed the vomit-inducing stench that wrecked Ohu and cops. But the master bed's deep crimson bloodstains, the tub's black crust—testaments to the horror.
Gloved, masked, sad eyes peeking, Ayoung carefully boxed Sara's effects.
Unnie...... How lonely and hurt were you here......
Faded clothes, old photos—hypnosis-born tears flowed as she mourned her "sister," sorting with care.
Her pocket buzzed. She pulled her phone, opening messenger to update nephew.
A faint smile curved her lips mid-text. The cute cat-eared girl from morning—snarling at her but scarfing food. Miyang, Ohu's girlfriend, she firmly believed.
A playful adult tease slipped in.
【 Sent 】
Ding.
"......Grk!"
Compared to morning—a tsunami, dozens, hundreds times fiercer, clearer. Second dissonance ravaged her brain.
Bweeeeeep!!
"Aaaagh......!"
She dropped the box, clutching her head. Vision blinked red, nerves burning like fire—phantom agony everywhere.
Blue lightning-wreathed catgirl smashing through surgery door. Miyang.
Girlfriend? Roomie? No—that heteromorph villain bitch who'd pinned her, jammed high-voltage into her body.
Electrocution: muscles tearing, sphincters failing, collapsing in rage.
"Fuck...... that, fucking bitch...... tied me up......!"
Breath choked. Amid eye-popping pain, memory replayed: Ohu shoving phone screen, flash blinding her last moment.
All fake. Grief. Affection. This cursed auntie act.
She'd been toyed by that retarded pig's hypnosis since yesterday—cleaning enemy bitch's corpse, cooking for her spawn, groveling.
Fwaaash!
Truth shards whirled once more, forcibly deleted into black void.
"Gasp, heuk...... hah......."
5 seconds. Precisely 5—hypnosis overlaid again.