Chapter 87
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Ira Petrovna (5)
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Her consciousness drifted aimlessly through the endless sea of her mind.
The aftermath of pleasure's storm left only faint, glowing fragments of memory. She swam among them, groping to recall who she had been so long ago.
Black Sun.
The sole reason she had joined that shadowy organization was one: to continue her "experiments."
In other words, it violated all those tedious notions of "research ethics" and "creation ethics" that had once bound her.
The academy's stodgy elders had feared her talent and sought to suppress it.
'...Well, after I went on about resurrecting the dead, who could blame them.'
What she had broken was the one taboo called the realm of the gods.
Resurrecting the dead.
It was a goal far removed from—and far more dangerous than—the dream she'd held when first joining the sect: crafting dolls modeled after mighty heroes.
So she understood.
She held no grudge against the sect, nor did they condemn her for leaving.
'Except for my master, that is.'
Masha Leosika.
Ira's lips curved into a faint smile at the memory.
But it had been unavoidable.
The one she longed to revive was her only family—her little sister. Who could have talked her out of it?
She remembered.
The sweet, ordinary girl who had always trailed after her, beaming with pride in her big sister.
That child had no talent.
She had entered the academy out of sheer duty, forever teetering on the brink of failure and straggling behind. Ira had wanted to pull her out, to shield her safely in her own lab.
But even that proved impossible.
Echoing in her mind came the voice of Rene Moro, the academy vice principal at the time—cold as iron.
"They make up less than a tenth of the students enrolled at the academy. Yet straggler students are essential cornerstones for our future, Miss Petrovna."
"…I've heard you're planning the straggler exam. Does that mean you're sacrificing all those kids?"
"It's not a sacrifice. It's tempering—like forging iron—to make them stronger. If they could slip free of their duty just because they lack talent, who would stay at the academy and risk their lives for humanity? Before I took office, applications to the academy had plummeted. Just like with you, Ira Petrovna."
"Ugh…!"
It was the academy's merciless code, decreed by the newly appointed Rene Moro.
He was a zealot, consumed by apocalyptic conviction.
"Soon—in 10 years, no, 20—we must escape this great rift and seek a new world. That's the lifespan of this rift. We must depart, and for that, every human must possess hunter talent!"
"But—!"
"Those hopeless stragglers must awaken their potential. They must awaken—even if it means a deadly gamble with their lives."
She was powerless against that colossal machine.
Perhaps it began then.
The curse that took root in her heart, impossible to erase.
Until nothing remained but that near-mad vow to resurrect her dead sister.
She had faith, at least.
The "data" holding every memory and trait of her sister still lived, breathing, on her lab server.
A fitting body for her sister.
Not some lifeless puppet, but a flawless vessel to cradle her soul and sustain true life.
If only she could craft that.
And just recently, she had seen Kang Ihyeon.
More precisely, his "Clone Creation" skill—a miracle akin to divinity.
'...Could that man's power make it possible?'
That was when it happened.
Her mind, brimming with her dead sister's cherished face, began to surface with the name "Kang Ihyeon."
And a swarm of alien thoughts whispered at her ear like specters.
'My love.'
'The one I adore.'
'He's so handsome.'
'So cool.'
'Great body, and his cock...'
'So manly.'
Like a virus, those thoughts eroded her own mind, devoured it whole.
'No. I...!'
She fought desperately. But the more she resisted, the louder they grew.
And—
"Hup!"
She jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.
Her heart thundered wildly.
"Haa, haa... Wh-what the hell is this...!"
Spotting Kang Ihyeon's face right before her, she shot upright and glared daggers. No trace of affection or admiration.
"You! What did you do to me!"
"Huh?"
Kang Ihyeon was genuinely thrown by her fury.
He'd thought the hypnosis flawless, but this was off-script.
"Did the hypnosis break? You're supposed to like me...?"
"Haa, I knew it! Those bizarre voices echoing in my head... those filthy emotions... all your handiwork!"
"W-wait a sec. This is a misunderstanding..."
Instinct kicked in—he reached for the one surefire fix: that ridiculous toy hypnosis gun.
But she caught the motion.
Blue mana threads shot from her fingertips, materializing to smack the gun clean from his grasp.
It clattered limply to the floor.
"Damn...!"
In a flash, he tried summoning his icy aura. But Ira sensed even that faint mana surge. More threads lashed out, binding his limbs in an instant.
"Ugh!"
Helpless, he was trussed up tight before he could fight back.
She slowly reeled in the fallen gun with her threads, drawing it to her side.
"This... I get it now. You've been toying with me using this thing all along."
Ira's eyes filled with icy contempt, as if eyeing a worm.
"A Maker Sect gadget to subdue me. I'd forgotten... ab...out..."
That was when it hit.
Her gaze drifted naturally to the gun barrel.
Nothing more.
But her body went rigid, defying her will.
The sweet curse rooted deep within her body took hold.
No shot fired.
Just beholding that plastic muzzle.
Her vision glazed over.
A conditioned response, perfectly Pavlovian.
Like a dog drooling at a bell's chime, her body plunged back into hypnotic bliss at the mere sight of the gun.
Srrk.
The threads binding Kang Ihyeon slackened, power draining away.
He sensed the shift.
"Ah, you..."
A vicious smile crept across his face—he understood it all now.
His eyes fixed not on the gun in her hand.
But on Ira herself.
Her blue eyes—meant to blaze with scorn and rage—lost focus. The threads' glow flickered faintly, vitality ebbing.
Her body betrayed her utterly.
"Wh-what's happening... why am I suddenly so weak... what the hell did you do!"
Kang Ihyeon brushed off the limp threads like pesky cobwebs.
Then, with deliberate slowness—for her eyes—he scooped up the gun from the floor.
The instant he did.
"Hut...!"
Ira convulsed. Heat bloomed unbidden between her thighs, slickness soaking through.
"Why... why is my body...! Hng, move, dammit, move!"
Her mind screamed for defiance.
Yet her flesh fawned on the toy like a loyal hound greeting its master.
"Amusing."
He closed in, seized her chin, forced her gaze up. Dangled the gun before her vacant stare.
"Your body's crazy for this toy. Hasn't even been fired, and look—it's already gushing."
"Hut" Shut up...! You bastard, what did you do to me...!"
"What did I do? Just had some fun with you. Guess that hypnosis etched into your body hasn't faded yet."
He tapped the barrel lightly to her brow.
"Well then, round two? This time, wide awake. You'll watch your own body turn slutty, eyes wide open."
Her knees buckled on command.
Thud.
No chance to resist—she knelt at his feet.
Her will irrelevant; her body was his, tamed to perfection.
Kang Ihyeon saw it clearly.
This wasn't fresh hypnosis. Closer to her body believing it was hypnotized.
Days of relentless "experiments" had branded the gun itself as pleasure's summons, submission's cue.
No need to fire anymore. Aim and mime, and her flesh obeyed on cue.
With an irritated huff, he yanked her black hair roughly, hauling her head back.
Pressed the barrel to her eyes, mock-clicked the trigger—click, click—and murmured like a devil.
"You admire me."
"No..."
"You love me."
"Hng, st-stop..."
"You're a cock-starved bitch who can't live without my dick."
"Shut... shut up!"
Futile rebellion. Each word burrowing in, her eyes dulled further.
In her mind, that precious sister's face—the one she'd kill to revive—faded like a worn snapshot.
Something else rushed in to fill the void.
Kang Ihyeon's face. His musky sweat. His chiseled frame. The brutal girth that had impaled her.
Vivid. Impossibly vivid.
Thump, thump, thump.
Her heart raced—not her own. Not terror.
Thrill. Devotion. Craving.
Emotions she'd scorned as worthless now ruled her pulse.
But.
"Love" couldn't claim it all.
Deepest in her core, her scientist's cold logic fought on.
'Fake feelings. Forced branding, nothing more.'
She glared at him through agonized eyes as he cooed sweet lies.
"Th-think you can break me with cheap tricks like that?"
But then.
Kang Ihyeon drew his cock—right in her face.
That monstrous thing.
Ahh.
Once more, that heady, primal musk flooded her brain.
The scent sank into her lungs; her final bastion crumbled like sand.
"I-I won't... give in to this...!"
"But you're smiling?"
"What?"
"You're smiling."
"M-me...?"
Her hands flew to her face. Desperate tug at lips twitching upward.
No use.
Laughter bubbled free.
'What do I even want...'
To wag her tail.
To get railed senseless by that hardness.
To submit utterly at his feet.
At last.
A scalding tear traced her cheek.
Defeat. Liberation.
She rose slowly, legs splayed lewdly. Spread her pussy wide for him, pleading.
"You perverted fuck, hng, because of you... I might've lost my mind..."
"......"
"Please... please shove it in... rape me senseless... make me forget it all...! Please!"
"Was gonna anyway."
Kang Ihyeon scratched his head, sighing like it was a chore.
"Kneel."
"Hng, y-yes..."
Meek as a dog, she dropped to all fours before him.
He snarled into her dark locks, one fistful gripped tight. Lined up behind her ass. Rammed his shaft home into her dripping slit—no mercy.
Pfuk—!
Her body lurched.
He yanked her hair to match his thrusts, pounding her like a beast in rut.
Slap, pfuk, pfuk!
Squelching filth echoed loud.
Her mind blazed white.
Resistance, reason, memories—all liquefied beneath his savage pistoning.
Nothing left to think.
Just the searing intrusion claiming her depths. Just the man owning her soul.
"Haa, haa, hut, ahng...! Deeper, harder! Wreck me more...! Haaak!"
She was a bitch now, begging for her ruin.