The Third Manuscript and the Reaper's Scythe
The night before I snapped that death flag, while my mother’s obedient hands relieved my lust, on the other side of the estate a mother and daughter had their lives as human beings ended and began their new existence as dolls. They must have screamed in pleasure under the hypnotist’s precise touch. How blissful it would be to watch that scene on video.
But the original novel, Making a Wife Through Hypnosis, was a strange fantasy world where saints, heroes, mages, and demons existed, yet it deliberately restrained any magical cheat abilities related to mental domination. ‘There are spells that use suggestion, but they can’t truly control people,’ the story had said. Like how drugs or sleeping agents cause memory confusion or erasure, magic could plant suggestions, but the hypnotists of this world preferred physical training and meticulously crafted words to turn living people into obedient dolls.
That was why the hypnosis depicted in the original was slower and carried a higher risk of being broken than the common mental interference magic found in other novels. Yet it stimulated something far more primal in human instinct. ‘The reason is that it doesn’t brainwash the soul directly. Instead, it makes the body surrender to the hierarchy of pleasure, forcing the mind to betray itself.’
As proof of that, there was this passage.
That night, as I raised a glass to celebrate my daughter’s promotion, I tasted the lowest, most depraved pleasure a human being could know.
The honest sentences she had written under suggestion alone contained her every action and emotion in full.
Right beside my daughter who had passed out after only a few celebratory drinks, I tangled with that young man like a beast. Afraid she might wake up, I bit my lip until it bled to stay silent, but the harder I tried, the more abnormally my body burned. The chastity I had guarded my entire life as an honorable knight was scattered between my sleeping daughter’s ragged breaths… In that moment, I felt a vile sense of corruption I had never experienced before. It was not justice or chivalry. It was nothing but the instinct of a bitch racing toward ruin. The hideous lust hidden beneath the mask of a sacred mother was, paradoxically, guiding me to the most perfect pleasure I had ever known.
Camilla’s raw yet strangely natural everyday language formed a genuine confession. In contrast, another diary contained sentences that felt almost pure in their honesty.
That man was despicably inhuman. He was a member of the legendary monster organization that manipulates people—the ‘Cradle.’
In the female knight’s second manuscript, she had shockingly deduced the true identity of ‘the President’ with ridiculous ease. It was proof of how intelligent she was, and at the same time, proof that even someone as sharp as her was utterly powerless before the hypnosis of the original novel’s protagonist, the President.
While serving in the knight order, I had heard countless ridiculous rumors about human trafficking and brainwashing, but I had never once confirmed their existence. Yet that darkness was real, and it is now swallowing both me and my mother. Mother could never dream of it. While she was being controlled by that hypnotist, forced to swallow her screams amid unwanted pleasure, I—under the hypnosis he placed on me—had to pretend to sleep and watch every single second of their obscene acts in real time.
As my mind became wholly absorbed in the female knight’s brutally honest, hatred-filled confession and despair, thick Cowper’s fluid began gushing from my swollen cock.
My artificially awakened sexual desire mocked my will, flooding hot love juices between my legs. I lay there like an immobile doll, forced to etch every single sound of my mother’s noble spirit crumbling with all my senses. My mind burned with hatred, yet my body was already being tamed by that vile magic.
The dry tear stains of the pure female knight dripped onto the manuscript and spread. As my fingertips traced over that thick, hateful despair, the overwhelming pleasure dominating my lower body made me choke on my own breath.
“Take it in your mouth, Mother.”
“Yes.”
While savoring the ruinous fetishism brought by those dried tear marks, I held the manuscript in one hand—unlike yesterday—and poured the sexual desire that had exploded from merely imagining the knight mother and daughter’s corruption into my mother’s mouth.
“Ah… I want it so badly already.”
Even in the languid afterglow of ejaculation, my mind grew clearer. Right now, at this very moment, they were surely writhing in pleasure they had never experienced before and writing tonight’s manuscript. I stayed up all night, eagerly awaiting the arrival of that new manuscript. I read the diaries filled with their false affection and forced humiliation over and over again, waiting only for the third manuscript my mother would bring me.
But the next morning, it was not my mother who knocked on my bedroom door.
“Young Master, the mail has arrived. It looks like that book… Shall I read it to you?”
The person who entered was a new maid with pure, beautiful black hair and eyes. Her name was definitely Emily. The moment she approached with a shy smile, her long hair neatly tied back with a hairband, a sentence from the original flashed through my mind.
This was it. This was the death flag.
I sat half-reclined on the bed and stared quietly at her—the girl who refused to meet my eyes and kept her gaze lowered. Instead of the knight mother and daughter’s third manuscript, it was Emily who stood before me. She was modest yet beautiful, like a pure flower blooming in a field. She was tempting.
Her snow-white apron and the neat black maid uniform buttoned all the way to her neck. Her clean, makeup-free face and long eyelashes trembling with fear held a strange purity that strangely stimulated a man’s sadistic heart.
But what completely captured my gaze was not her pitiful face.
“……”
When I lowered my eyes, an overwhelming chest that completely ignored the standard proportions of a proper maid uniform filled my entire field of vision. Think about it. This world came from a classic novel serialized in the early 2000s. Back then, even calling a character ‘busty’ in genre novels only meant somewhere between a D and G cup at most. Yet the maid standing before me now had breasts larger than her head, as if mocking the common sense of that era.
The violently cinched waist of her apron made that brutal volume look even more grotesquely pronounced. Every time she took a shallow, nervous breath, the thin fabric of her maid uniform screamed as it stretched tight, and the buttons struggling to hold her cleavage together looked like they might pop off at any second.
Beneath that supremely pure face hung two obscenely heavy, lewd fruits.
‘No wonder he couldn’t hold back.’
I instantly understood why the original novel’s lecherous extra couldn’t wait for the knight mother and daughter to be completed and had torn open this maid’s uniform. It was an incredible volume. A frustrated young master tied to his bed, imagining the knight commander and her daughter losing themselves to hypnosis, suddenly faced with those massive, defenseless breasts swaying right in front of him. There was no way he could have endured it.
It was only natural for a male to feel the primal urge to roughly grab those tempting breasts with strong hands, pin down that tearful, innocent face, and crush it beneath him.
But I knew all too well what price came with tasting that sweet fruit.
Those perfectly perky twin peaks were the ‘Grim Reaper’s Scythe’ that would coldly slice into my neck—a perfect death flag.
I coldly suppressed the lingering heat in my lower body with reason and slowly reached for the third manuscript that Emily was cautiously offering.
‘There’s no way I’m risking my life over a flower blooming on the side of the road.’
I already had the supreme prizes reserved: the knight commander known as the Empire’s Sword, who would arrive in a few days, and her daughter.
“I-I will read it for you.”
“Leave it.”
“B-but Young Master… your arm is still injured.”
“I can read it alone later. If you’re done with your business, get out.”
“Um… well… The Master strictly ordered me to serve you well because you must be ‘pent up,’ so I will perform my service before leaving.”
Emily blushed and reached toward my crotch. Her fingers trembled violently with fear. Even while terrified of losing her virginity to this lecherous young master, she could not disobey her master’s command.
“…Stop.”
I twisted my body and violently knocked her hand away. No—to be precise, I kicked her with my foot and shoved her off the bed.
“I have no intention of relieving my lust with an ugly bitch who isn’t even my type. Get out right now!”
Emily’s face turned deathly pale in an instant. She looked at me with wide, shocked eyes after I had just called her—an undeniable beauty—a ‘bitch.’ And she was clearly flustered that I had refused a service that the nameless lecherous extra from the original would never have turned down.
But soon, relief at having protected her chastity flickered across her eyes, stronger than the humiliation or confusion. Afraid I might change my mind, she quickly fled the room.
A short while later, heavy footsteps approached, and my father entered the room with my mother, Carna, in tow.
“Kuhahaha, so my son has finally come to his senses.”
Father laughed heartily, seemingly satisfied.
“That’s right. Lust must be condensed and condensed again, then poured only into the doll that has become your possession. The boy who used to devour any new maid has finally begun to act like a true member of our family.”
Father sat down beside my bed and stared at me intently. His chilling gaze felt like it was scraping across my heart.
“If you really can’t hold it in, just say so. I’ll have your mother take care of it. Her skills are the best, after all.”
My heart lurched for a moment. Had he found out that I had been controlling Mother to satisfy my desires? But I quickly realized the truth. Although Father’s eyes were smiling, behind them lay a clear warning: ‘Touch what is mine and you die.’ This was a poisoned chalice meant to test me, and an ignorant act born from not knowing the truth.
I gave a crooked smile and answered firmly.
“Isn’t Mother a toy meant only for you, Father? I will only use what is ‘mine.’”
“Hahaha! Yes, exactly! A man of our family should obsess only over his own collection!”
Father patted my shoulder lightly as he stood up. With a casual apology for testing me, he ordered Mother to read the third manuscript to me herself this time, then left the room.
Once the door closed and silence returned, I wiped away my cold sweat.
‘That was dangerous…’
The moment Father learned that I held control over Mother, my life would be over. Though it was only a short line in the original, he was not the kind of man who would share his possessions.
I stared coldly at Father’s retreating back through the window.
‘Then there is only one way.’
Either perfectly conceal the fact that I was controlling Mother, or… seize all of Father’s inheritance in advance.
I began forming a plan to swallow this family’s dark legacy of making wives through hypnosis whole, focusing on the manuscript that Mother was reading aloud in her dry, robotic voice.