Twisted Orbits, Warped Fates
In the deep, dark night of the Blake County Estate, I was lost in a dreamlike heat while receiving Mother Carna’s devoted yet secret “sex education.” Her gaze, which had been fixed on me as she taught me sexual service and etiquette through acts that stopped just short of direct intercourse, suddenly shifted toward the clock. By now, Knight Commander Camilla must be laying her own daughter down and teaching her these grotesque nocturnal manners. The moment that despairing parallel crossed my mind, the sense of depravity racing up my spine multiplied several times over.
And then, right at this very moment as I stared at the clock, a chill ran down my spine.
……If things had followed the original plot. The original owner of this body, that good-for-nothing extra, should already have been a cold corpse with his head severed by the sword of an enraged knight aspirant. Yet I was still alive. I had twisted the death flag and thrown it at my father instead, and now I was savoring perfect survival while receiving my mother’s service on a comfortable bed.
The overwhelming thrill of having evaded death, the forbidden depravity of using my own mother, and—
…The death flag may have passed, but there is still one I created myself.
The fact that I had laid hands on this woman right in front of me—my father’s absolute possession, my “mother”—sent dopamine flooding through my brain. Father was a man whose obsession with his belongings was fanatical. If he ever realized that I had stolen his perfect doll using a keyword he did not know and was enjoying her in secret, my throat would be cut by the cold magic of a veteran mage, not some crude swordsmanship from a knight aspirant. The blade of the guillotine, newly forged because I could not restrain my desires in a way different from the original, now hung at the back of my neck.
Yet this precarious danger only stimulated my brain and fanned the flames of excitement. I whispered quietly into the ear of the woman who had fully immersed herself in the role of a devoted countess, teaching her son nocturnal etiquette with her body.
“Mother. If Father were to learn of this, he would not let even his own son off easily.”
At my question, Carna’s hands, which had been moving beneath me, stopped. When she slowly raised her head to look up at me, I swallowed my breath. The doll’s eyes, which should have been empty, were rippling with a grotesque, intense emotion—as though some mechanical error had occurred, or as if it were her true feelings.
“……Anyway, he has not taken my body directly since I passed forty.”
Her voice carried a sticky resentment and jealousy that one would never expect from a doll that only obeyed commands.
“By now he must be completely infatuated with that innocent-looking bitch your son gifted him. As long as we keep it a secret, he will never know.”
It was the desperate jealousy of a suppressed doll, triggered by the knowledge that her master was embracing a young maid. I felt a violent surge of excitement at that chilling fragment of emotion.
This attachment and possessiveness toward her master was exactly the “bomb” mentioned in the original work… the means the protagonist used to dispose of characters who were no longer needed.
When that bomb of jealousy exploded, the count’s household—which should one day be entirely mine—had been among the characters who vanished meaninglessly in the novel. I wanted to handle that fierce bomb with my own hands and use it as a tool to obtain the count’s domain.
To do that, there is something I must first confirm.
Driven by greed, curiosity, and anticipation, I asked her,
“Mother. If you have not shared intimacy with Father for so many years, then instead of teaching me only with hands, breasts, or mouth to relieve that loneliness… would you not teach me directly?”
The moment that line-crossing question fell, her eyes—still rippling with thick jealousy and resentment—suddenly went dark with a click, as though a power switch had been flipped. The countess who had just been confiding her affectionate yet resentful feelings to her son vanished without a trace. In her place stood a perfectly inorganic face looking up at me as she spoke.
“I am property belonging to the count’s household, configured to serve only the head of the family directly.”
It was a chilling, emotionless announcement, the words of a perfect “product.”
“Tsk. What a shame.”
I clicked my tongue. The reason Mother, who had just displayed such intense jealousy, had reverted to a flawless machine at a single unreasonable demand of mine was the limitation of the control keyword Flos Abyssi that I had used. While it held higher authority than Father’s “master” keyword, it was not, strictly speaking, an absolute command that could overwrite every order.
The original novel’s setting came to mind. The President, the protagonist, and the shadowy organization he led. During the “manufacturing” process, they corrupted women’s minds and bodies in the most vicious and horrific ways imaginable, yet they never laid a private hand on the “finished products” awaiting delivery or the goods that had already been sold.
Because they were thorough businessmen, after all.
The keyword I was using was the “shared administrator key” those businessmen employed when conducting precise inspections for after-sales service or quality assurance. That was why the moment I tried to claim her body directly, a conflict of ownership occurred and the safety mechanism activated.
“Haha…… I’m really going crazy.”
Knowing from the original what would happen if I violated the doll in this state using the administrator key, I swallowed my disappointment and did not cross the line. Instead of frustration, however, a boiling joy made my shoulders tremble.
The meticulous, perverted details that had existed only as text in the original novel are operating in this reality without a single error!
That fact gave me the vivid sense that I had truly possessed the world of Making a Wife Through Hypnosis, sending a thrilling ecstasy down my spine. I looked down at Mother Carna, once again the perfect doll kneeling at my feet, and asked,
“Then, once I take the position of head of this count’s household…… Mother. No, Carna. Will you become my complete possession?”
The moment my question fell, Carna answered without the slightest hesitation, in a mechanical voice.
“At that moment, this unit will become your complete possession.”
Ah. What a perfect and tempting condition. In the end, another flawless reason to eliminate Father and swallow this household had been established. Imagining that blasphemous yet sweet future, I once again surrendered my body to the pleasure offered by the perfect doll before me.
In the room of the good-for-nothing extra who should have lost his head to a knight aspirant’s blade according to the original, only the thick sounds of pleasure flowed instead of bloody screams. Although I could not yet take her directly, I climaxed amid the ecstasy of having perfectly shattered the extra’s horrific death flag and twisted the original’s fate while receiving various secret “sex educations” through Mother’s soft hands, lips, and ample breasts.
The morning after Mother Carna’s grotesque and secret service ended, I smiled coldly as I looked down at the fifth journal entry delivered through her hands. This was something that, in the original, would never have reached me.
According to the original plot, I should have died last night, beheaded by the enraged knight aspirant. With the client’s meaningless death, the delivery obligation toward the knight commander and her daughter would have vanished, and the story would have shifted to the “auction goods arc,” where the finished dolls were sold at auction.
Once their master disappeared, the dolls were completely reconfigured into auction products tailored to the President’s tastes.
The original good-for-nothing extra’s requests had been quite vicious.
Let them feel the extreme pleasure of sexual acts, yet make them harbor intense disgust and despair toward the master who forces those acts upon them, driving them to ruin.
But once the client died, the President lightly twisted that troublesome setting. He erased the disgust, completely dominated the minds of the mother and daughter, and turned them into blind subordinates—an obvious yet dense development.
Yet the fifth journal entry now in my hands this morning proved that every trajectory of the original had been perfectly shattered. I had survived. The President was still merely my “outsourced employee” bound by contract, and the manufacturing process—still applying my vicious requests instead of the original good-for-nothing’s—had been reported in the form of this journal.
Leaning deeply into the sofa, I focused on the interim report Mother was reading aloud.
“……Normally I would have picked up the pen deep at night after all duties were finished, but today I cannot contain this swelling emotion, so I write this journal beneath the afternoon sunlight.”
The fifth journal Mother recited began, unlike usual, with Knight Commander Camilla’s overwhelming emotion.
“Last night, I finally fulfilled the most important duty as a mother. I safely completed the ‘sex education’ of my daughter, whom I had postponed because I had only ever taught swordsmanship and never known a man. When I first tried to teach her nocturnal etiquette, the child’s face turned deathly pale. But seeing is believing. When I personally demonstrated on top of him how a woman should receive pleasure and serve, the child’s attitude gradually began to change. Though she denied it at first, she eventually awakened to her natural instincts as a woman, and in the end she showed the admirable sight of soaking her lower garments while listening to my lesson. Seeing that ecstatic and heated expression, I finally felt the deep satisfaction of having become a true mother.”
“Kukuk…… Hahaha!”
I could not hold back the laughter that burst out and shook my shoulders. Admirable sight, she said. Trapped in the massive illusion created by hypnosis, Camilla was intoxicated with perfect fulfillment, unaware of what was truly being done to them.
But the daughter’s journal that followed vividly reflected the horrific hell unfolding behind that illusion.
“Mother has gone mad. No, that devilish man has completely broken Mother’s mind. Mother called it ‘education.’ Right in front of me, pale and screaming, Mother threw off her own clothes and clung to that vile man’s body, shaking her hips like a whore. ‘Watch closely. This is a woman’s joy.’ The murky eyes of Mother whispering that were filled with ecstasy. But what was most horrifying to me were the gazes of that man and those others looking down mockingly from behind Mother as she demonstrated the grotesque lesson. Mother had no idea at all. She did not know that some beings we could not perceive were watching our miserable scene from the darkness. I wanted to bite my tongue from shame and disgust, but because of the hypnotic curse that man had planted in my lower body, it was shamefully gushing fluids in time with Mother’s moans in front of those unknown voyeurs.”
So that was it! The President had used this moment as a training site for his disciples and organization members! I slapped my knee and cheered. In the original, those “unperceivable beings”—the low-ranking members of the hypnosis organization—were the ones later deployed in the grotesque gang-rape play meant to completely break the knight mother and daughter’s minds. Yet because of the single condition I had requested, those horrific supporting actors had suddenly become VIP-customized training observers for the President’s practical lesson.
“Kuhahaha! This is insane!”
The original’s details had twisted so exquisitely and comically because of my single request. A vivid record of the mother and daughter’s brutal corruption—torn between disgust and pleasure in a completely different direction from the original—was unfolding before my eyes. Suppressing the laughter that threatened to burst out, I listened once more to Karin’s miserable journal continuing through Carna’s mouth.
“My body burns as if on fire, yet my heart is frozen with cold murderous intent. I swear. Even if it costs me my last breath, I will sink my teeth into the throat of that devilish man and his organization who turned Mother into that state and violated me.”
Carna’s recitation ended. The perfect cognitive dissonance of a body melting in pleasure while the mind struggled in disgust. The overwhelming hatred and murderous intent packed into the daughter’s journal made the air in the room feel as though it were filled with a chilling killing intent.
Kukuku. How interesting. Good. Excellent!
I smiled in satisfaction. Based on the psychology revealed through the journal, countless corruption routes I could draw out in the future began to take shape in my mind. Above all, the fact that the target the female knight had sworn to tear apart and kill was not me but the original protagonist—the hypnotist President—and his organization gave me boundless wings of imagination.
When that female knight, her eyes filled with venom, eventually kneels at my feet…… should I reveal that the man and organization she hates are not the true culprits and drive her into despair? Or should I do the opposite—cook her thoroughly until she believes I am her only savior and clings to me?
I fell into pleasant fantasies about which path of corruption would make her completely mine.
Whichever way it goes, for now I can simply hide behind a perfect veil, use the Camilla the original protagonist created as a shield, and play with Karin as my material.
And the day to carry all of that out was not far away.
At that very moment—
—BOOOOOOM!
A deafening explosion and the sound of something massive shattering echoed from the direction of the main building of the Blake County Estate.