Karma of Obsession (2)
In Blue Soul, there was a system called Personality Stats. Second only to unique traits in importance, these had to be nurtured carefully depending on your playstyle. For instance, there were dozens of traits like ferocity, cold-heartedness, deception, and so on. The common ones came with demerits, forcing you to dump a fortune just to pull purely positive ones.
But back then, the devs still had a shred of conscience. Among them was one broken trait that skyrocketed exponentially the higher your 'bond level' climbed from spending time together with the player and character. That trait was none other than Obsession.
Ian, strapped for cash at the time, had no choice but to run a fixed 5-star party on a shoestring budget. He couldn't afford alternatives. So, the sky-high bond levels he inevitably built became a godsend, thanks to this pioneer of a trait. Minimal demerits, too.
That's how Ian swapped every party member's base personality to Obsession. The one and only issue...
Yuria. She was affected by it way more than the rest.
"..."
For example, she topped the list of characters who got utterly heartbroken if benched from the party even once. No clue why, but whenever everyone was asleep, or in the dead of night, or even when deployed elsewhere, if Ian 'called' her, she'd show up—anytime, anywhere. And in danger? She'd materialize out of nowhere.
The scary part? Not a single trace of her ever lingered anywhere.
When forcibly excluded from the party, she'd just stand there frozen with a crying emoticon, mindlessly wiping a window. Pitiful and creepy. Even after better replacements came along, he kept forcing her into the lineup anyway. And whenever he logged off and back on, she was the first one he'd reunite with—and pet.
But that's games for you. Characters who excel in every area are nonexistent. If one existed in reality, it'd be a human rights violation, a balance-breaker on its own. Take mob-clearers versus solo-raid specialists.
Yeah. Sometimes, you gotta bench your favorites, even if it stings.
Now imagine benching her—not once, but abandoning her for 15 years.
She wasn't the type to just take gifts; she'd scavenge them herself, bring them over, and demand headpats. A character that obsessed over me like that... standing right in front of me now. Abandoned for 15 years.
"Master. Are you awake?"
Master. Most of my characters didn't call me that. I never set a fixed title—Captain, Admiral... Master... whatever suited them. But the one always in a maid outfit, calling me Master? That stuck in my memory.
Yuria.
The chill running down my spine made me instinctively duck back into the coffin.
In the heavy silence, the rain battering the window grew louder, the mood darkening further. Just as the room's chill had me on the verge of a scream, her voice echoed from beyond the door again.
"Are you awake?"
"..."
Silence again. How'd she know I was up? It was barely dawn at best. The worn surroundings screamed that years had passed. Was she watching every minute, every second, waiting for me to emerge? For years?
The thought made my hairs stand on end, goosebumps prickling.
A puzzled tone seeped from beyond the door. "I saw you open the coffin myself. Heard your voice, too. So why... won't you greet me?"
"...!"
She already knew I was here.
The demure, quiet voice rippled through the room like falling rain. But something felt off from the old days. Now, it carried a sticky, cold dampness seeping through the door.
"Master, I read the letter you slipped under the door 15 years ago. You said you'd definitely return."
"..."
"No answer to the end?"
A sigh from beyond, and the door swung open naturally. Of course. No lock on it, and as a guild NPC, she could open it whenever.
But.
This freshly sealed Iron Maiden was a 'miracle'-grade item, as its traits showed. To even dent it, you'd need a 6-star at minimum.
The original Yuria could barely scratch it. Yet what happened now...
Made Ian doubt his own eyes.
Crunch.
Yuria's small hand shattered his common sense like glass. Surpassing the steel by dozens of times over, she cracked open the Iron Maiden—bare-handed. Like peeling an eggshell.
"Master, you're awake. So why... won't you answer...?"
Right—now I remember. When I quit the game, I left letters for all my characters. They had such long affection meters, after all.
"Why... are you avoiding me...? You heard me."
"Yuria."
"I... I made this coffin new. So I felt it. From the necklace you gave me. That you'd returned."
"..."
"I've... always thought about it. That you, that you... would leave my side. To meet someone else besides me. I was so scared. Now answer me."
Creak—
The iron-like Iron Maiden crumpled.
"Say it's not true."
Crunch.
"It's not, right?"
Through the crumpled gap, a maid's face blinked into view. No spark in eyes any human would have. Not even a trace of the girl who'd beam and snuggle if he just patted her head.
Aura poured from her in waves, sharp as a blade even to a normie, her whole body screaming it. The immense pressure was a first for Ian—a piercing guilt like he'd committed some grave sin, freezing him solid.
What do you even say to family who shows up after 15 years with nothing but a tossed letter? And to someone who knew they were abandoned yet clung on for decades?
No—agonizing over it is already wrong. First and foremost...
Without a doubt...
"I missed you, Yuria—and I wanted to see you."
That one line. It had to be what she longed to hear most.
....
She stared blankly at the lit-up coffin. She'd made it to ensure no external attacks could touch him if he ever returned. In case she was gone when he came back.
And the moment she sensed his return via the necklace, she'd dropped everything and rushed here. Midway, she fretted over smudged makeup, if she needed a touch-up. But realizing her dream of reunion dwarfed that—heart pounding like it might burst, cold sweat ruining any makeup anyway.
Her master had returned. Nothing she could offer would suffice.
But.
"...Master?"
After racing here, the question hung unanswered.
Did he hate that she was the one greeting him? After 15 years, was another slave like her upsetting him? Had she offended him?
She knew he wasn't the type. But 15 years apart had eroded those memories bit by bit.
So Yuria grew desperate. She couldn't lose him.
If she slipped up here and disappointed him again—
Just imagining it made her hands tremble.
"..."
Not yet. She hadn't faced him to apologize. Beg for one more chance. Figure out who that 'other person' in the letter was. Resolve that final question.
Her eyes sharpened, deep pupils darkening unconsciously. Tension gripped her. This might be her last shot at life—her body instinctively plotted ways to pin him down without killing him, to stop any escape.
Yuria was terrified. Of being alone again. As bad as death.
Clinging was her only option. Without him, she was just a mere killer demon.
But.
"..."
Staring him down seriously now, her lips wouldn't move. Her past sins chained her ankles like shackles.
"Master."
It's not true, right...? The question dripped wetter than before.
Yuria was lost. Words she'd repeated endlessly in his absence blanked out the moment she stood before him.
As she squeezed her eyes shut to stay silent—
Pat.
A warm, familiar hand settled on her head. So familiar. The reward he'd always given after her tributes.
"I missed you, Yuria. And—I wanted to see you."
Yuria's thoughts froze.
"..."
Sweet. So, so, so, so sweet.
An unstoppable smile spread across her cold face. Like receiving gradual rewards for everything endured.
Her anxiety melted under the warm touch.
"...Ah."
A sigh of relief escaped her. Breath catching, transparent tears—thought lost forever—streamed down her bloodshot eyes.
Her dry, gloomy expression bloomed into a smile.
He'd returned, as expected. Her once-subdued heart now thundered loud enough to drown out hearing.
Unknowingly, she sobbed in his arms for minutes. It felt real—he was back. That touch would be her new treasure.
How many hours passed? He tried to pull away.
"...More."
But Yuria wouldn't allow it. She grabbed his arm, forcing it back to her crown.
She'd washed and maintained her hair daily for this day—fluffy, scented just right.
"Don't... pull away."
"..."
"Keep going... forever like this..."
Her arms locked around his waist, hands fixed in place—she had no intention of letting go.
Her black eyes regained their spark.
He was back. Just need three kids, and it'd be perfect.
Yuria licked her plump lips and gazed up at her master.
"...You're mine now. Master."