Brainwashed Captain (Rahe - Perception Alteration Brainwashing) (1)
'A gambler after all, but it seems I picked the right answer.'
Villain No. 13 let out a quiet sigh of relief in his mind as he observed Rahe's state. In that fleeting instant, he'd chosen the option for brainwashing on a half-gamble, but Rahe was complying far better than anticipated.
From his investigations, Rahe had no lover to speak of. There weren't even any rumors of romance. She might have kept a secret affair hidden from those around her, but that didn't fit her character at all. Her daily life left no room for such leisure anyway.
Awakeners found it hard to date in the first place. Each one was a walking bomb of danger, their public image was poor, and they had to be cautious about relationships with ordinary people. Even pairing up with fellow Awakeners was tricky—most Awakeners were women (No. 13 being the irregular exception). So, few had partners.
He'd judged that pretending to be a lover and exploiting that weakness wouldn't work. What about family, then? Her parents were both alive and well, and she had one sister. Their relationship seemed decent enough, but they only met once or twice a year. The intel was thin, and such infrequent contact wouldn't allow for deep infiltration.
Weighing various candidates, he'd ultimately settled on 'workplace relationships.' Rahe lived for her job like it was a hobby, stubborn and rigid in her thinking. Whether from the war she'd endured or her innate nature, she was strict about hierarchy too. Knowing all this, his choice wasn't mere gambling.
With rational logic behind it, the brainwashing had clearly taken hold. He could guide Rahe more smoothly than expected.
As for the 'Club disciplinary issue,' it wasn't even something No. 13 had planted—it had bubbled up from Rahe herself. Since she'd thought of it independently, it was easy to make her believe, and it helped her accept the current situation more naturally.
Click, click—he could almost hear the gears meshing perfectly.
At this point, he was more than halfway to success. All that remained was to roll the snowball carefully, without letting it veer off course.
In the living room of Rahe's officetel, right in the center, Rahe stood at rigid attention in the at-ease position.
Villain No. 13 lounged on the sofa directly in front of her, while Apple clung tightly to his side, whispering advice without restraint.
Having secured Rahe's promise of cooperation, No. 13 had fired off various questions, receiving answers in return. Most concerned Club and the recent kidnapping incident. Rahe fleshed out details from her report, speaking as if confirming them aloud.
No. 13 didn't need to hear it, but the goal was to draw out more words from her—one by one. By making her think and speak for herself, he'd weave her deeper into the situation naturally. To reduce any sense of dissonance.
He pictured a web-filled space. An intruder might move freely at first. But the more the prey struggled, the tighter the strands bound it—until it couldn't budge.
As he'd envisioned, Rahe's somewhat stiff expression had softened subtly compared to moments ago. Still dignified and solemn, but no signs of unease or suspicion.
Even when No. 13 strayed from the topic, the implanted suggestion Never doubt your superior's words held firm—she answered without fail. No more ignoring his questions like before.
When he probed something sensitive like her measurements, she flickered with slight agitation but answered straightforwardly anyway. Learning her breasts were a top-heavy 96cm G-cup was valuable intel. Bigger than the report he'd checked.
Had they grown in the interim?
"Any more questions...?"
"Nah, the report's good enough. Plenty. You grasp the severity of this mess just fine, don't you, Captain Rahe?"
"...Yes. But all responsibility lies with me for failing in education and command. Please keep that in mind."
Even to the end, she thought of her subordinates. A touching trait in Captain Rahe—and an obvious weakness to exploit.
"Like I said earlier, don't worry too much, Rahe. I'm not here to slap direct discipline on you. Or Club, for that matter. She didn't panic even after being kidnapped by a villain and returned safe and sound—that's commendable. Upper brass sees it the same way."
"R-Really...? Then..."
"But that's that. No guarantee it won't happen again on the field. We need to reinforce training and precautions. That's my take. Thoughts?"
"Agreed. I'll handle retraining personally, soon as possible. Detailed procedures and content via report."
"Now that's Captain Rahe. Reliable as ever."
No. 13 nodded, sounding pleased. But the real pitch came now.
"Still, Captain Rahe—as you said, this is entirely your fault. Your incompetence and command failure. Can we really trust you with retraining? That's the question."
"...Then..."
"Don't misunderstand. Not shipping you off to another unit. I trust you, Rahe. You'll do a stellar job retraining. Whether upper management buys it is another story."
Rahe wore a puzzled look, not quite grasping the point. No. 13 dropped the circling and got direct.
"So, right here, I want to train you myself. It'll be superficial, but if I oversee your training content personally, everyone'll buy it."
Rahe caught on quick, nodding. A flicker of visible relief crossed her face. Discipline downgraded to supervised training? Incredibly lenient.
"Good. Training starts now... but first, attire fit for it."
Attire? Only then did Rahe notice her clothes. Good lord. How had she overlooked it until now?
In this solemn space, this official setting, she wore comfy home wear—a loose t-shirt and thin shorts. Her pale legs and plump thighs exposed to the brink.
Plus, thanks to the suggestion, she perceived this room as the 7th Squad base—her usual captain's office. Not office-appropriate. Not in front of a superior.
Rahe's face flushed crimson. Heat surged through her.
"Your outfit says it all about the 7th Squad's discipline, Captain. Strip that sloppy getup now."
At No. 13's order, Rahe hurriedly shed her shirt and bottoms. Pink lingerie hugged her ample breasts and hips.
No. 13 swallowed hard at the vivid sight, more intense up close. Without pause, he pressed on.
"That underwear doesn't suit serious training either. Too slutty and provocative. Poor mobility. Off with it."
A superior's command. Never to be doubted.
Shamed by her own mismatch in attire, Rahe swiftly stripped. Her bra hit the floor with a soft thud, panties dragged down next.
Her mature, ripe breasts—full and springy—bared fully. Her neatly groomed, pristine crotch exposed to No. 13's gaze.
Rahe set her panties aside and glanced down. Then, as if snapping awake, she realized her state.
"?!"
She scrambled to shield her heavy breasts and intimate area with her arms. Face beet-red, expression pure bewilderment.
'Wh-What? Why am I naked?!'
Why naked in the middle of the office—in front of her superior? Words failed amid the shock. What was happening?
To such a Rahe came No. 13's calm voice.
"Rahe, why the awkward stance?"
"N-No, it's just... I'm... naked..."
"What are you talking about? You're in proper captain's uniform."
"Pardon? What do you..."
Rahe looked down again. She was definitely naked. She'd just stripped off her t-shirt and underwear...
Stripped...
'...When did I change?'
Oddly, the body she'd seen as bare now wore her familiar captain's uniform. Dignified and stately. No mistake.
"S-Sorry. Must've been confused..."
"Happens. Anyway, Captain Rahe—mind if I inspect the 7th Squad captain's uniform up close?"
"Of course. Inspect as you please, Administrator."
With her okay, No. 13 rose from the sofa, circling the at-ease Rahe. She believed herself uniformed, but her naked body hid nothing intimate...
He savored every angle deliberately.