Chapter 62 True Education TV: Receiving True Education (1)

I refused Third Mother's offer to provide me with some travel expenses before I left.

I knew full well that my stubbornness was pointless.

And though I had no idea how much money Third Mother intended to give me, I also knew that—considering she was the one managing the funds the cult had ruthlessly extorted from desperate people—it would be pocket change to her.

But I didn't want to take even a single cent from the cult, not when I was leaving without so much as a goodbye to my mothers, my sister, or even my younger sister.

I simply didn't want to be entangled with them any longer—not even for something like this.

That didn't mean I hated my mothers, though.

Even First Mother, who had been so determined to turn me into her personal sex slave—I still held some affection for her in my own way.

The only one I truly despised was Third Mother, who had likely orchestrated this entire mess.

"You really won't take it? At least take ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a million won. A stack of fifty-thousand-won bills won't even weigh that much. It's lighter than a small water bottle."

"No thanks."

"...Alright. If that's what my son wants."

I found Third Mother's feigned concern disgusting, but I kept my mouth shut.

We'd be parting ways soon anyway—no point in picking a fight now.

I knew how ridiculous it was, too. After everything I'd done with all of them—except Fourth Mother and Third Mother—now I was suddenly acting like this. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

But I had made up my mind. I would leave without taking a single penny from them.

Not because of my mothers.

But because of me.

Because of the unknown power inside me that had driven me to do terrible things to Fourth Mother, First Mother, and even Second Mother.

I could never use this power again.

To seduce women so easily, to toy with their bodies and minds at will... If I kept doing that, how was I any different from my father, who had turned vulnerable people into his followers?

At least I had one small mercy—inside my coat, hanging in the men's dressing room at the funeral hall, was the modest sum of money my sister and younger sister had given me to buy gifts for them in the outside world.

If I budgeted carefully, it would last me a week. Maybe even two, given my experience with frugal living in the cult.

I had no idea how I would survive in the outside world—hell, I'd lived in isolation even within the cult. But no matter where I ended up, it had to be better than staying here, committing incest and drowning in the embrace of my mothers.

With that resolve, I returned to the funeral hall and entered the men's dressing room to retrieve my coat.

I rummaged through the pockets and pulled out the paper envelope my sister and younger sister had sweetly handed to me, telling me it was a "gift."

Inside were crumpled bills—likely painstakingly saved over years of forced labor, not part-time jobs, within the cult.

They had called it a gift, but what they really meant was: "Don't suffer out there. Eat well, live well, and come back to us."

I knew that. That's why I hadn't spent a single won of it until now.

The thought of using it all for myself filled me with guilt, but I had no choice.

Better to spend this money on myself than to return with gifts and see my sister and younger sister again.

Because if I did...

Suddenly, an image flashed through my mind—my sister Ji-hye's large breasts.

Even bigger than her birth mother, First Mother's—yet, perhaps because she was still young, they remained perky despite their size, without any sagging.

I shook my head, forcing the memory away.

"Ugh."

Then came the next intrusive thought—my younger sister's bare feet.

Sickly and always bundled in layers of clothing, yet her feet were often left bare, pale and soft and pretty.

And because she trusted me, her older brother, completely, she would often expose her bare skin to me.

Like Second Mother, she was frail—but unlike Second Mother, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who had no serious illnesses, my younger sister was genuinely ill.

And yet here I was, getting hard at the thought of her bare feet, her underarms, and her small, barely developed breasts—even though she had only recently become an adult.

The moment I realized I was starting to see even my sister and younger sister as objects of desire, my resolve hardened further.

I could never return to the cult. I could never see them again.

Because the moment I stopped seeing them as my sister and younger sister and started seeing them as women—women I wanted even more because of who they were—that would be the moment we had to part forever.

I put on my coat.

Then, just as I was about to leave... I changed my mind and quietly made my way toward the women's dressing room instead.

I carefully opened the door.

Second Mother was lying there. I watched her for a while, but she showed no signs of waking.

She had always been frail, and after what I'd put her through, it was no surprise she was exhausted.

I glanced around the cold, empty funeral hall.

Third Mother had disappeared somewhere, probably knowing I was about to leave. And Fourth Mother, who had been left alone to clean up after the meal, was nowhere to be seen either.

I slipped into the women's dressing room and began searching through the drawers for the wad of cash Fourth Mother always carried.

I had planned to leave without saying goodbye, but if I got caught by Fourth Mother now, my resolve might waver.

Still, I felt almost no guilt about stealing.

After all, as Fourth Mother's right-hand man, I had helped the cult distribute the Holy Medicine throughout the outside world. I had every right to take this money as my share.

I searched every nook and cranny but couldn't find the cash.

Given Fourth Mother's personality, she wouldn't have hidden it. Strange. But there was no reason to linger.

I had to leave before my resolve weakened.

With that thought, I turned toward the door.

But before I could take a single step, I stopped.

I turned back.

This would be the last time I ever saw Second Mother's face. I couldn't resist.

I knelt beside her sleeping form.

Her face looked so peaceful, like a child's.

And yet, I had ruthlessly splattered it with my hot, sticky cum.

"Mother... This is goodbye."

I thought of my memories with Second Mother—the few happy, tender ones, and the dozens of painful ones involving human experimentation. I used the warmth of the good memories to push through the pain as I pressed my lips to her cheek.

"Mmm..."

Second Mother murmured in her sleep.

I stood up carefully, trying not to make noise. Then I glanced at her lower belly, hidden beneath the blanket I had draped over her.

Just an hour ago, I had pushed the thick head of my cock inside her and filled her with so much cum that it must have overflowed.

Which meant she might be pregnant...

No. That couldn't be. Pregnancy wasn't that easy, and given Second Mother's frail health and irregular cycles, the chances were slim.

I shook my head again, dispelling the anxious thoughts that threatened to drive me mad, then left the women's dressing room.

The funeral hall was still eerily quiet.

What had I been expecting?

That Third Mother would come out to say goodbye, to wish me well as I left?

Disgusted with myself for craving affection even from the mother I hated, I stepped out of the funeral hall.

Wanting to avoid running into Fourth Mother, I didn't use the main entrance but instead slipped out through what looked like a staff-only door.

But that might have been a mistake.

Or maybe it was fate—just as Second Mother had said.

Maybe the false god really did exist, pulling the strings of my life like this.

The moment I opened the door and stepped outside, I was met with a scene I hadn't expected.

A middle-aged man I didn't recognize had Fourth Mother by the arm, holding her in place while shoving a phone camera in her face as she covered her own with her hands.

He didn't seem to be a police officer.

Nor did he seem to be a victim's family member with a grudge against the cult.

If he were, he wouldn't be harassing innocent Fourth Mother—he'd be going after Third Mother, the real mastermind.

"Yeah, guys. You seeing this? Today, this cult bitch is gonna get a dose of True Education!"

The unfamiliar middle-aged man spoke into his phone in a high-pitched voice that didn't match his bulky frame, made even larger by the padded jacket he wore.

When Fourth Mother tried to turn away from the camera, he followed her movements, determined to keep her in frame.

As he did, the tattoos hidden beneath his jacket sleeve became visible.

I'd seen similar ones on the bodies of people I'd often dealt with while working under Fourth Mother, but these were different.

Cheaper-looking, like they'd been done at a bargain price.

"Huh? The hell you lookin' at?"

The man suddenly noticed me and snapped.

I hadn't reacted at all—just stood there staring—but he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seemed to take offense anyway.

"You wanna get your ass beat, you cult fuckin' freak?"

His tone was crude and aggressive.

Then, after glancing at his phone for a moment, he released Fourth Mother and started toward me.

As he did, he deliberately rolled up his sleeve to show off his tattoos, as if trying to intimidate me.

What was this called in the outside world again?

Cyber wreckers?