Common Sense Manipulation App
Chapter 33 - Emotion

Chapter 33: Chapter 33 - Emotion

Karl groaned, rubbing his temples. "Shut up, Chilie."

But the damage was done. The more he thought about it, the worse it became. Rebecca—who he had been entangled with in ways that were anything but maternal—now saw him as some fragile soul in need of comfort?

And she actually bought it.

He exhaled sharply, turning away from the mirror. He needed a distraction. Food. Sleep. Anything but thinking about this twisted mess.

Just as he reached for his fridge, a soft knock sounded at his door.

Karl froze.

For a brief moment, irrational panic surged through him. Rebecca? Had she realized something? Was she back to confront him?

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Rebecca.

It was Lucas.

And in his hands was a neatly packed food container.

Karl blinked. "Uh... hey?"

Lucas looked visibly awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey... uh, Rebecca told me you probably haven’t eaten yet, so... she made extra and asked me to bring this over."

Karl’s stomach twisted again, but this time for a different reason.

Rebecca made this?

Lucas must have noticed his hesitation because he sighed. "Look, man, I don’t know what’s up between you two. Honestly, I don’t want to know. But... she’s being nice to you. So just take it."

Karl swallowed. He hesitated, then slowly reached for the container. "Thanks."

Lucas nodded, stepping back as if ready to leave. "Don’t overthink it, alright?"

And just like that, he turned around and walked off, hands in his pockets.

Karl closed the door, staring at the container in his hands.

Warmth seeped through the plastic. The smell of home-cooked food drifted through the air. Something simple. Something comforting.

Something that shouldn’t have made his chest feel tight.

Karl slumped onto his couch, setting the food down on his table.

Rebecca’s concern wasn’t fake.

He knew that.

And somehow, that made everything worse.

He picked up his phone, fingers hovering over the app.

What now? Did he change her memories again? Make her forget this ridiculous motherly warmth she felt toward him?

His thumb hovered over the screen.

Then, after a long pause...

He locked his phone.

A strange exhaustion settled over him. Not the usual kind. Not just physical fatigue.

Something deeper.

Something he wasn’t ready to name.

Instead, he reached for the container, opened it, and took a bite.

The food was warm.

And so was the feeling that came with it.

Karl chewed slowly, his mind refusing to settle.

His stomach wasn’t rejecting the food, but his thoughts were in absolute chaos. Rebecca wouldn’t remember what happened, that much was clear. But why had her memories been rewritten like that?

Before he could spiral further, a familiar voice rang in his head, silky and smug.

"Oh, My Lord, why dost thou wear such a troubled expression? Fret not! Thy dear Rebecca shall never recall, nor shall she ever feel, the taint of thy debauchery."

Karl nearly choked on his food. "Chilie."

"Yes, My Lord?" The app’s voice was as infuriatingly composed as ever.

Karl wiped his mouth and exhaled sharply. "You’re saying she won’t ever remember what actually happened?"

Chilie Jean chuckled. "Indeed. The very fabric of her perception has been tailored to remove any and all traces of carnal misconduct on thy part."

Karl frowned. That was a relief—sort of—but the way Rebecca saw him now still made no sense. "Then why does she think I cried in her arms?"

"Ah! A most intriguing inquiry!" Chilie’s voice took on an exaggerated air of importance, as if he were about to deliver an academic lecture. "My Lord, thou must understand that memory reconstruction is not a mere act of erasure, but a delicate weave influenced by the target’s vibes and feelings at the moment of manipulation."

Karl blinked. "...What?"

Chilie sighed dramatically, as if deeply disappointed in Karl’s lack of noble intellect. "Put simply, My Lord, when one’s perception is altered, the mind fills in the void with a plausible reality, shaped by the emotional state and subconscious interpretations of the target at the time."

Karl stared at his phone, slowly processing the words.

"So..." He gulped, suddenly feeling cold. "You’re saying that when I was with Rebecca, the reason she sees me as some fragile little thing is because—"

"Precisely, My Lord!" Chilie interrupted, positively delighted. "At that moment, the vibe—nay, the essence—she perceived from thee was akin to that of a mother comforting her dear, wretched son!"

Karl nearly dropped his spoon. His throat went dry.

His stomach churned.

His brain short-circuited.

No. No way.

Rebecca had been...

She had been in that position with him, doing that...

And the entire time...

She felt like a mother comforting a son?

A shudder crawled down Karl’s spine. He swallowed thickly, trying to force the thought out of his head, but the damage was already done. The realization hit him like a truck, leaving behind nothing but pure existential dread.

Meanwhile, Chilie Jean continued, completely unfazed by Karl’s inner turmoil. "Oh, what a cruel jest of fate! To be seen not as a lustful rogue, but as a sorrowful child in need of solace! Verily, My Lord, this must weigh heavily upon thy conscience."

Karl clenched his jaw, gripping his spoon as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. "This is messed up."

"Indeed! But such is the nature of power, My Lord. One cannot control how another’s heart shall reconstruct the truth." Chilie’s tone softened, as if offering mock sympathy. "Alas, thou hast been cast as the tragic figure in her mind. The pitiable young man, burdened by an unseen sorrow. And thus, she extends unto thee not her body, but her nurturing warmth."

Karl groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "This is so messed up."

Chilie chuckled. "Wouldst thou prefer she recall the true events, then? That her memories remain untouched by fabricated sentiment?"

Karl’s breath hitched.

He hesitated.

No. No way in hell.

Whatever twisted version of reality Rebecca now believed, it was still better than that.

Karl exhaled sharply, his hands shaking slightly. "I need a drink."

"Oh, but My Lord, dost thou truly believe alcohol shall cleanse thee of this burden? Nay! The weight of reality is not so easily washed away."

Karl groaned again. "Shut up, Chilie."