Common Sense Manipulation App
Chapter 37 - Moral Ambiguity

Chapter 37: Chapter 37 - Moral Ambiguity

Karl stood behind the register, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter a little too tightly. His eyes remained fixed on the door where Johnson and Maria had just passed by.

They didn’t come inside.

For a moment, Karl had been sure they were heading straight toward the fast-food joint. His stomach had tensed, his pulse had quickened—he wasn’t ready to deal with that right now. But at the last second, they veered off, turning down the street and disappearing from sight.

Karl exhaled slowly, his grip loosening.

Still, his mind wouldn’t let it go.

Maria.

She had always been... different.

Back at his old office job, she had been the kind of boss people actually liked. Warm, understanding, the type who shielded her employees from upper management’s bullshit. She was the one who had fought to keep him from getting swept up in the last round of layoffs. She even pulled him aside one afternoon, eyes filled with genuine concern, and told him she was doing everything she could to keep him employed.

Of course, it hadn’t worked in the end. He was let go like everyone else. But the fact that she even tried? That meant something.

She wasn’t just a superior. She was Maria—the woman everyone admired, the kind of presence that made people feel safe.

And yet, just now, she looked so... comfortable beside Johnson.

Her arm linked with his, her smile bright, her body leaning into him in a way that wasn’t just casual.

They were together.

And that made no sense.

Johnson was a cheating bastard. Karl didn’t need any further proof. If the guy could walk around with another woman like that in public, he had probably done worse in private.

But Maria?

That was what threw Karl off.

It wasn’t just some random woman clinging to Johnson—it was her. Someone who had once been the ideal in his mind. Someone he had respected.

Karl’s stomach twisted in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

And then, another thought crept in.

"I’m being a hypocrite, aren’t I?"

His fingers twitched against the register.

Just few days ago, he had tasted Rebbeca’s pussy.

Not just that—he had done things to her, things that shouldn’t have been so easily brushed aside. Her body, her warmth, the way her pussy trembled under his tongue—it was still fresh in his mind.

And yet, Rebbeca wasn’t just some random Milf.

She was... good.

Too good.

The kind of woman who brought him breakfast just because she thought he might need it. The kind of woman who, despite everything, still showed concern for him—even if she didn’t remember why.

And that’s what made Karl feel even worse.

Because despite how much he tried to justify it, he had used her.

He had licked her pussy, made her fall apart top of his mouth. And in the end, she had given him one of the best blowjobs he’d ever had.

And what did he give her in return?

Nothing.

Nothing but a memory that didn’t belong to her.

Karl swallowed hard, the weight of it all pressing down on him.

Rebbeca think she was held him when he cried. Rebbeca just remember sad moment, like mother comforted son, when his son in deep rabbit hole.

And now, here he was. Seething over Johnson’s infidelity while he himself was no better.

Karl clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white against the counter.

This wasn’t fair. None of it.

Maria was supposed to be one of the good ones. Rebbeca was supposed to be safe from people like him.

So why the hell did everything feel so wrong?

A customer stepped up to the register, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Uh... dude? You good?"

Karl blinked, realizing he had been standing there, completely frozen.

He forced a smile. "Yeah. What do you want?"

The guy gave him a weird look before rattling off his order. Karl barely processed it, his mind still stuck in the chaos of his own hypocrisy.

Karl spent the rest of his shift in a haze.

The monotony of work—the beeping of the register, the constant orders, the greasy smell that clung to his clothes—usually helped drown out his thoughts. But today, it only made them worse.

Every order he took, every plastic tray he handed over, every impatient sigh from a customer—it all felt like static noise in the background of his spiraling conscience.

He had no right to be angry.

And yet, he was.

No matter how much he reminded himself of his own actions, the image of Maria and Johnson together made his stomach churn. He had looked up to Maria. He had thought she was different.

And maybe she still was. Maybe he was the one projecting. Maybe she wasn’t aware of Johnson’s affairs, or maybe she was—maybe she just didn’t care.

Maybe, in the end, people weren’t as good as he wanted them to be.

And neither was he.

By the time his shift ended, Karl felt like a hollowed-out version of himself. His body ached, his uniform smelled like stale oil, and his mind was still tangled in an exhausting web of contradictions.

He clocked out, barely acknowledging his coworkers as he grabbed his bag and stepped outside. The night air was cold, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the kitchen, and he exhaled heavily, watching his breath curl into the air.

He just wanted to go home, shower, and collapse onto his bed.

But as soon as he stepped into the dimly lit hallway of his apartment building, he noticed something unusual.

A small package sat in front of his door.

Karl frowned. He wasn’t expecting anything.

He bent down, picking up the package, noting the familiar scrawl on the label.

Emily.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

Dragging himself inside, Karl tossed the package onto his kitchen counter before pulling off his hoodie. His shirt underneath was damp with sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

He didn’t even bother changing before ripping open the package.

A bottle of air freshener. A can of deodorant.

Karl’s brow furrowed.

Then, he noticed the folded note tucked inside. He unfolded it, his eyes scanning the sharp, confident handwriting.

"I swear to god, Karl, if your apartment smells like cheap oil and fried potatoes when I visit, I’m leaving. Also, start using deodorant like a functional human being. I refuse to suffocate in your sweaty bachelor stench."

Karl stared at the note, his fingers tightening around the edges.

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Then, a dry, humorless chuckle escaped him.

Because of course. Of fucking course.

Here he was, trapped in an existential crisis about morality, hypocrisy, and his own shitty decisions—meanwhile, Emily was out there, blissfully unaware, still playing the role of his pain-in-the-ass little sister.

Karl dropped the note onto the counter and leaned back against the fridge, rubbing a hand over his face.

His head was already a mess. Now, his annoying stepsister was barging in, making his life even more irritating.

He could almost hear her smug voice in his head.

"God, Karl, do you even own cologne? Or is that just the natural scent of existential dread?"

He sighed heavily, staring at the air freshener like it had personally offended him.

The worst part?

She wasn’t even wrong.

His apartment did smell like fast food grease. His clothes were coated in sweat and exhaustion. He did probably need deodorant.

But still—fuck her for pointing it out.

Karl slumped into a chair, dropping his head onto the table.

The war in his head wasn’t over yet. His moral compass was still swinging wildly between guilt, self-loathing, and misplaced anger.

And now, on top of it all, some bratty girl was making him feel like a disgusting slob.

As if his life wasn’t already miserable enough.