Mob Yandere
Chapter 209

The Tsukuyomi no Kami, also known as Tsukuyomi no Mushi, is a god of the supernatural chronicled in the ancient histories of Fusou.

T/N: 'Tsukuyomi no Kami' is a deity from Japanese mythology associated with the moon. 'Mushi' means 'insect' or 'bug,' possibly implying corruption or mutation.

It is said she was a monstrous deity—one who bewildered, maddened, and deceived the people, compelling them to offer up their wealth, crops, livestock, and more. Her origin remains uncertain: some say she was a fallen god encountered during Fusou's expansion into the borderlands, others claim she was a calamity born from the continent, or perhaps a curse conjured by a noblewoman who lost a power struggle. Ultimately, she was destroyed before her true nature could be revealed.

'Was that definitely... from the continental dynasty?' the fox mused, rolling the dice, her bell-like voice thoughtful as she spoke from her region of origin.

'Huh. Is that so?' she continued. 'So she couldn't communicate at all because she was using a different language?'

'Ah, the snake is correct,' the fox replied to herself with a flick of her tail. 'After all, she's an artificial insect. She has no wisdom to understand words. She's merely a creature driven by instinct.'

'It's a curse trap, you know,' the demon laughed from the side. 'Well, humans are so petty.'

The fox shook her head, denying the snake's assertion, while the demon chuckled again, amused.

It was unclear in which generation the royal lineage changed its name. The continental dynasty, 'Yellow,' was a nation enriched by gold and silk.

Its most prized product was a spiritual silk used as raw material for curse-tools. The silkworms that spun this miraculous fiber were the nation's most guarded secret.

Somehow, these silkworms escaped the country. But the curse placed upon them hatched—wreaking disaster on the human world. Fusou was no exception. The curse crossed the sea, bringing great misfortune. Several noble families—once full of promise—fell into ruin.

Long ago, a merchant who had traveled to Huang conspired with Nanban collaborators to smuggle out silkworm eggs.

T/N: 'Nanban' literally means 'Southern barbarians,' historically referring to Western Europeans who arrived in Japan during the 16th century.

She imposed a curse on her fellow conspirators and rose to nobility for that 'achievement.' Few today know that the curse would return to claim her descendants centuries later.

In the end, Tsukuyomi no Mushi was merely a temporary deity—defeated and long forgotten. Harmless now. Until she is used again. Or perhaps... that is exactly why she's so convenient.

'Gathering the remnants of the clan's curse, concentrating them, and injecting them... into a vessel,' the fox said with a low hum. 'If one were to say it was well done, then it was well done.'

She had used herself—reviled by the clan—as bait. She fed the remnants with hatred, cultivating them. Then she implanted them into someone she loved. As a counterfeit god born of curses and vengeance, the remnants possessed her willingly—like charred maggots drawn to decay. And then, she was devoured.

'She's just a god cultivated by humans,' the demon scoffed. 'She can't compare to that filthy parent god.'

Another ritual was performed alongside the ritual of the Eternal God. The moon goddess invoked in that ceremony was a kind of earth goddess—a beast goddess.

In a way, she was a derivative of the one dwelling within her. One could even call her a vessel. Their affinity was unnaturally strong.

In any case, if a goddess who rules the earth and commands beasts exists, then why wouldn't she be able to dominate a mere mimicry of an insect? And why wouldn't beasts devour insects?

'Munch, munch, munch, munch,' the demon mimicked cheerfully. 'Well, she is a deity, after all. You must've enjoyed the feast.'

Even setting that aside—caterpillars are especially prone to parasitism. Possessing the lover of the daughter cursed to misfortune, attempting to use him to spread disaster—only for him to devour her instead. That power was stripped from herself alone, and the Earth Mother Goddess's essence was used as material to regenerate her son.

From the Eternal Worm God's view, that must have been unbearable. But by then, everything was already too late.

...And neither the daughter nor the Earth Mother Goddess are the sort to accept such a fate in silence. It's not just the Worm God—everything was already doomed from the beginning for the man as well.

'The Hundred Visits Pilgrimage. The Eternal Worm. The Divine Board Game—is that what this is?' the fox asked, narrowing her eyes. 'Honestly, you come up with such clever ideas. The depths of such a malicious system...'

T/N: The 'Hundred Visits Pilgrimage' is likely a play on 'Hyakudo Mairi,' a Japanese Shinto ritual of repeated shrine visits to fulfill a desperate wish.

'It's truly a hopeless dead end,' the snake murmured. 'A lost battle from the start. ...Are you really okay with this?'

By that code alone, it was unwinnable from the beginning. Yet after chasing long shots and stacking losses, the fox and snake voiced their concern to the demon—who boldly displayed her pointlessly elegant naked body.

...The concern wasn't even for the demon herself, nor the human-like man. It was whether she'd flip the entire board in a fit of rage.

'Hehehe!' The demon merely grinned.

With a glance at the two, the demon sat cross-legged and nude, propping her cheek up with one hand and smirking with strange serenity.

'That's exactly why!' she declared, eyes gleaming. '...Come here, you little brat!'

'!!'

Answering the call, a small shadow slowly approached. The blue demon scooped her up and set her down on the cluttered game table—scattered with pieces, papers, dice, plates, and a sake bottle. The shadow sat with a thud and babbled nonsense, grabbing and tossing items from the table, giggling madly.

'Oh dear, that's no good. You shouldn't throw things,' the fox chided, gently reaching for the child's hand.

'Don't put non-food things in your mouth...' the snake added, tongue flicking out to retrieve a dice. '...Why don't you teach her some manners? She might choke.'

The child resisted, flailing, but was gently scolded and soothed. The demon was reprimanded alongside her.

'Gulp, gulp... Kaah! It's fine!' the demon laughed. 'If you overprotect a hungry ghost, she won't grow up, right? A lion drops her cub into a ravine, you know?'

T/N: This is a reference to the old proverb: 'A lion throws her cub into a ravine to make it strong.' It implies harsh love breeds resilience.

'You don't even give her milk, and you say that?' the fox retorted.

'Hey, don't run off...' the snake said dryly. 'That's conditioning at work. You're crawling back to that toxic parent on your own.'

The demon drank her sake calmly while the fox and snake glared at her. The infant crawled toward the demon, whimpering softly, as if seeking help from her 'mother'—though no blood bound them.

'Hey, hey, stop crying,' the demon said gently. 'What a little crybaby.'

She reached out, pinching the baby's forehead as she crawled. The child stumbled, wailing, but pressed forward, only to meet the demon's outstretched fingertip.

'Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!!?'

'Come on, come on,' the demon urged playfully. 'Grow strong enough to snap this finger!'

'That's unreasonable...' the fox muttered, hiding her mouth in disbelief.

The snake rattled her throat, turning to the paper on the desk.

'The next round has started, hasn't it? Ready your claws,' she hissed.

'Yeah, yeah,' the demon replied with a shrug.

At the snake's prompt, the demon withdrew her obstructing finger, snapped off a claw, and tossed it aside. The child, seizing her chance, lunged forward and buried herself in the demon's chest, purring like a kitten.

'There's no way I'm leaving. Here, suck on this,' the demon said, pressing her blood-dripping finger to the baby's lips.

Like a calf to her mother, the infant bit down, sucked, and drank deeply. The blood was warm, rich, and satisfying.

'Well, well. This is where the plot twist begins,' the demon murmured, eyes gleaming with delight. 'How will you survive? Are you looking forward to it? My hero? ...You think so too, don't you?'

With no evidence at all, the demon laughed—completely and thoroughly entertained.

'Ah!!'

As if on cue, the infant let out a cry, releasing the demon's fingers from her mouth...

* * *

"Tokoyo Umihatan Kogi... or something like that? The third ritual that shapes this world has a peculiar feature," Tachibana Kayo said, her voice steady amidst the swirling mass of youkai and malevolent energy surrounding her.

T/N: 常世生羽誕蠱儀 (Tokoyo Umihatan Kogi) — an archaic ritual name meaning "Eternal World Living Wings Birth Caterpillar Ritual," symbolizing a mystical rite of spiritual transformation and ancient magic, reminiscent of Tsuchigumo legends where shape-shifting and curses intertwine in folklore.

In this new world of the 99th cycle, she revealed nightmarish truths, one by one, as if peeling away the veil of illusion.

"Service and offerings are the key to the Sealing Curse... like many gods, yes, but this one was especially notable," she explained. "Legend says this god—a caterpillar—was powerless, despite receiving countless offerings. No, rather, it was because of those offerings that it remained powerless. And yet, people gave everything with even greater fervor."

Kayo's eyes gleamed with a strange intensity. "The mercy that gods of the eternal world grant to their faithful is said to be a dream—a happy illusion offered to those suffering in the mortal realm. Like opium."

Reality itself frayed and tore, but souls immersed in that illusion—clinging to the happiness of a dream—worshiped the caterpillar as a god. The danger? If this fragile bond were ever severed, the worms would metamorphose.

"Using the faith of the departed as both bait and Sealing Curse, the accumulated prayers erupt into awakening as believers are lost."

She paced slowly. "By uprooting the mad zealots who serve as shields, or forcing them to abandon their faith, the tiny insects that suddenly claim dominion over the altar molt and transform into raging gods. They bring ruin. A cruel, inescapable trap."

The insect god Kamui, and its insidious brainwashing, spread like a contagious plague. But recklessly attempting to defeat it would only invite greater disaster. From the imperial court's perspective, it was a mere nuisance.

"Well, in the end, the sword of a warrior from the Sword Saint (Kensei) clan supposedly defeated it... but that's beside the point. This time, we followed their example. Do you understand what I mean?"

After a brief pause, she smiled—satisfied by the change in his expression.

"Yes! That's right! This hundredfold is a dream! The hundredfold of the bug is a repetition of the eternal dream!"

Her eyes glittered as she gazed upon the charred remains brought to the Yashiki estate. Posing as the moon goddess who commands beasts, she stirred their blood. She fed them milk, awakened them, and through her kindness, the beasts gained a fragile life—curling up to hibernate, transforming into pupae.

Within the crumbling, charred shells, they restructured their bodies—absorbing the insect's essence, devouring and ravaging, manifesting power.

The eternal insect god, without metamorphosis or birth, filled the Yashiki estate with the utopia glimpsed within the pupa. Within it, she and her followers performed the hundred-day ritual. The stage was set.

And so the dream repeated—blurring the boundaries between reality and illusion, day and night—stretching a single night into a thousand, endlessly cycling the hundred-day ritual. All sank into the corrupted dream, escaping into an infinite worship.

"But dreams eventually fade away... don't they?" Her voice softened, a genuine sorrow in her eyes. "Yes, of course I know that. It's a very sad story. Especially in this hundred-day ritual."

She rested her hand against her cheek, her lament tinged with a touch of theatricality. Then, with a mischievous blush, she revealed her red tongue.

"That's right. Tomobe-san, you didn't know the details of this hundred-day ritual, did you? Did you really think manipulating fate came without a price—even within this limited scope?"

She smiled like a blooming flower, pleased as if the prank had succeeded.

"Yes! Of course sacrifices are necessary. Human sacrifices. Lots of them. Tons of them!"

That was precisely why the hundred-day pilgrimage ritual was designated a forbidden art. One sacrifice per cycle. A hundred human sacrifices in total, sealing one destiny each time—a destiny of destruction.

"99 rounds, 99 lives. Even if you try to disrupt the ritual now, it's pointless. It's too late. You have to pay the estimate and the cancellation fee... But at least the post-payment discount is quite reasonable, isn't it?"

Her smirk turned malicious, seductive. "I'm not a sacrifice—I'm the high priestess. I'm in a different category."

"It's tough, isn't it?" she whispered, eyes narrowing. "Even if you try to control fate now or ruin the ritual, nothing will change. Everyone will pay the price. And Tomobe-san—who's lost her service—will transform into a god of the eternal world. ...Yes. I know. You don't want such a tragic fate."

Instead, the pure, innocent maiden smiled softly—and whispered of the demon (Akuma) plan.

T/N: 悪魔 (Akuma) — literally "demon" or "devil," a term often used in Japanese folklore and religion to denote a malevolent or trickster spirit. Here, it likely references a ritual invoking or symbolizing demonic power.

"The final ritual is a board game. A paper board game. A divine board game."

She cupped his cheeks with both hands, drawing him close as she spoke the essence of the ritual.

"Your fate is decided. Your end is sealed. The future metamorphosis is certain. Destruction is inevitable. That is why this ritual is valid."

Its name was Double Six Return to Starting Point Madness Ritual—a cruel game of paper double six, where even returning to the starting point could be both punishment and salvation.

T/N: The "Double Six" refers to rolling two six-sided dice, where rolling double sixes is often a rare but significant event. In this ritual's context, returning to the starting point symbolizes a cycle of despair and hope, reflecting themes common in Japanese and broader East Asian notions of fate and karmic repetition.

"...It was originally devised to kill gods."

The predetermined future was the "end," but the journey mirrored the steps of a paper sugoroku—repeated endlessly. No matter what was done, the end remained unchanged. Yet the path could be altered.

T/N: 双六 (Sugoroku) — a traditional Japanese board game similar to backgammon or snakes and ladders, where players advance by rolling dice, often symbolizing fate or destiny.

A deity bound to the world cannot be slain by a single death. Breaking its heart repeatedly, sealing it in the land once exhausted—this was a common method to subdue lower-ranked gods in Fusang. It was also the ultimate punishment for criminals.

"Isn't it ironic? The ritual used to kill gods and pass judgment is now used to create gods—and avoid sin."

Once ascended, the one you love becomes a god. The sacrifices vanish. Then, inevitably, you return to the beginning—and repeat the hundredfold ritual. If you repeat it another hundred times? Back to the start again.

Infinite, eternal, unending—the true principle of the circular eternal ring. An invitation to a land of endless pleasure and bliss. It's not corruption. It's salvation. Virtue. Merit. Tachibana Kayo asserted this with unwavering conviction.

...There was no escape. It was a dead end from the start.

"...You can't accept it, can you? Hahaha, I understand. I see it in your eyes. Yes, I understand."

Her lips curled into a slow, cruel smile.

"I will teach you thoroughly—how accepting your fate aligns with your kind heart. They will make you understand—body and soul..."

At her command, the sacrifices confined nearby gathered like ants.

* * *

It was the same as before, but even more desperate—frantic, frenzied, chaotic, overwhelming. Countless hands reached out, countless tongues sought me. Breath caressed my skin, mingling with a heavy, lustful scent that enveloped me. My head throbbed, paralyzing me.

"Hmm... Hmm... Hmm!" The sounds wavered and sharpened.

From somewhere close, Ran's harsh voice broke through the haze, carrying a heavy weight and an unsettling warmth. Before my eyes, her supple, brown body sank down to the very end. Without hesitation, she began to move as if compelled—doing what was expected, or perhaps what she desired most.

"Ahhhh! Ah! Master! Master!"

Her cries were fierce, wild, explosive. The brutal rhythm of her movements was relentless, but she gasped for breath, as if clinging to life itself. She never faltered, as if to stop would be to perish.

"Stop, please..." I whispered, desperate.

She reached out, trying to halt me—but in an instant, white hands grabbed her from every side. Lips pressed to her fingertips; her palms softened beneath their touch. Her arms were held tight, trapped in a cage of flesh—helpless.

A dull ache in my head began to fade, replaced by a strange mingling of pain and pleasure. A vision flashed: a burning sky, the dark hold of a ship, countless gazes watching.

"...?" I blinked, drawn to the woman atop me. Her hips stilled abruptly. After a moment, she tilted her head and smiled, eyes glistening with moisture.

Was she crying? But why?

"Haa... haa... haaa... my lord, ah... how pitiful you are..." she whispered, her voice thick with genuine sorrow.

She truly pitied me—sympathized with me. Both her hands caressed my cheeks with compassion. I didn't understand. Why was she looking at me like that?

No, wait. I understood. I understood everything. We were connected—memories flowing between us, exchanged through flesh and bone. Without words, without explanation, I saw her past as clearly as if it were my own.

--After returning from fishing, my village—where I was born and raised—had become a hellscape. The village was burned, disinfected by fire and gunfire. Everyone, infected or innocent, was slaughtered without mercy. I fled in a small boat, the screams and agonized writhing burned into my mind.

--Days adrift led to capture by pirates, and I endured hell in the shadowed hold of their ship. Even after they were defeated, torment continued—unknown humans sold as prime merchandise.

--Stripped bare, locked in chains, displayed like an object—examined, touched, violated—I lost all hope. No home, no family, no place to return. Only the curse of slavery kept me alive.

--Then came a haughty girl with honey-colored hair, inspecting the merchandise—that was me—and reluctantly choosing to take me away.

She found a refuge: a peaceful garden, a sanctuary to heal with peers; a temple to worship a savior.

'Can Master be here?'

'Well...'

She was embraced, buried in softness, her legs wrapped so she could not escape. Her words trembled—pleading, begging with heartbreaking clarity.

If you peer into the abyss, the abyss peers back into you. If you see into a person's memories, they see into yours. Our hearts, bound by those shared words, connected more deeply—body and soul.

"Now... uhh!?"

"Ah, ha! Master! Master! Let me comfort you! Please—please!"

Her fierce cries cut through my protest. No shame remained, no dignity—everything discarded. Considering her past, it was only natural. Yet I could not condemn her, nor push her away as if filthy.

"Really? I'm so happy. I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

Once again, she mounted me, wild and reckless. Tossing her hair, drenched in sweat, she abandoned all composure. Raw joy, trembling fear, grief, and passion overwhelmed her. I sensed the turmoil beneath—lamenting, rejoicing, serving with such intensity I pitied her. She drove a wedge deep into herself with every movement.

"Hhh! Aaaahhh!"

As she collapsed, her back arched like a shrimp, roaring more beast than human, I thought I should catch her—but the surroundings held me back.

Such things did not matter. Without words, we all understood—jealousy and expectation swirling in our hearts. I could not betray that.

"Hahaha. Next is me, right?"

Dragged forward from all sides, Meguru slipped into the empty space with a bright smile. She climbed atop me without hesitation or mercy. Slender and delicate compared to Ran, she intended to pierce through to the end, destroying herself.

"Hmph! Hii! Guh! Hii!"

Unlike the previous roughness, her torment was sticky, relentless, swirling like a whirlpool. Screaming, sobbing—never stopping—desperately clinging to her allure.

"How am I? Am I useful?" she asked coyly, tilting her head.

Immediately, scenes flooded her mind: tormented by a stepmother, disciplined and neglected by her father, sold away for a bag of gold—her life a mirror of a town girl resembling her.

"Ah, Master... we're alike, aren't we?"

"Meguru...! Guh!"

She sacrificed herself utterly, disregarding her own pain, driven only to cherish and serve. Dazed, drooling, she wore a lewd, lustful expression.

"Master, please give me a family... please let me make this yashiki a home..."

"Yashiki" (屋敷) — a traditional Japanese estate or large residence; here symbolizing the household or domain where she and others seek belonging and stability.

Her plea, tinged with childish desperation, echoed through our bond. She was painfully reminded of what this estate and her days with her fellow maids meant—a daily life saved from loneliness, filled with chores, laughter, and a fragile joy.

Toward me, she felt a desperate affection—father-like, brother-like, husband-like—a yearning to be protected by my strong, solid presence.

"!!?"

"Higii♪"

A sudden thrust revealed her deepest desire—to be shown strength. She dug her nails into my waist, seized me, and took control. She attacked violently, shaking me, but only joy shone through.

"Ah, ahah! Ahahah! Ah, ah-ah!!"

She exploded with passion, subduing me, restraining me so I could not escape. She rolled her eyes back and fainted—only to be dragged away again.

Next came the dark-haired girl with deep-set eyes.

"Kuroe..."

"Hmm, hmm... please hold me tightly♪"

Tears welled from the agony as she forced herself open, welcoming me deep inside. Her hips trembled, arms spread wide, and she smiled through the pain. Her eyes glowed red, and bat-like wings sprouted from her back. The mark branded on everyone's abdomen shone brightly on her, doubled.

As if led by instinct, she raised her body, embraced me, and did the same as the others. Clutching the horns that had grown from her head like supports, a sweet voice whispered in my ear:

"Master, I love you! I adore you! Please take me, dominate me, satisfy me! Fill me up! Ah, I love you!"

A storm of desire raged, and scenes flashed through her mind. As a half-demon, she had always hungered, despised and shunned—but raised under the church's chastity teachings until bloodlust awoke. She had fled from a carriage to prison, still wearing her chastity belt. The starving bandits who captured her sensed the danger and sold her to slave traders immediately. She understood everything—because she was made to understand.

"Amazing! Ihi, no way, this... I—Ihi, I lost... uu...!?"

That declaration of defeat was soaked not in despair, but in pure, overflowing joy. She understood the teachings now. She understood her own greed. She could not forgive anyone who drowned in lust and died upon her stomach. Meeting the one destined to bring her down—it felt like fate itself. It was joy. She was certain her final destination, her final home, her final master had appeared.

"Come, Master! Come! Please, come! Break me! Crush me! Come! Come! Come, come, come, come!!!!!!?"

Pressed close in their embrace, the words whispered in my ear became increasingly indistinct, swallowed by heat nearly bursting its bounds. A cascade of nails, a moment on the edge—the moment of collapse, rupture, explosion—hovered too close to ignore.

"Iiiii!"

She fought bravely this time, more than before, but the outcome was still inevitable. A foolish cry of joy slipped from her lips. Crushed in an embrace, completely fulfilled and submissive, the half-demon girl collapsed. Without hesitation, another took her place.

Face to face, mounted, crossed, pinned down—her hips thrust out, held tight, flipped upside down, lifted, suspended—countless positions unfolded, shaped by desires, emotions, and habits. Each found their perfect posture, their ideal way. Ah, now it all made sense.

It was not simply the Earth Mother's influence. That force was one-sided—dyeing, covering, invading the other. This was different. It was reciprocal. Synergistic. Interdependent.

"Did you notice? Hehehe, I had the Juuyaku people mix it for me. It contains everyone's spinal fluid... perhaps it could be called a symphonic drug? Since it's layered multiple times, the effect should be stronger than usual, right?"

Amid laughter, a child's voice echoed from somewhere, speaking softly of pleasure and memories consumed by Yang Energy.

Sympathetic medicine. Extracted from the brain's fluid, it connects the consumer directly to the source. It infuses emotions, senses, memories—syncing consumer and origin.

Among the many medicines I received from Kaya, this sympathetic medicine was mixed in. I had consumed the spinal fluid of everyone at the Yashiki Estate, one by one, multiple times. Through many cycles, it had woven deeply into causality. Likely, everyone else was bound by it as well...

"Ah, don't worry. I didn't take any from Tomobe-san's spinal fluid... The catalyst was already there."

She rolled something around in her mouth and whispered this in my ear. I didn't grasp the meaning, but such consideration was irrelevant.

Even as we spoke, the women's memories, emotions, and pleasures flooded my mind. My own memories, emotions, and pleasures poured back to them. The cycle repeated—the environment, the circle, the loop. Everything multiplied infinitely, harmonizing, amplifying without limit. Above it all, a torrent of information surged—too much for my brain to separate and grasp each piece individually. Yet by connecting deeply, I could finally comprehend each one.

I saw Shino, surrounded by village girls drawn to her beauty, fleeing as men sought to capture her.

I saw Tatsu, witnessing her mother—a wandering shrine maiden—offered as a human sacrifice in a remote land steeped in cruel customs.

I saw Yuu, escaping a burning castle, losing her family, left speechless in despair.

Sold. Bought. Beaten. Bullied. Locked up. Blamed. Deceived. Stalked. Cursed. Raped. Robbed. Killed. Separated. Broken. Degraded. Chased away. Tied up. Bound.

At the Yashiki estate, their days were carefree, playful, lustful, affectionate, terrifying, persistent. Their pasts, their memories, their despair—all flowed in an endless torrent. The emotions of that time were vivid, clear, distinct. Like an eternal hell

...In a way, these scenes were all too common. The eternal world is harsh. Filled with resentment, bitterness, suffering. Yet just because torment is routine does not mean its victims fully accept it, nor can they endure it simply by accepting. They grow weary, disillusioned—but cannot renounce the world, nor muster the courage to end their own lives. Being kept alive like a corpse—an empty shell—is no rarity.

The worms of the eternal world. The dreams of the eternal world. That is why they seek salvation. They seek someone to save them. Even if the salvation is counterfeit, even if it strays from the path, it matters not. If it offers escape from this overwhelming passion, from this unbearable moment, they care not what happens next. They want only to sink into pleasure and comfort, to think of nothing else... Such thoughts avalanche, and I sympathize with them. I cannot deny them. I cannot deny such desperation.

Because I understand suffering all too well.

"Master..."

"...!!"

How many people? How many times? How many rounds? How many days? When I realized it, a girl crouched pitifully before me, buttocks thrust out. I climbed atop her, grabbed her head, and forced it into the pillow. Only then did I recognize my own actions—screaming and berating her. It was like waking from a dream. Yet it was only a dream within a dream.

"Kuh!? Kuh♪ Kah!!♪"

Like a beast, treating another like an object—yet the euphoria overwhelming her mind belonged unmistakably to the woman being humiliated before my eyes. There was no doubt: she was in a state of happiness. Even treated worse than a nightingale, worse than a servant, less than human—she seemed satisfied.

"Hmm, ah. Ah. More, more... please? Please give me more, more happiness."

"Guh!!"

Almost reflexively, I granted her wish—choking her neck as she desired, reaching behind to massage and grope, tormenting her until she gasped at her limit. As I gently stroked her head to soothe the trembling girl, she fainted immediately and was pulled away by the others. The next came forward, flushed with anticipation, exposing herself to be ravaged by me. Her eyes glistened as she shyly spread her mature body.

"...!!"

Desire clear without words, intention clearer than speech—I responded by pouncing. A scream of joy erupted, quickly softening to a sweet moan.

As I ruthlessly defiled her delicate body and dignity, my gaze drifted to the room's corner, where the woman who had just finished was being dragged away. A heap of discarded women loomed at the edge of my vision.

Exhausted, limp, covered in filth, marked from head to toe, comforting each other, stroking swollen bellies, intoxicated by post-coital bliss. The more aware I became, the more their emotions flooded me directly. A sense of liberation from all troubles and worries, as if they had attained enlightenment. Despite succumbing to their desires and vices, it felt as if they had performed a virtuous deed—as if saved by the Bodhisattva of Compassion.

...Thinking so, the body continues to degrade them.

"...! ...! ...!! ...!!!?"

Roaring. Shouting. Screaming. Though I had reclaimed a sliver of reason, my sense of time slipped away again. Without food or drink, how long had I been trapped in this endless act? By the midpoint, I had lost count of sunrises and sunsets.

I felt like a lustful youkai—a demon. Terribly ugly. I could not control myself. No, they never gave me a moment to stop. It was truly clever.

Above all, the reason I couldn't stop the debauchery was the euphoria—Fuumi—the purest kind of euphoria. I felt everyone's happiness; their joy flowed into me like a current. In that moment, I couldn't see myself as committing evil.

I knew their suffering. I understood their salvation. I felt their present emotions. And so, I could not stop. For their sake... They knew my excuses, and I understood their deep yearning to accept my shallow consciousness, to devote themselves wholly, body and soul.

Even the ugly, filthy desires of the male were enfolded within that bliss. Thinking of everyone immersed in happiness through service, I lost all self-control. Pretending, lying, self-restraint—they all felt like the very essence of evil.

So perhaps sinking into their embrace was the only path worth taking.

'Oh? Do you really believe that?'

Amid the chorus of panting cries, a voice of reason cut through—too clear, too unmistakable. Like a flawless blue sky, it reminded me of warm, gentle sunlight. In the hot, cold sea of flesh, I was embraced from behind—the illusion of a sunlit sanctuary. The feeling of a mother's arms holding me.

"...Ta...maki?"

With reason returning, I finally recognized the woman leaning over me, her face close, peering down from my lap. She wore a defiant smile. Seeing her, I couldn't help but whisper her name. She smiled wider, examining me, the corners of her mouth twitching with amused interest.

'Whose name was that? That's no good—judging by appearances again. No wonder you're so easily fooled by childish tricks like these. You're swept up in a half-baked dream. You're just a creature of the eternal world, aren't you?'

Tamaki chuckled—a sound like an adult shrugging off a child's mistake, like a seasoned mentor admonishing a novice.

...Isn't she right? This connection is flesh and blood at its core—empathy through the brain, an illusion conjured by neurons. Ultimately, a shared dream, nothing more than a response through solid matter. Am I wrong?

'Flesh is a cage. Flesh is a vessel—a prison, nothing more.'

Therefore, it can never compare to the fusion of souls. You should understand that. Twice over, three times over. Too well, in fact. After all...

'Whoa, whoa—that's dangerous. I got carried away.'

"...!?"

Suddenly, I snapped back to reality, stunned and speechless. I realized how completely I'd been consumed. What had been done to me?

'Hmm, hmm... Such a fate is possible. Interesting, isn't it? No wonder she's so fascinated.'

"What!?"

Still resting her head on my lap, Tamaki nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes in thoughtful agreement. I grabbed her face and pushed her away. Then, I shoved aside the other women surrounding us. Shio, who had been dancing wildly on my lap in ecstasy, fell to the floor with a satisfying thud and stayed there.

"What... what the hell is going on!?"

I jumped up, scanning frantically for Tamaki. I pushed through the sea of flesh, searching. I didn't care if I stumbled or accidentally struck someone; I had no luxury for caution.

Strange. She was nowhere to be found.

"Master?"

"Please calm down. What's wrong?"

"Is someone feeling unwell?"

"Don't get so worked up and upset everyone... mmm♪"

I froze, realizing I had regained my senses after being swallowed whole, dissolved, utterly immersed. I understood their desperate efforts to serve me, entertain me, worship me. They sought to pull me back once again. Their passion poured directly into my brain, as if I could scoop it up in my hands...

"Noisy!"

The noise echoed in my mind, accompanied by loud, foolish shouting. A naked man barked orders arrogantly, but everyone in the room obeyed silently. Even their hearts were still.

"Ha... ha... ha..."

I shook my shoulders, trying to steady my ragged breath. Took a deep breath. No—wait—that was absurd. Was I really breathing oxygen...?

"...Right."

Suddenly, I understood everything. I saw clearly. Ah, so that's how it was.

"Step aside."

At my command, the crowd parted like the sea splitting open. Beyond them stood a door—one that hadn't been there moments before. The door I had wished for. The exit that would end this endless cycle.

T/N: The sudden appearance of the door symbolizes a breakthrough or awakening—an escape from the cyclical entrapment in this dreamlike, euphoric haze.

...If this is the dream I'm weaving, then it makes sense that it would be possible.

"..."

Without realizing it, I was dressed in a servant's outfit. I adjusted my mask and began walking swiftly toward the door. No one spoke. No one resisted. They endured—endured fear and despair. Accepted their defeat and loss, clinging to each other, seeking comfort in shared sorrow.

"...Don't worry," I said.

But words alone meant nothing. Understanding their hearts counted for nothing without action. It was the same as Natsu's goal during her break—empty without a guarantee.

...It's okay. There is a guarantee. Not a pleasant one, but it exists.

"Master..."

"I'm sorry."

Those simple words carried a complex weight—both remorse and gratitude. Not for everyone, of course. No need to shine them like jewels now. Still, it was a relief not to have to explain at length in a moment like this.

"...I believe in you."

"...For now, farewell."

I don't know whose voice spoke them. I simply responded, and then stepped through the door into an unknown future. The sensation of falling swallowed me. Complete darkness followed. And then...

* * *

'Welcome, cute boy♪... So, you've got everything figured out and now you're asking me for help, right?'

"Yeah... I've prepared some materials to convince you."

Beyond the door lay the end of the cycle. The moment between cycles. As an observer of the ritual and a listener to wishes, I faced that entity in the fleeting instant when even time itself seemed uncertain—an inner world where reality folded away, contained within the transaction. Here, I had to plead for the appropriate wish.

T/N: "The cycle" refers to a recurring ritual or event, possibly a metaphysical or spiritual loop, whose exact nature remains ambiguous but crucial to the narrative's framework.

'But do you really think I'll accept it?' the entity teased, propping its cheek as if leaning on me like a lump of flesh, eyes narrowing to test me.

"...You accept it. That's why we can talk like this, isn't it?"

Refusal meant rejecting contact, forcing the next—and final—cycle to begin. But you don't do that. You allow the meeting. So... was this somehow different?

'I don't see everything either, you know,' the pillar murmured, the expression on its face sour as it recalled the deity who had interrupted earlier. 'Especially when other gods—or you—are involved.'

T/N: "The pillar" here is a metaphor or title for a certain entity or role, possibly a guardian or observer connected to the ritual.

The evil god's fragment—the terminal—demanded, with a strange kindness beneath its arrogance, a promise sealed in words.

T/N: "Evil God" (Jashin) literally means "evil god" or "wicked deity," often used to denote a malevolent or chaotic divine being.

"Alright. I understand. I'll make the oath."

Snorting, I yielded. I accepted the monster's demand, knowing that without its help, nothing would move, nothing would change. At the same time, I knew that if I agreed, it would aid me in this desperate moment.

'Alright! Shall we make the promise?'

"Alright... Ah, wait. Before that, can I ask for one more thing? Something separate from the oath?"

'...?'

Sensing my hesitation, the creature claiming to be my mother offered a white little finger with a cheerful, satisfied smile. Despite the mood and flow, despite it being unrelated to the oath, I prioritized the request above all else.

"Well... technically, I'm the main character of this dream world. It's not exactly a glittering realm, so... could I at least wear a loincloth?"

Having been stripped naked without mercy after donning the clothes, I made that plea to the divine being, my tone rough around the edges but sincere.

Kayo-chan in western clothes => <a href="https://www.pixiv.net/artworks/132709905" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">here</a>

Notes:

• Ran - Seductive southern-born maid with wheat-colored skin and a beauty mark near her lips. Confident, teasing, and warm—mixes mature affection with sultry playfulness.

• Meguru - A maid who cleans the Master's mouth; calm and attentive.

• Kuroe - A sulky maid who calls for breakfast; gets emotional when left out. Appear on the beginning of loops.

• Shino - A maid who twists around Master's left arm, biting and licking his fingers in affection. Her devoted service feels maddeningly abnormal to Master.

• Tatsu - A maid from a family of wandering shrine maidens. She serves Master in the bathhouse, dressed only in a thin cloth. Her sweet and caring demeanor contrasts with Master's growing unease.

• Yuu - Loud, inseparable girl who loves causing trouble. Teams up with Rin to pull pranks and dominate games.

• Fuumi - One of the playful twin girls; energetic and sweet. Often paired with Shii in mischievous antics, she's reflective and emotionally tuned in, sharing a deep concern for their mother, Amatsuru.

• Natsu - Southern maid who wears minimal clothing like underwear or swimsuits. Her attire reflects the norms of her homeland.