Chapter 130 (Fixed)
Ray leaned against the alley wall, chest still heaving while he tried to lock his breathing back down. Milady was next to him, laughing under her breath, wiping the corner of her eye like she’d laughed too hard to keep it cute.
"Swear to God," she said, "your face when you ran was ugly as hell."
Then it dropped. The smile vanished in a blink. That sharp, cold look slid back on like a switch got flipped. A headache seemed to punch through her skull for a second, and the cocky dominant version of her shoved its way to the front again.
Ray stared at her. One minute they were laughing like actual friends. Next minute she was that same annoying stranger.
"Your other personality almost came out again, huh?"
THUD.
Her boot smashed into his shin before the sentence even finished.
"Fuck! That hurts!"
"Shut up." Milady looked at him like he was a bug. "Don’t bring that up again if you still wanna breathe."
Ray sucked in a long breath and let it go. He got it. She had to stay mean. Stay nasty. That was the only thing keeping the more dangerous version of her from taking the body.
They walked back to her place in silence. The awkwardness sat on the whole street. Ray stayed behind her, eyes on her back, brain drifting where it shouldn’t.
When can I use this system on myself? If I could rewrite my own head, maybe my life wouldn’t be this messy.
Milady stopped. Glanced back. Laughed like she’d been waiting for that thought.
"You wanna use your power on yourself just to stop jerking off? That’s a sad little life."
Ray’s face went hot. "Why is that always your material? You got nothing else?"
"Your thoughts are just that cheap," she said, and kept walking.
By the time they hit her house, the sky was already turning orange-purple. Ray dropped onto the living room sofa and immediately started rotting. After the park, his brain had nothing to chew on. He kept sighing, switching positions, looking like he couldn’t sit still if somebody paid him.
Milady watched him from the dining table like he was a stain.
"You look like a kid who lost his toy. Manchild with too much cheap dopamine. That’s why you can’t shut up unless something hits you instantly."
"Shut up. You’re the crazy weeb who snatched a guy and locked him in a big-ass house."
Milady stopped. Turned. One eyebrow up.
"Snatched? You think I kidnapped you?" Her voice went cold enough to cut. "You wanna leave? Leave. Nobody’s holding you."
That one landed. Ray felt it. If he walked out now, no cover, no answers, no system clarity, he wasn’t free. He was just a confused missing person with a target on his back.
He dragged a hand down his face. "Okay. Sorry. Tch."
Pride still in it. But he knew he’d overplayed.
Milady snorted and headed upstairs. "Stay on the sofa. Don’t touch my stuff."
A few minutes later she came back down with a thick roll of paper and dropped it in his lap.
Ray frowned. "What’s this?"
"Your influencer plan."
He sat up. "My what?"
"You’re horny, right?" she snapped. "There’s girls out there worse than you and easier to move. I’m gonna make you famous. And while you’re famous, you’re gonna hit my targets with that system."
Ray stood and tossed the paper on the table. "No. I’m not doing that. I’m not some late-game hero cleaning society’s trash. You want those people handled, use your own system. Why do I have to be the tool?"
The room froze.
Milady moved first. Fast. Her fingers caught the back of his hair and yanked his head up until he was stuck in her eyes.
"I can’t," she hissed, breath short. "Reading your mind already makes the other one try to crawl out. You think I can run full control? My body would break."
Ray clenched through the sting in his scalp. Then the older memory clicked.
"Then what did you use at the start? When you hit me with that headache that almost dropped me."
She let go rough enough to make him jerk.
"The system. Obviously." She turned her face away for a second. A faint color sat on her cheek before she looked back, all provocation. "Besides, you already got what you wanted from my body back then. I’d used the system too much, and then that stupid empathy hit, and I almost lost the wheel."
Ray watched her. Then he laughed under his breath. The guilt trip bounced right off.
"Guilt trip ain’t work on me, Milady." He stepped in closer. "But fine. Let’s run the plan."
He caught her waist, pulled her in, and kissed her deep. Her eyes went wide for a second. Ray didn’t care.
If this world was a messed-up game of systems, manipulation, and cracked personalities, he was done sitting in it like a pawn. He was going to play.
Milady kissed him back hard.
Not sloppy. Not lost. Aggressive on purpose. Her mouth took the lead like she was correcting him mid-play, teeth catching his lip just enough to make it a warning. This wasn’t like last time, when Prilly had the wheel and the body moved like it wanted to drown in him. This was Milady. Present. Sharp. In charge.
She broke the kiss just long enough to look at him, breath hot against his mouth.
"Don’t get it twisted," she muttered. "Last time wasn’t me running the room. This time it is."
Ray barely got a word out before she shoved him back onto the sofa. She climbed on, no hesitation, knees bracketing his hips, one hand already in his hair. She yanked his head back and leaned down until her mouth was at his ear.
"Matriarch runs this. Not you. Don’t sit there thinking a kiss made you the man of the house."
Her grip tightened.
"I’ll give you this special turn. That’s it. A ration. Not a romance." Her voice stayed low, mean, almost calm. "But don’t you dare expect me to be some sweet quiet girl while you fuck. I won’t lie there looking pretty and polite. I talk. I take. I don’t perform softness for you."
Ray’s hands found her waist on instinct. She didn’t stop him. She just pulled his hair again, forcing his eyes up to hers.
"You want in on the plan, you take it like this," she whispered. "You don’t get the version of me that melts. You get me. And I don’t go quiet."
Ray let out a short breath and actually smiled, lazy on purpose.
"What a weeb," he said. "Matriarch? That’s so cool. Sounds like a professional weeb running a guild."
Milady’s eyes narrowed. Then her knee pressed down, firm, right against his cock through his pants. Not enough to wreck him. Enough to make the joke cost something.
"That little worm wants to play for a bit, huh?"
Ray swallowed. His hips almost moved before he locked them down.
"Yeah," he said. "I guess."
Milady didn’t look impressed. She looked interested, which was worse. She shifted on him, still holding his hair with one hand, and dragged the side of her boot along his thigh like she was testing the idea out loud.
"Footjob," she said, flat. "That’s the offer."
Ray’s throat worked. He hated that it landed. Hated that his body answered before his pride did.
Milady saw it anyway. She always did. The mockery stayed on her mouth, but there was something greedy under it now, like she wasn’t just baiting him. She wanted the scene. Wanted him under her shoe, wanted the control sitting pretty in her lap.
She leaned in, lips near his ear again.
"Yes or no?" A small, mean pause. "Chance for my favorite dog."
Ray swallowed, stuck in that ugly pause where his brain and his body weren’t on the same page. Milady’s face wasn’t locked down anymore. The cold act was still there, but it was slipping. She looked like she wanted it more than she was supposed to, eyes too focused, mouth too impatient.
"Hmm..." Ray tried to dodge. "Maybe we talk the plan first."
Milady’s knee pressed in again, slow and mean.
"Your cock has to calm down first," she said. "You wanna sit here making strategy with that thing twitching? Cute."
That did it. The temptation climbed right up his spine. He kept seeing it whether he wanted to or not: that short sadistic girl working him with her feet, no rush, no kindness, just pressure and control. He wanted the feel of it. That was the part that pissed him off.
He opened his mouth.
Milady was already standing.
She looked down at him like the offer had an expiration date.
"Okay. So you don’t want it."
"Wait. Okay, okay." Ray sat forward too fast, pride scrambling for a landing. "New experience. Fine. Let’s just... try it."
He told himself that was all it was. Curiosity. Research. A stupid one-time thing. Anything except the truth sitting hot in his stomach: he wanted to know how it felt, and his ego was doing backflips to pretend he wasn’t that easy.