Ashley returned upstairs and sat down, her small hand pressing against her abdomen where a faint sense of swelling emanated from within.
Claire awoke from her coma.
She found herself in a state of sleep paralysis, her mind crystal clear but unable even to twitch a single finger, her eyelids refusing to open.
What happened to me…
Move, damn it…
No matter how she urged herself or strained, her body remained like a rusted machine, utterly immobile.
Panic surged through Claire. This situation was far more terrifying than being locked in a dark room. At least there, she could move her limbs, bite her nails, or scratch her scalp to ease her anxiety. But here, with her senses stripped away, she had no idea how to endure the endless, suffocating silence. She felt herself on the verge of madness, watching her own mind fracture with perfect clarity.
At that moment, a voice echoed in her mind…
Upon realizing she could communicate telepathically with Ashley, the girl clung to it like a drowning person grasping a piece of driftwood, her thoughts wrapping around it like an octopus’s tentacles.
She rambled incoherently, venting a torrent of nonsensical words before gasping desperately and breaking into sobs.
Though she had no tear glands, her brain’s command to cry made her feel as if she were weeping.
Once her emotions settled, Ashley explained the situation in detail:
“I inserted a ‘Death Slumber Nymph’ into your damaged body. It secretes pheromones that put most of your cells into dormancy. If recovered in time, it can be repaired. Even if something goes wrong, your brain and heart are intact, so we could transplant them into a suitable donor body of similar age.”
In this world, biotech was highly advanced; flesh editing was mere child’s play.
The criteria for death were brain and heart death. As long as those organs were preserved, reconstructing the body was straightforward.
“I can recover?! That’s amazing! Thank you for saving me! I’m sorry, so sorry. I tried to eat your bento before and badmouthed you. I’m truly sorry—I apologize…” Claire was overwhelmed with gratitude and didn’t hide her past mistakes, apologizing profusely.
“Mm… that said, do you remember the promise you made? Once saved, you’d be my dog.” Ashley recalled the deal.
“Eh…”
A wave of shame flooded the girl’s heart. Dogs were cute, and if she had a crush on someone, becoming their pet wouldn’t be a big deal psychologically.
But serving as a big dog for a girl younger than herself? It was honestly hard to swallow—her pride would shatter.
Even so, she had to honor her word!
Claire didn’t dodge it. She understood that from the moment of her salvation, her life no longer belonged to her.
One could live slyly, but guilt would always linger.
“Woof woof, I’m your dog.” Wuu wuu… I ended up as a dog for a girl younger than me…
Sorrow filled Claire’s heart. Amid extreme humiliation, she struggled to accept and adapt to her new role. Should she be a steadfast, clever guard dog or a comical, cute dimwit? Proactive in serving her master, or passively toyed with? It was agonizing—how best to please her tiny loli owner…
“Eh? I was just kidding. Don’t take it seriously.”
Ashley had no habit of adopting strays; it was just her habit of mouthing off.
“You’re joking at a time like this?! Hey! I was seriously thinking about it!” The girl felt utterly wronged, her resolve and inner turmoil reduced to a clown’s farce. Shame overwhelmed her, and she burst into tears. “Wuu wuu… you’re bullying me…”
“Alright, alright,” Ashley soothed. “It was a life-or-death moment for you, but even if you died, I wouldn’t grieve or shed a tear. So don’t take it to heart.”
“Wuu… that’s too much…”
“No more chatting. Rest up.”
Ashley severed the mental link, but soon Claire’s anxiety flared again.
“Hey, hey, are you there? Talk to me? It’s so scary. I’m going insane. I feel nothing, total darkness, pure agony…”
Though only minutes had passed, it felt like years to Claire. In her prolonged torment, her sense of self peeled away piece by piece, fluttering off like butterflies. It was as if she attended her own funeral, sobbing her heart out as her soul ascended to the sky.
“Oof, don’t go berserk in my belly!” Ashley was speechless.
“Wuu wuu… wuu wuu…”
“But I can’t let you control my body… Just focus on feeling your own existence, okay?”
“Is there a way? Super invincible cute Ashley-chan, please help! I’m the girl who almost became your beloved pet!” Claire abandoned all restraint, fawning desperately.
“Ah, I got it. Active won’t work, so passive it is,” Ashley said, struck by inspiration.
“Passive?”
“There are two ways to sense your existence. One is actively moving your limbs—singing, dancing, rapping. The other is being touched and soothed. Through stroking, you outline your body’s shape in your mind… Like how the back has no presence normally, but during an oil massage, you feel it intensely.”
“Stroking… stroking…”
Claire’s voice trembled. She had zero experience with such intimacy; just imagining it made her scalp tingle with extreme fear of contact.
“I’ll simulate touch via neural signals. Of course, if you have other ideas, suggest them. You have five minutes to think…”
“I want it!”
Claire decided in a second. Absolute darkness and isolation were too horrifying; she needed to escape immediately.
…
In the haze of her chaotic thoughts, a small hand formed from neural signals gently brushed over her, gradually outlining the girl’s lithe figure—graceful curves, supple waist.
“I feel it… finally… wuu wuu… my hands… my legs… they’re back…”
Claire broke down in sobs, and once exhausted from crying, she began to savor the sensation.
Lingering, tender touches trailed in the wake of the palm; she savored them, immersed.
After a while, she shyly asked:
“Why only hands and feet… What about other places… I… I want to feel everything…”
“Hey, don’t get needy. That’s gross.”
“Wuu wuu… please…”
Ashley relented helplessly, tending to certain areas with delicate, repeated strokes.
With a sharp gasp like a sob, Claire’s mind blanked. Something surged violently within, erasing the hard-won outline.
“This girl… finally settled down…”
Sensing Claire’s peaceful slumber, Ashley judged the timing right and headed downstairs.
Sidney’s corpse lay in the octagonal gazebo in the villa’s back garden.
The gazebo was assembled from large glass panels; from outside, one could see the cloth-draped body and the woman kneeling on the ground, sobbing.
The family elites were focused on guarding the basement entrance, treating it like a warzone, leaving this spot deserted.
Ashley pushed open the door, a casually plucked rose in hand, like a mourner paying respects.
Criminals did return to crime scenes for a reason; Ashley felt that mysterious pull of gravity.
She placed the flower on Sidney’s chest, then lifted his right arm. With a small knife, she sliced through skin and muscle, digging in her fingers to pinch and extract a slender tentacle.
The Touch of Will.
The wailing woman froze for seconds before reacting, pointing at the Blue-Haired Loli in shock. “You’re the killer…”
“Shut up, you sow!”
Snap!
A whip shadow flashed, and the woman rolled on the ground, squealing like a pig.
Ashley glanced over. Those with weak wills needed no second lash.
She tugged the whip taut, producing a humming vibration, then coiled it around her waist.
Humming a tune, she grabbed a fistful of her blue hair, sliced it off with the knife, and chewed it like a cow eating grass before swallowing.
The Boothslot Family’s matriarch huddled in the corner, trembling at the Blue-Haired Loli’s mad, deranged display.
Ashley shaved her head nearly bald, stuffing it all into her mouth and down her throat.
“Meat Baby,” activate!
Her back arched, small hands curled to her chest like a cat hacking up a hairball, vomiting a massive clump of blue fur!
Minutes later, servants raced to the basement entrance, reporting to Gysin:
“Second Young Master! Ashley’s escaped!”
Gysin’s face twisted dramatically. He bolted out the door and spotted a petite figure with striking blue hair sprinting toward the Breeding Farm!
