"Hurry up, stop stalling!"
Hayashi saw that the woman—now renamed Selene—hadn't moved.
His little brother was still waiting, and time was running out. He couldn't afford to let her hesitate any longer.
I've already given up on myself.
Selene, who was only focused on protecting herself from being shattered by Hayashi, shot him a venomous glare.
She inhaled deeply, struggling to keep her voice steady.
Yet, even so, her tone dripped with unmistakable disdain:
"How could my subconscious conjure up a perverted, shameless bastard like you!"
Hayashi had no intention of correcting her assumption that he was just a figment of her imagination.
Because he found it hilariously entertaining.
Wasn't this just another form of roleplay?
Besides, it made her less resistant to him.
Though Hayashi wasn't a psychologist, he understood Selene's mindset well enough.
The reason she obeyed him so readily wasn't just because of his threats—
It was also because she believed he was part of her own mind.
That made the shameful acts easier to stomach.
"Enough talking. Get to work!" he snapped.
"You're sitting on my lap. How the hell am I supposed to move like this?"
Only then did Hayashi realize he was still perched on her thighs.
A flicker of embarrassment crossed his mind, but his face remained impassive.
He stood abruptly and settled onto the edge of the bed instead.
Selene's heart hammered against her ribs, threatening to burst free.
She fought to suppress the storm inside her—resentment, fury, terror, defiance… and that traitorous flicker of excitement.
With another steadying breath, she rose from the bed, forcing herself to stand before him.
Their eyes locked in a silent battle.
"Why are you just staring? Do something!"
"You've tied my hands. How, exactly?"
Hayashi blinked.
Right.
In his eagerness, he'd forgotten.
But before untying her, he issued a warning:
"One wrong move, and I won't hold back. Understood?"
Selene clenched her bound fists, teeth grinding.
This bastard talks like I'm the one who wronged him!
Typical of my subconscious—twisted, just like me.
The ropes fell away, slithering to the floor.
She flexed her wrists, the urge to strike or flee simmering beneath her skin.
But she remembered his threat.
"Quit stalling! Do you need an hour to move your hands?"
His taunt sent fresh anger surging through her.
But after everything that had happened, her tolerance had grown.
She swallowed the rage and reluctantly lowered herself into a crouch.
"Crouching? You'll collapse in seconds."
"Dream or not, the sensations are real. Kneel."
Hayashi smirked, watching her awkward posture.
"Hah… Hah…"
Selene didn't obey immediately.
She stayed there, head bowed, breath ragged.
Hayashi feigned indifference.
"Or would you rather relive last night?"
The memory of that agony—the feeling of being split apart—flashed through her mind.
The terror of violation.
Her body tensed.
Pride shattered.
With a quiet surrender, she knelt.
Selene—granddaughter of legends, princess of a noble clan, master healer—now knelt before a stranger for the first time.
The torn fabric of her pants left her round, pale curves exposed, the delicate pink bud just barely hidden.
Hayashi's chest swelled with triumph.
His already hardened length throbbed in response.
But he tore his gaze away.
Not yet.
Soon, I'll claim all of her.
Selene's lashes fluttered, her inner turmoil laid bare.
With trembling fingers, she reached for him.
The moment her hand brushed against his heat, her skin prickled.
Her pulse roared.
Her body betrayed her, growing slick with anticipation.
Disgusting. Pathetic.
Yet she couldn't stop.
She yanked his pants down, revealing black briefs.
The musky scent hit her—unpleasant, yet intoxicating.
Her thighs clenched.
Hayashi watched her face—humiliation, fury, and reluctant arousal twisting her features.
The sight alone nearly pushed him over the edge.
"Well? Impressed?"
"Shut your mouth!"
Defiance flared, but her fingers curled around him anyway.
The moment she gripped him, her breath hitched.
Her heart threatened to explode.
Her core ached.
Legs pressed tight, she rubbed them together unconsciously.
Time blurred.
Another shaky breath.
Then—slowly, reluctantly—her hand began to move.
With each stroke, her full, uncovered breasts swayed enticingly.
Hayashi didn't just watch.
He leaned forward, seizing them in his hands.
Warm. Silken. Perfectly pliant.
Even better than I imagined.
Last night, he'd been too frantic to savor them.
Now, he took his time.
Selene stiffened but didn't protest.
She just kept working him, jaw clenched.
Hayashi grinned.
She's already broken.
If she could service him without complaint, why would groping her be any different?
He squeezed roughly, molding her flesh.
Selene's breath hitched.
A soft, involuntary moan escaped her.
Her legs weakened.
Hearing herself, she flushed crimson.