Chapter 70: An Unexpected Outcome and a Mental Imprint
William tore away the tape binding Theresa's hands and feet, then deliberately stepped back.
He studied her with the detached precision of a researcher conducting an experiment.
If Theresa chose to run, the experiment had failed—
the Obedience Whip would be nothing more than a tool for temporary control.
But if she chose submission, then this whip would prove invaluable in the future.
Yet things did not unfold as William had anticipated.
Theresa neither fled nor sat obediently in place.
Instead, like a maddened lioness, she suddenly lunged at William.
By sheer strength alone, ten Theresas wouldn't have been enough to overpower him.
But to accurately assess her condition, William deliberately suppressed his abilities, presenting himself as an ordinary man.
She tackled him onto the bed.
One of Theresa's hands clamped around William's throat.
With the other, she snatched up the glass ashtray from the bedside table and raised it high above her head.
Her expression was vicious—
it looked as though she intended to smash the ashtray down and knock him unconscious.
Judging from her actions in Happy Death Day, Theresa was never someone lacking in initiative.
The fact that she confronted a masked killer head-on in the film proved she wasn't some helpless lamb.
And yet—
The ashtray remained suspended in midair.
It refused to come down.
William felt no fear.
Instead, he calmly observed Theresa's face.
If he had to describe it in one word, it was conflict—
hesitation, confusion, and anxiety all tangled together.
She wanted to strike…
but couldn't.
It was as if two voices inside her were locked in a relentless struggle.
"You…" Theresa stared at William's face, calm and almost sculptural.
The internal conflict threatened to tear her mind apart.
"Do you hate me?" William asked quietly, as though the question had nothing to do with him.
At those words, Theresa's arm slowly lowered.
The ashtray slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor.
Her grip on William's throat loosened as well, and she collapsed beside him, limp and exhausted.
William sat up and continued observing her.
"What are you thinking right now?"
Theresa let out a short, hollow laugh—tinged with self-mockery.
"I don't know," she said. "I think… something might be wrong with me."
"What kind of problem?" William pressed.
Whether it was lingering influence from the Obedience Whip,
or a genuine psychological shift, even he couldn't be sure.
"Fuck! Stop asking!" Theresa snapped. "I don't want to talk about it!"
At that moment, she felt like someone who had just discovered—on day one—that she was fundamentally different.
Unfamiliar. Disconcerting.
She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
This outcome had genuinely exceeded William's expectations.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
At the very least, Theresa no longer harbored overt hostility toward him.
Or rather—
whenever hostility arose, it was forcibly suppressed, though her personal will still remained intact.
Of course, this was only a single data point.
Drawing conclusions from one sample would be scientifically unsound.
He would need more comparative trials.
Just then—
🎵 "Hey~ it's my birthday~" 🎵
Theresa's phone rang, breaking the silence at the worst possible moment.
Their gazes met instantly.
William didn't move.
With his current reaction speed, he could stop her the instant she tried to answer.
Unexpectedly, Theresa merely glanced at William, then went back to staring lifelessly at the ceiling, completely ignoring her phone.
Earlier, when Mandy had tied her up, Theresa's phone had been placed on the table.
William stood up and checked it.
It was a call from Theresa's father.
"It's your dad," William said. "You're not going to answer?"
Theresa lay there like a corpse, not even bothering to move a finger.
"Don't bother. I've got nothing to say to him."
Seeing her put on a front of indifference, William shook his head slightly.
If Theresa's relationship with her father were even marginally better—if they weren't practically estranged—then missing this call might have made him realize something was wrong.
But given how things stood now, her father would most likely assume she was just throwing another tantrum and deliberately ignoring him.
Which was why, sometimes, keeping ties with family still mattered.
William looked down at the half-dead Theresa.
"So, Theresa—how do you think I should deal with you? You've seen things you weren't supposed to see.
If I just let you walk away, that would be irresponsible on my part."
"I have no idea," Theresa replied flatly. "Do whatever you want.
Whatever you're going to do, do it.
But before that—want to guess what I feel like doing right now?"
She suddenly sat up.
"I don't know," William shook his head.
Seeing that, Theresa dropped the act entirely. She reached out, grabbed William by the collar, and yanked him back onto the bed.
In reality, she never could have pulled him down.
William allowed it—purely out of curiosity.
Once he lay back, Theresa straddled him.
She shrugged off her jacket, then peeled off her T-shirt in quick motions, revealing the black bra underneath.
"Wow," William raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"
"Doing."
—[Content omitted by the grace of almighty Lord]—
---
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the mission: Intercepting Theresa's encounter with Carter.]
[Reward obtained: Mental Imprint]
[Mental Imprint: Allows the host to place an imprint on a target. Through the imprint, the host can sense the target's approximate location.
Current imprints: 3/3]
---
After the heat died down, William got dressed.
He lit a cigarette and looked at Theresa, collapsed weakly on the bed.
While her initiative had earned him a useful ability, that didn't mean he trusted her.
"Theresa," William said as he sat on a chair, "what do you think I should do with you?"
She shook her head slightly. "I know what you're asking… but are you going to kill me?"
That question made William pause.
Of course he wasn't going to kill her.
If Theresa disappeared for too long, the university would investigate.
Unlike families in the South Side where losing one kid barely registered, Theresa's background meant her absence would draw attention—fast.
Her school, her father—someone would start looking.
"No," William said calmly. "I'm not going to kill you.
But I brought you here for a reason.
What you saw today isn't really that big a deal.
All I need is a reason to trust you.
Once tonight is over, you'll be free."
Faced with her own survival, Theresa forced herself upright.
"Then tell me," she asked quietly, "what do I need to do… for you to trust me?"