Chapter 278: Mama
"Eh? Did I leave the door unlocked?"
A woman's voice drifted in from the hallway. It was gentle and melodic, carrying
the slight note of confusion common to any ordinary mother returning home from a
shift.
Sora lunged forward, seizing Bochi's arm and violently yanking the "girl" behind
her.
"Mama is back," Sora hissed, her voice a frantic whisper. "Do not speak. Do not
deviate. Whatever happens, do not violate the protocols."
Bochi tilted its head, watching Sora's face—which was currently slick with the
sweat of a Tier-1 panic—but remained silent.
Clack.
The door swung fully open.
A woman stepped into the sector. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, wearing
a modest, floral-patterned apron over a simple dress. She clutched a bulging
plastic grocery bag that looked heavy enough to strain her arm. Her face was the
definition of "Standard"—the kind of face that dissolved into a crowd the moment
you looked away.
"Sora, you're awake?"
The woman spotted Sora and a radiant, tender smile bloomed on her face. She set
the heavy bag on the living room table and walked toward Sora with slow,
measured steps, reaching out a hand to pat the girl's head.
Sora's every instinct screamed at her to recoil, but she hammered the impulse
down with the weight of her logic.
[Rule 2: Mama possesses total affection for you. She will provide for all your
needs.]
If she dodged, would the System interpret it as a rejection of affection? Would
that induce "Sadness"?
Sora gritted her teeth, standing as still as a tombstone as the hand landed on
her hair.
"Such a good child," the woman cooed, her fingers gently smoothing Sora's locks.
Then, the woman's gaze drifted past Sora's shoulder, locking onto the silent
Bochi. Bochi stared back, its eyes filled with a raw, predatory curiosity.
The woman paused, her smile faltering for a micro-second before turning even
warmer. "Oh my! Did Sora bring a friend home to share the Evernight with us?"
The woman bypassed Sora and stopped before Bochi. She knelt slowly, bringing
herself level with the slime-in-disguise.
"What is your designation, little one?"
"Bochi," the slime answered honestly.
"Bochi... what a precious name."
The woman extended her hand, intending to offer Bochi the same pat she had given
Sora. But the moment her fingertips neared Bochi's brow, her movements locked.
She stared into Bochi's eyes for a long, heavy duration. A flicker of profound
confusion—perhaps even a shadow of alarm—passed through her pupils.
Then, she withdrew her hand and stood up. Her tone was no longer saturated with
warmth; it had turned flat and clinical.
"You are also Mama's daughter now." "From this cycle forward, you shall reside
here with Sora."
Without granting Bochi another look, the woman turned and headed toward the
kitchen, hoisting the heavy grocery bag from the table.
"Mama will prepare the sustenance. Rest for a while, children."
Her silhouette vanished behind the kitchen door.
Only then did Sora feel the atmospheric pressure lift. She gasped for air, her
lungs burning. "Did she... did she do anything to you? Are your logic circuits
intact?"
Sora grabbed Bochi by the shoulders, performing a frantic physical check. Bochi
shook its head.
"Negative. She merely observed me."
"Observed you?" Sora frowned, her brain processing the data. She felt a
"Dissonance" in how the woman had reacted to Bochi. Toward Sora, the woman's
eyes held a suffocating, possessive "Love." Toward Bochi, there was only a cold
indifference—as if the slime were a piece of furniture that had suddenly learned
to speak.
Sora didn't have time to localize the error. A voice drifted from the kitchen.
"Sora. Come and assist Mama with the preparation of the greens."
The tone was still gentle, but it carried the structural weight of a mandatory
command. Sora didn't hesitate; she marched toward the kitchen. Bochi followed at
her heels like a faithful pup.
The kitchen was cramped, barely a few square meters. The woman stood before the
sink, methodically emptying the contents of the grocery bag.
Sora's gaze landed on the "sustenance."
Her stomach performed a violent, agonizing twist.
It was meat. But not the kind found in a market.
The shapes were grotesque: some resembled severed fingers, others looked like
human ears, and some were...
Sora slammed her eyes shut, fighting the rising tide of bile.
"Sora, cleanse these for me."
The woman shoved a pile of the "meat" into Sora's arms, that same gentle smile
fixed on her face. "Mama is preparing your favorite red-braised dish tonight."
Sora suppressed her retching reflex with an iron will. She set the parts in the
basin and turned the tap on, beginning a mechanical, mindless cleaning process.
The water swirled around the pale, jagged shapes, rendering their details even
sharper in the light.
Sora kept her eyes closed. She repeated the protocols in her mind like a mantra.
[Rule 6: Mama has prepared ample sustenance. Please务必 (must) finish everything.]
[Rule 7: If you do not eat, Mama will be very sad.]
She had to consume it. No matter the origin. No matter the texture. If she
didn't, she was statistically dead.
Bochi stood in the doorway, watching the process with a tilted head. It looked
at the strangely shaped meat, then at the woman humming a lullaby as she sliced
through "vegetables" that looked suspiciously like biological tissue.
Bochi let out a long, bored yawn.
Dinner was an elaborate affair.
Red-braised meat, sweet and sour ribs, steamed fish, and a massive bowl of white
rice. The aroma was actually enticing—rich and savory. If one hadn't seen the
raw materials, it would have looked like a magnificent home-cooked meal.
The woman sat at the head of the table, smiling at her two "daughters."
"Eat up. Mama prepared this with all her affection."
Sora picked up her chopsticks, her hand vibrating with a fine tremor. She seized
a piece of the red-braised meat, closed her eyes, and shoved it into her mouth.
The texture was wrong—rubbery, metallic, yet possessing an underlying, sickening
sweetness. Sora didn't chew; she forced her throat to open and swallowed it
whole.
The woman watched her with wide, expectant eyes. "Is it flavorful?"
Sora forced a grotesque mimicry of a smile. "It... it is delicious, Mama."
The woman nodded with satisfaction and turned toward Bochi. "Eat, Bochi. You
need the nutrients for your growth."
Bochi looked at the spread, then at the woman. With zero hesitation, he reached
out and snatched the largest rib with his hand, shoving it into his mouth.
Crunch. Snap. Gulp.
The sound of grinding bone was deafening in the quiet room. Bochi chewed three
times, then his brow furrowed into a mask of pure indignation. He slammed his
hand onto the table.
"Dammit! This tastes like crap! It's terrible!"
The air in the room died.
Sora's heart nearly seized in her chest. She stole a terrified glance at the
woman, bracing for a localized apocalypse.
The woman stared back at Bochi, her eyes turning into cold, flat voids. Sora
felt the temperature in the room plummet several degrees.
One second. Two. Three.
Just as Sora expected the woman to erupt into a violent Anomaly-state, the smile
returned.
"Is that so?" the woman murmured, her voice sounding like dry parchment rubbing
together. "Then Mama will prepare something else next time. Something Bochi
finds... acceptable."
The tone was calm, bordering on doting. Sora allowed herself to breathe again.
But the confusion was mounting. Why? Why did Bochi bypass the Sadness-Protocol?
Do the Rules not apply to him?
Sora returned to her bowl, mechanically shoveling rice into her mouth.
[Rule 6: Must finish everything.]
Finally, the bowl was empty. Sora set her chopsticks down, her stomach feeling
like a lead weight.
"Such a good girl."
The woman stood and walked to Sora, patting her head gently. "Sora is truly my
most obedient child."
"Mama has prepared your assignments. Ensure they are completed on schedule."
The woman pulled a sheet of paper from her apron pocket and smoothed it onto the
table. It was a dense, meticulously written itinerary.
[SORA'S DAILY PROTOCOL]
- 06:00: Rise. Organize bedding. Variance must not exceed five minutes.
- 06:30: Hygiene. Change into garments prepared by Mama.
- 07:00 – 19:00: Reside in the Study. Consume the curriculum prepared by Mama.
You are prohibited from vacating your seat.
- 19:00: Review. Produce a 3,000-word essay on the day's learnings.
- 20:00: Retire to bed. Recieve Mama's Lullaby.
Sora stared at the paper. It felt like she was looking at the sentencing
documents for a life term.
"Mama only wants the best for you," the woman whispered into Sora's ear, the
proximity making the girl's skin crawl.
"You must apply yourself. Only through excellence can you find your value."
"Who does Mama toil for? For whose sake do I sacrifice my Od?"
"It is all for you, Sora. So you must be obedient. You cannot disappoint Mama,
right?"
Sora's fists clenched beneath the table. A wild, irrational urge to scream, to
hit, to rebel flared in her core. This isn't 'Love'! This is a prison!
But the logic of Rule 9 held her in place: [Do not induce sadness in Mama.]
"I... I understand," Sora whispered, her head bowing low.
"Good girl."
The woman smiled and turned back to the kitchen, the sound of running water
echoing as she began the dishes. Sora sat at the table, staring at the schedule,
her back drenched in a cold sweat.
Bochi sat beside her. He leaned over and spat into his own empty bowl before
cutting a sideways look at her.
"Why did you agree to that trash?"
"Because... the Rules..." Sora stammered. "If I deviate... I will be processed.
I will die."
"Oh," Bochi replied, looking entirely unimpressed. "Pitiable."
☆☆☆
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