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Donis woke up with a sharp ringing in her ears as if a bomb had gone off in her mind. She blinked back her blurry vision, seeing blue letters organize themselves over the mutilated man's body— [Lord Broncoft]
Her eyes slid over to the pieces of flesh lying around the man's stained blood pooling around his neck. A metallic taste lingered in her mouth as she stared and remembered every detail of the memory. Donis put her hand over her mouth; she did that. She could still taste the flesh in the back of her throat mixed with the blood. Revulsed by it, Donis gaged on her hands and knees, thinking that her stomach would spill all its content out. Nothing came from her mouth, so she forced a finger down her throat until something came out—she didn't have anything in her stomach to come out in the beginning.
She felt like she needed to check if she did swallow any flesh because it felt so taboo. Donis didn't want the back of her mind to remind her that she did something cannibalistic. What she didn't notice was the dry blood on her hands, making hand prints everywhere she touched. When she did, she wiped them on her dirtied dress front before looking back at the lifeless man. Somehow, her mind knew who it was; the letters in her vision did. It felt like wearing a virtual reality headset with no way to turn it off.
[Mental state is declining; the system recommends using Conceptual Barrier to offset some of the mental damage.]
How? Her hands reached up to her neck, leaving ghastly handprints of Lord Broncoft's blood. Donis attempted to wipe the tears from her eyes but lost her ability to see momentarily before using her sleeves instead. Then her breathing dipped in the sea as a drowning sensation washed over her body like the high tide.
[By commanding me.]
So you can read my thoughts like some of those alternative intelligence systems?
[You can think of me as that if you wish. To turn off the merger within your brain's system that merges the system to hear your thoughts, simply think to turn it off. The system does not recommend doing such a thing until your mental state is marked normal.]
None of this makes sense. I don't get what you're saying. Why is there a 'system' inside my fucking brain?
[This system created a higher power's pity upon you. You should be honored.]
A higher power was such a concept she never thought of in this life as she had been busy with training under her mother and running errands for the other whores and brothel manager. Donis struggled to roll her eyes as panic settled within her; gripping her neckline, she involuntarily choked on tears. Activate Conceptual Barrier before I—
[Activation initializing... Conceptual Barrier activated, offsetting mental damage to the back of the mind.]
The tide Donis had been struggling to stay still in finally broke as a shield had been placed between the waves and her body. Donis pushed herself up, stretching before walking toward her brothel's logo hanging above the back entrance.
[Using this ability too much with your mind's weak psyche will cause retribution in the future. Level up your mind's endurance to handle mental damage by completing training tasks. The system can assign these tasks when the opportunity arises or create mental training scenarios if permission is granted for the system to use your imagination's brain regions, such as the hippocampus and amygdala.]
Stolen story; please report.
Let's worry about that after I find my bed.
Donis looks up at the logo hanging on the rusty metal chains. The logo was a close-up of a woman's face, her bright red lips being the promising feature to lure drunk customers. Staring at the color nauseated her before she went through the door. She could feel the ability to take the feeling away as she climbed up the stairs to the second floor, where the pleasure took place. The moans, groans, and drugs were something she had desensitized herself to over the years, but today, it hit differently. The smell and noises reminded her of what she did, but the Conceptual Barrier also basked that feeling away. Going up the next set of rugged stairs, Donis found her mother's private quarters. Inside that room looked like royalty; as one of the highest whores in the city, she drowned in richness. She lived in these two-roomed quarters until her contract was up with the brothel.
Donis had only been there a few times as one of the flowers. The flowers were girls who had not yet had their periods, not yet become full-fledged women. When a girl became a woman in the brothel, she started her training under one of the seasoned sex workers. The moment that the veteran considered the girl eligible to take on the position of a sex worker, she got a room of her own. Six months was the average length of training. The lucky ones stayed under their master's for another year or two—if those sex workers took pity on them.
When they start working the floor as a whore, they sign a contract with the brothel manager, which determines their income and the length of time they spend at the brothel. The process was different for girls who were bought by the brothel or traded as slaves.
When the yearly contracts ended, the worker was either kicked out of her living quarters, forced to live on the streets, or offered another contract. The girls bought by the brothel stayed there until they paid off what the brothel paid for them, working for free. Only then could they start earning an income. Unlike the girls hired by the brothel, those girls could also be traded or sold in the slave market. Many of those girls put in all their effort to stay in the brothel manager's favor.
Donis had made friends with those girls only to feel sad when they never appeared the next day. Growing up with the enslaved girls, she learned to appreciate her position more. Luckily, she had been born into the brothel, birth hidden by the brothel manager and her mother, where she could not be sold or traded. Until Donis flowered, the brothel was stuck with her. She had to try extra hard for the brothel manager to like her because her mother didn't—she couldn't use the woman to keep a roof over her head as being the brothel's highest income and highest whore had its benefits. Donis took matters into her own hands, planning ways to hide her period. It was easy to gain intel roaming the streets, but she didn't think that would be an option for a while.
Quickly walking past her mother's room, she found the end of the hall where the flower's quarters were. She slammed the door behind her as she found the room littered with bunk beds and cots. Clothing was everywhere, and it smelled like shit because there was no running water. Only the nobles had running water. Commoners used chamber pots, and it was the flowers' duty to empty theirs and everyone else's in the morning. The chamber pots were under the bunk beds, making it hell for the girl sleeping on the bottom bunk—coincidentally her. Instead of sleeping in her hay-stuffed mattress, she settled in the food cellar where all she could smells were better. In the winter, it was a different story. Nobody was in the flower quarters because everyone was working on the prostitute's makeup and dress wear, waitressing the bar, or cleaning up the pleasure rooms after every session. Donis decided to skip out on working tonight, not eager to hear the brothel manager's scolding voice in the morning.
Grabbing her patchy blanket, she returned down the stairs, avoiding everyone's eyes, before going to the below-ground cellar. Most food was bread, canned vegetables, dried fish, and bagged rice. Donis leaned against the stone wall, wrapping her blanket around her uncomfortable body.
Hey, system, explain what the fuck is going on.
[The higher powers had taken pity on your situation and bestowed your mind an interface you had known to help you cope in your past life.]
Video games did help her escape reality, but that didn't explain why her mind was redesigned like one. Like a video game?
[Exactly like one of those with an intelligence system, me, to help you. The system will guide you in this world unfamiliar to you and lead you to your predetermined destiny.]
That sounds awfully cliche.
[You should feel honored that one of the higher powers blessed you with me.]
Very. If the system could feel sarcasm, it would have scolded her.
[An unfamiliar emotion detected, studying your memories... Emotion detected: sarcasm. You should not talk with that tone about the higher powers.]
I didn't choose to be reincarnated. I should at least get an explanation from them before I start thanking them for giving me a guide in the life they gave me. Assuming they are responsible for reincarnation.
[Reincarnation is not part of my master's higher power. That is another's duty.]
Donis didn't want to get into the duties of these higher powers or whatever, but the temptation was there. Hidden information wasn't always the best to pry into. There's a reason why such things are hidden. Maybe another time, she will ask the system. What do I call you?
[I am known as the system.]
[Would you like me to boost your melatonin production to help with insomnia?]
Do what you want—
[Command successful.]