Common Sense Manipulation App-Chapter 36 - Cheating?

A sharp buzzing sound filled the air as Karl’s alarm clock vibrated violently against his nightstand. With a groggy grunt, he slapped at his phone, silencing the noise. His eyes cracked open to the blurry sight of the time.

7:45 AM.

He blinked twice.

Then groaned.

"Ugh... already?"

Before he could lament the morning further, his phone’s screen flickered to life with an all-too-familiar aristocratic tone.

"Good morning, My Lord."

Karl squinted at the screen, where Chilie Jean stood in all her regal arrogance, her hands elegantly folded in front of her. Today, she wore a deep crimson dress, her golden locks flowing like she’d just walked out of a historical drama.

"You again?"

Karl tossing his blanket aside as he dragged himself out of bed. His hair was a mess, his body still heavy with sleep, but he had no time to indulge in laziness.

"I haven’t even opened my eyes properly, and you’re already talking down to me," he muttered, rubbing his face.

Chilie Jean gave a smug smile, tilting her head slightly. "My Lord, discipline is what separates the great from the common. You wouldn’t want to be late, would you?"

Karl ignored her as he grabbed his phone and stumbled toward the bathroom. The cold tile floor jolted his senses awake, sending a shiver up his spine.

Karl let out a sigh as he shut the water off, running a hand through his damp hair. The cold splash had done its job, clearing the last remnants of sleep from his mind. He glanced at his phone.

8:15 AM.

He needed to move fast.

Grabbing a towel, he wiped his face before tossing it aside and heading back into his room. He threw on a simple black hoodie, slipped his phone into his pocket, and reached for his keys—

Ding-dong.

Karl froze mid-step.

His brows furrowed. Who the hell is that?

He wasn’t expecting anyone.

For a moment, he considered ignoring it. He was already running on a tight schedule, and whatever this was, it could probably wait.

But then—

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

The persistent ringing made it clear that whoever was at the door wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

Karl exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he walked over. He unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Standing there was Rebbeca.

She held a neatly wrapped food container in her hands, her expression somewhere between awkward and hesitant.

Karl blinked. "Rebbeca?"

She shifted slightly on her feet before meeting his gaze. "Uh... hey. You were probably getting ready for work, huh?"

Karl glanced at the clock behind her. "Yeah, kind of. What’s up?"

She held out the container. "I just... thought you might need this. You don’t exactly seem like the type to cook for yourself."

Karl stared at it for a second before hesitantly taking it from her hands. It was warm.

"You... brought me food?"

Rebbeca huffed, crossing her arms. "Look, don’t make this weird, okay? I had extra, and I figured you’d appreciate it."

Karl looked down at the container, his grip tightening slightly.

A small pang of guilt nudged at the back of his mind.

She was always like this—genuinely thoughtful, even when she didn’t have to be.

Even when she didn’t remember.

He pushed the thought away.

"Thanks," he muttered, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Rebbeca nodded. "No problem. Just make sure you eat it, alright? I don’t want to hear that you skipped a meal because you were too busy being a wage slave."

Karl scoffed lightly. "Yeah, yeah."

She lingered for a second, as if debating whether to say something else. But eventually, she just exhaled and gave a small wave.

"Alright, I’ll see you later."

And just like that, she turned and walked away.

Karl watched her disappear down the hallway before glancing down at the container in his hands.

He let out a slow breath.

This shouldn’t mean anything. She didn’t remember.

It wasn’t a problem.

Pushing the thought aside, he shut the door and checked the time again.

8:20 AM.

Shit.

No time to think.

Stuffing the container into his bag, he grabbed his keys and hurried out the door.

****

Karl adjusted his cap and let out a long, tired sigh as he stood behind the register, staring blankly at the growing line of customers. The greasy scent of frying oil clung to the air, mixing with the artificial sweetness of milkshake syrup and the ever-present stench of burnt cheese from the grill.

It had been just two days since he started this godforsaken fast food job, and he was already beginning to hate every second of it.

"Extra ketchup, extra ketchup, pleeease!"

Karl’s eye twitched.

At the counter stood a teenage girl, her oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder, repeating the same request for the third time. Her friend, just as insufferable, nudged her while giggling. freewebnσvel.cѳm

Karl forced a tight-lipped smile, his patience hanging by a thread. "Yeah. Got it. Extra ketchup."

The girl tilted her head. "But like, extra extra."

Karl exhaled sharply through his nose. He grabbed a handful of ketchup packets and slapped them onto the tray. "Here. Extra extra."

The girl blinked. "That’s only like, five. I meant—"

Karl grabbed another fistful of ketchup and dumped it in front of her, the packets spilling over the edge of the tray.

"There," he said flatly. "Extra. Extra. Ketchup."

The girl exchanged a glance with her friend before shrugging. "Oh. Cool. Thanks."

Karl didn’t bother responding. He was already turning away when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

A man walked through the restaurant doors, his broad shoulders and neatly combed hair instantly recognizable.

Johnson.

Karl’s fingers twitched as he clenched them into a fist beneath the counter.

Beside Johnson, linking arms with him, was a woman Karl hadn’t seen in a while but could never forget.

Maria.

A milf in every sense of the word—thick, curvy, and exuding the kind of effortless sex appeal that made men’s heads turn wherever she went.

Karl had known her back at his last job. He was met her few weeks ago.

And now? Now she was here. With Johnson.

Karl’s jaw tightened.

This wasn’t just some casual meeting. They were walking in together, close, too close for just friends.

Johnson—the husband of Rebbeca.

Rebbeca, who had just brought Karl breakfast this morning, a milf who gave him a nice blowjob.

Karl felt something simmering beneath the surface.

"What the fuck? Cheating?"

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