Common Sense Manipulation App-Chapter 41

Karl swallowed, trying to push the memory out of his head. But the more he tried to forget, the more vivid it became. The heat, the way she looked up at him, the softness of her lips—

He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Sounds nice," he muttered, forcing himself to focus on Rebecca’s words instead of the image burned into his mind.

She beamed. "Yeah! I just want to remind him how much I love him, you know?"

Karl almost laughed.

Love?

He barely held back a scoff.

Her husband was out there screwing another woman without a shred of guilt, and here she was, planning a special dinner like some devoted wife.

Just like that, Karl felt a wave of disgust—not at Rebecca, but at how damn easy it was for people to lie to themselves.

He had seen it before. People pretending everything was fine, ignoring the obvious signs, clinging to whatever illusion made them feel safe.

It reminded him of Maria, his old boss. She always acted like she had everything under control, like she was this professional, put-together woman. But she played favorites. Smiled at people she couldn’t stand. Lied to herself just as much as anyone else.

Just like Rebecca.

She wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t deserve what was happening to her. But that didn’t change the fact that she was blind.

Would she still be smiling if she knew the truth?

Would she still be this excited about cooking dinner for a man who spent his time with another woman?

Karl clenched his jaw.

"Yeah, well," he said, his voice oddly neutral. "Hope it turns out good."

Rebecca gave him a final, bright smile before turning away, disappearing into the apartment complex.

Karl stood there for a moment, unmoving.

Then, slowly, he exhaled.

People lied.

They lied to others.

They lied to themselves.

And they believed it.

But Karl?

Karl had something they didn’t.

He had the app.

And with it, he could cut through every illusion, rewrite every false reality.

If the world insisted on being fake, then he would make it real.

His reality.

His rules.

Karl pulled out his phone, staring at the screen.

A slow smirk crept onto his lips.

No more hesitations. No more doubts.

If the world was built on lies, then he would rewrite them in his favor.

He had the power. He had the tool.

And from now on, he would use it completely, without restraint.

Even if it twisted reality into something obscene.

Even if it turned something sickening into a cherished memory for its victims.

Just like Rebecca.

****

Karl let out a slow, controlled breath, pressing his back against the apartment door. His mind was a mess, swirling with frustration, resentment, and something darker—something that whispered that none of it mattered anymore.

Maria and Johnson at the café.

Rebecca, pretending to be the perfect wife.

It was all a joke. A sick, twisted performance where everyone played their roles and expected him to believe it.

He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers clenching for a brief second before he sighed, shaking his head. He wasn’t even angry anymore. No, it was something else entirely—an acceptance.

Of what?

That maybe, just maybe, he had been looking at everything the wrong way.

And then—

"Oh my, Lord Karl. What an utterly tragic expression."

Karl’s gaze snapped to his phone, still locked on his home screen. The screen flickered for a moment before she appeared.

Chillie Jean.

She was dressed in her usual absurdly lavish outfit, her noble persona still very much intact. A delicate teacup rested in her gloved hand, her expression perfectly poised with an elegant sort of amusement.

Karl frowned. "You again."

Chillie took a slow sip of her tea before setting the cup down with an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, me again. A wonderful, dependable presence in your otherwise pathetic little life."

Karl rolled his eyes, pushing off the door and heading toward his desk. "You’re unusually talkative today."

"Why, of course," Chillie mused, tilting her head. "It is not every day that a mere mortal arrives at the precipice of true understanding."

Karl paused, narrowing his eyes at her. "What are you talking about?"

Chillie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Instead, there was something knowing in her gaze, something that made his skin prickle.

"Tell me, Lord Karl—have you finally decided your path in life?"

His fingers curled slightly. He hadn’t said anything out loud. Hell, he hadn’t even fully admitted it to himself yet. And yet she knew.

"How do you know what I’m thinking?"

Chillie blinked at him, then let out a small, musical laugh. "Oh, my dear Lord, do not be so foolish. Have you forgotten? I see what you see. I hear what you hear." She leaned in slightly, her voice dipping into something almost conspiratorial. "And naturally... I know what you think."

Karl inhaled slowly.

Right.

He should have expected this. Chillie wasn’t just some AI or system voice. She was an extension of the app itself, living inside it, watching everything through his eyes.

Of course she would know.

Karl exhaled through his nose. "So? What’s your point?"

Chillie Jean smiled again, resting her chin delicately on her palm. "My point, dear Lord, is that you are at a crossroads. A rather delicious one, if I may say so." She gestured toward him vaguely. "You are beginning to see the world for what it truly is. And you are beginning to ask yourself—why should you hold back?"

Karl didn’t answer.

Because she was right.

That was exactly what he was thinking.

No more hesitation. No more trying to balance morality with power.

No more pretending he was anything other than what he truly was.

Chillie must have seen the flicker of realization in his expression because she let out a delighted hum. "Ahh, there it is. That beautiful moment of clarity."

Karl finally met her gaze, something steely settling in his chest. "And what if I have decided?"

Chillie’s grin widened, her emerald eyes practically glowing with approval. "Then, my dear Lord, I shall be most entertained by what comes next."

****

A Few Days Later.

Time had moved forward, uneventful yet steady. Karl stuck to his usual rhythm—work, daily logins, and keeping interactions with others to a minimum. The world outside continued its charade, people pretending their lives weren’t a mess, and Karl found it amusing how easy it was to watch them deceive themselves.

But today was different.

Today was his day off.

And today, Emily was coming.

Karl sat at his desk, fingers drumming against the wood as he checked his phone. 905 Uncommon Points accumulated from nothing but logging in every day. Enough to do something significant, though he had yet to decide exactly what.

His gaze flicked to the time.

Any moment now.

As if on cue, his phone vibrated.

[Incoming Call: Emily]

Right on schedule.

Karl let it ring a few seconds longer than necessary before finally answering.

"What?"

"Geez, rude much?" Emily scoffed, her voice carrying that usual tone of irritation she never failed to direct at him. "I’m almost there. Open the door when I knock. And for the love of god, don’t make me walk into a pigsty, okay?"

Karl leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly. "Just wipe your feet before stepping in. I don’t want you tracking in all the filth you bring from outside."

"Asshole," she muttered before hanging up.

Karl chuckled, setting his phone down. His fingers tapped idly against his knee, his mind already running through the possibilities.

It was finally happening.

This wasn’t an accident. This wasn’t some forced coincidence. No, Karl had planned for this.

The weight of old resentment pressed into his chest, curling through his veins like a slow-burning fire.

Emily had always been a thorn in his side. The step-sister that never saw him as anything more than a nuisance, a shadow in the background of her life. She had mocked him, dismissed him, treated him like an afterthought.

And Karl?

Karl had swallowed it down. Let it fester.

For years.

But not anymore.

Another vibration.

This time, it wasn’t a call.

It was the app.

His screen flickered before it even fully loaded, and suddenly—

Chillie Jean appeared.

But she wasn’t in her usual noble attire.

Today, she was wearing a director’s outfit—a beret, a long coat, and even a ridiculous little mustache that curled at the ends. A clapperboard rested in her hands, and she grinned like she had been waiting for this moment far longer than he had.

"Lights! Camera! Action!" she announced, clapping her hands together.

Karl raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Chillie smirked, tilting her beret. "Oh, my dear Lord Karl, today is a day to be remembered! A masterpiece in the making! The performance of a lifetime!"

Karl’s lips curled slightly, his amusement genuine. "You’re really playing into this, huh?"

"Oh, but of course." Chillie twirled the clapperboard between her fingers, her emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. "A fine production deserves fine direction, wouldn’t you agree?"

Karl exhaled slowly, tilting his head. "And what exactly is this ’production’ supposed to be?"

Chillie hummed, tapping the clapperboard against her palm.

"Well, let’s see..." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to something velvety and teasing. "Doesn’t this scenario feel... familiar?"

Karl frowned.

"A girl arriving at the home of her step-brother... tensions rising, emotions simmering just beneath the surface..." She let the words linger before chuckling. "Oh, I do believe I’ve seen this before. Or rather—" her grin widened "—you have."

Karl’s smirk didn’t waver.

"You mean..." He gestured vaguely. "That old collection of mine?"

Chillie gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Oh, my dear Lord Karl, how scandalous! You mean to tell me that you had, once upon a time, such refined tastes in step-sibling... interactions?"

Karl chuckled, shaking his head. She wasn’t wrong.

Years ago, back when he was younger and filled with frustration, he had amassed quite the collection. A guilty pleasure, a fantasy that was never meant to be anything more than that.

And yet—

Here he was.

Living it.

"Fate is truly poetic, isn’t it?" Chillie mused, her gaze sharp, knowing.

Karl inhaled slowly, his smirk deepening.

"Poetic? Maybe." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "But I prefer to think of it as justice."

Chillie’s eyes glowed with approval.

"Ah, yes. A tale of long-held resentment, now culminating in a truly cinematic experience!" She gestured dramatically. "Tell me, dear Lord Karl, how shall our protagonist approach this scene? Will it be tender? Reluctant? Or perhaps... a touch more cruel?

Visit freewe𝑏n(o)v𝒆l.𝑐𝘰𝑚 for the best novel reading experience