"Even if you're capable of that, why are you telling me? Aren't you afraid I'll report you to the higher-ups for some merit?" Layla's voice was sharp, almost incredulous. She didn't even consider her captor's offer—it sounded absurd. How could a lone cursemaster, someone she'd stumbled upon by chance, accomplish what governments around the world had failed to do?
Since Voltaic Wisps could heal themselves using electricity through their skill 'Cursed Arc Converter,' cursemasters around both the worlds had long theorized that it might be possible for a mortal to a Voltaic Wisp curse core to become a curse slave skipping all the suffering and waiting. The idea was to embed a Voltaic Wisp curse core into their heart feed it electricity instead of negative energy to nourish the curse core and use the heart as a vessel to bring about its rebirth.
In theory, it sounded plausible. However, in practice, attempting this would inevitably result in the mortal's heart exploding during the rebirth process due to the immense electric fields generated by the curseling's regeneration. The fatal flaw lay in the lack of a life bond between the reborn curseling and the mortal host.
Establishing a life bond required raw negative emotions. Feeding the curse core this raw negative emotions allowed the mortal's heart to function as a true vessel, forming the necessary connection between them. Electricity, on the other hand, couldn't create this bond. Instead, it would merely facilitate the curseling's regeneration within the person's heart—invinting a horrifyingly cruel way to die.
Still, the debate raged on. What if the electricity supplied was derived from curse energy? Many had experimented with this idea, but so far, no success had been reported.
Layla's mind raced. It was becoming painfully clear that she might not make it out of this alive. Her captor wasn't just toying with her; she had a plan. A cruel, calculated one. If Layla played along, she'd end up trying to become a curse slave. Her death would look like the result of her own reckless ambition to become a curse slave. When the C.I.B. investigates her death, they'd chalk it up to her greed for power. Her captor's hands would be clean.
"Honey," the fake Layla said with a tilt of her head and an unsettling calm in her tone, "trust is a two-way street. If I want you to trust me not to expose what the C.I.B. has been up to in the 'World of Curse,' I have to trust you not to reveal my identity and my abilities to the C.I.B. That's my true intention here." She leaned closer, her voice softening. "Now that you know, it's up to you. You can trust me—or remain my captive for the rest of your life."
Layla studied her captor's expression, searching for any crack in the facade. She didn't find one. After a moment, she exhaled and straightened up, her resolve hardening. "Fine. Let's go." Her voice was steady, her face unreadable. "But don't think for a second that I trust you. I'm just embracing the inevitable and saving us both some trouble. If I die, you'd better be grateful."
She knew the stakes. If she died, her life signs would vanish from the C.I.B.'s monitoring system, triggering an immediate investigation, giving the C.I.B. a chance to protect its secrets. It was her only chance to redeem herself—and she wasn't going to waste it.
At first, Layla's plan was to wait it out for as long as possible. She knew that once the C.I.B. realized she was missing, they'd be able to respond more efficiently after she died. But when her captor mentioned keeping her as a prisoner for the rest of her life, a chill ran down her spine. It dawned on her that they might be planning to escape to the 'World of Curses' and kill her there. If that happened, even if the C.I.B. somehow figured out what went down, they'd be powerless to act—no authority, no jurisdiction in that world.
Layla's eyes narrowed as she weighed her options. There was another problem: if cornered, her captor could easily spill the beans about the C.I.B.'s surveillance operations just to save themselves. The thought of it made her jaw tighten. She couldn't let that happen.
The sooner she died, the better the C.I.B.'s chances were of avenging her and protecting their secrets. It was grim, but she knew it was her best shot at redemption by stopping this from spiraling any further.
Fake Layla seemed to see right through Layla's intentions, but instead of reacting with hostility, she simply smiled. Her voice was calm, almost unnervingly so, as she said, "I need you to be unconscious for what's about to happen next. The next time you wake up, you'll be a curse slave."
"What? Wait—what are you—" Layla tried to move, panic rising in her chest. But before she could do anything, the world around her began to blur. Her captor had already acted, and Layla felt herself slipping under.
As her vision darkened, she caught one last image: Fake Layla leaning closer, her expression soft, almost tender. "Night, night, little Layla," she murmured with a chilling sweetness.
"Well done." The tiny figure of Dame Wasp appeared as Fake Layla morphed into a voluptuous female with unrealistic beauty while slowly resting the unconscious Layla on the floor.
"I should update master on the progress," Emi said standing up only to find her master rely through status screen,
Ace: No need—I saw everything through Rose's senses. You did an excellent job, Emi.
Ace: But are you sure about this reverse curse-slave method you developed? The Shikigami Slave Art, right? If she dies, it's going to make it a lot harder for us to stay hidden.
Emi: Don't worry, Master. I based it on my family's Shikigami Possession Arts combined with curse-slave techniques. I'm confident that by the time I'm finished, not only will she survive, but she'll become my Shikigami's vessel. Honestly, there's no need for this facade at all.
Ace: Leave it as a last resort. She's my way into the C.I.B., and the less she knows, the better. She'll serve me far more effectively believing she's free than realizing she's someone's puppet.]