"Ouch…ouch…Hod——"
X's tears stream down, a mixture of physiological saline and a trace of blood from her bitten lip. The Dean's embrace, far from cuddly, resembles a canine animal.
The Dean's canine tendencies have intensified significantly, yet X hasn't reflected on why things turned out this way.
Overzealousness equals haste, equals recklessness, equals voracious possession.
The whimper of pain is so pathetic that it briefly clears the Training Department Dean's mind. However, due to the effects of Enkephalin, her mind remains clouded, muddled, completely unfocused, more like immersion in desire…
Surrendering to lustful indulgence.
After X's cry of pain, Hod's movements remain forceful but are less chaotic and more controlled. Her kisses become gentler—
Unlike before, there's method and restraint.
It seems she's attempting to calm and comfort X.
"Manager…"
She uses her title, not her name, her voice soft and delicate, a stark contrast to her actions.
Nuzzling her neck…she greedily inhales X's scent, as if it were a captivating perfume or candle fragrance.
Far more alluring than any incense.
Her blue eyes never leave X's gaze. She observes, savors, and enjoys the woman's expressions, her bewildered look.
She sees the woman's frightened, flustered expression, her confusion.
And she sees the woman's submission, her continued surrender.
This transgression is easily reversible; she could be punished.
Because the short-haired black-haired woman is the Manager, their superior, and always will be.
Not just in the past, but now, in the future…this shouldn't be happening; this is insubordination.
The Training Department Dean is fully aware of this.
Yet, it's clear that the woman's indulgence is the Manager's tacit approval and consent. There is no resistance, no disgust; it's treated as a reward.
"Be gentler, Hod…don't kiss like that."
X doesn't rebuke her excessive greed or her forceful, impetuous actions. She points out a different issue entirely, completely missing the point, her breath carrying a strong scent of alcohol.
It's the aroma of gin…
Perhaps the alcohol makes X more sluggish, less perceptive of the unusual situation. The alcohol numbs her, making her hazy and compliant, like a large, easily petted quail, cuddled and nuzzled.
Incredibly docile and gentle…
Within certain limits, X demonstrates considerable gentleness, possessing a malleable sweetness like candy, like a marshmallow that can be molded and then savored.
Caramelizing sugar is a sweet process—or perhaps not a process at all, as it's a simple caramelization, requiring only sugar and heat.
The caramelized sugar releases a rich aroma; the exterior is dry and golden, while the interior remains soft and slightly liquid yet firm; a semi-melted state is ideal.
Eaten while hot, the sweet caramel explodes in the mouth—a sweetness that reaches the nasal passages but is still satisfying to swallow; the intrigue surpasses the simple pleasure of eating.
Sweet lovers would adore it.
X tries to teach her Dean how to kiss gently, but the usually gentle, docile, delicate, and pitiful Training Department Dean simply rubs against her waist, demanding a reward with a superior attitude.
Regardless of propriety…
Perhaps due to repeated broken promises and the release of the Dean's pent-up desires during that prolonged wait in the office—the feeling of neglect, of abandonment, intensified, leading to a more twisted psychology…or a deeper, more perverse desire.
Better no cake than unevenly divided cake. Even if the cake is divided, there will be arguments over whether a piece has a cherry or not.
X struggles to push herself up, but the Training Department Dean doesn't relent, as if unsatisfied, unfulfilled; the meager rations offered are far from sufficient.
The Deans' appetites grow ever larger, while small, occasional favors can no longer satisfy their increasingly insatiable desires.
This should have been noticed, the greedy, lustful, possessive gaze, but under the influence of alcohol, X feels drowsy, sleepy.
"Ugh, let's continue tomorrow, Hod…unless there's something else, I'm going home."
Drowsy, instinctively, X loosens her collar; she feels hot, a common post-drinking sensation. The air conditioning seems ineffective, and a warm body is pressed against her.
Golden eyes droop; she yawns repeatedly, seemingly genuinely sleepy, dazed. The alcohol is taking effect; the aftereffects are hitting…she doesn't usually get this sleepy or feel this urge to go to bed early.
X drank a lot tonight—champagne and gin.
She obtained the gin from the Safety Department Dean; she even appeased Netzach, fulfilling a small request, to get that bottle.
Netzach's work was exceptionally well-done, better than before, as if she'd genuinely changed, becoming diligent and hardworking—
Though she still maintained her lazy demeanor, she completed all her tasks, showing diligence in her report, unlike her previous perfunctory efforts.
Seeing her subordinate's excellent work, X, as Manager, was naturally pleased, leading to more drinks with Netzach, resulting in a delay.
The Training Department Dean, however, remained alert and capable of continuing the drinking; her stamina was far beyond normal—
However, X's tolerance wasn't low; she could drink far more than the average person, though far less than an AI.
She was drinking with an AI, not a human. An AI cannot get drunk; even Enkephalin, at non-overdose levels, has minimal effects, let alone alcohol.
Alcohol does affect AIs, but the effects are limited. Getting an AI drunk is incredibly difficult, but getting a human drunk is easy.
Given that Lobotomy Corporation's upper management, besides X, consists entirely of AIs, X's alcohol tolerance is a tragedy. She'll never catch up, and competing in drinking contests with AIs is foolish self-flagellation.
Such a simple principle, yet the Lobotomy Corporation Manager stubbornly persists, fixating on trivial matters, like a familiar taunt; she knows better, yet falls for it every time.
The Training Department Dean licks her lips, nuzzles intimately, and inhales the mixed scent of gin, citrus, and mint. The scent from X's collar isn't enough; she pushes aside the white jacket to access her shoulders.
She lifts X's arm, rubbing against her armpit, drawn to the most concentrated area of pheromones. The black uniform is formal, accentuating her figure, her slender waist.
Unlike trousers that require a belt for a proper fit, X's uniform is tight-fitting on top, concealing a long, white shirt underneath.
No words are needed. X is meticulous about personal hygiene; she's clean and has a slight Obsessive-Compulsive tendency. Her OCD doesn't manifest in her clothing but in her work and time efficiency.
Though she doesn't wear makeup or meticulously arrange her raven hair, she meticulously bathes, changes clothes, and makes her bed; her resting areas are always spotless.
She cleanses herself morning, noon, and night, avoiding any lingering scents.
The Training Department Dean's actions are strange; does X smell bad? Is there something unusual about her scent?
The Corporation maintains a consistently cool temperature; the entire building is a sealed environment, kept at a pleasantly cool yet slightly chilly level. A light jacket is sufficient; sweating is rare.
"Um…Hod, is there something strange about my scent?"
X inhales her own scent; nothing unusual, only a faint trace of gin, a light, gentle aroma, not strong or overpowering.
Yet, X suspects there might be something, something she can't quite detect due to the alcohol. Her senses are dulled; her head feels like a jammed gear, struggling to turn.
But the Dean doesn't answer; drowsy, X can barely see clearly, her eyes drooping; she feels an urge to fall asleep on the sofa—
Then, she feels a movement at her waist; after a moment of fumbling, a buckle is sought, as if about to undo her belt.
"Wait, no removing clothing! That's not within the reward parameters, Hod!"
X snaps awake, as if suddenly doused with ice water.
She's finally alert, realizing the danger only when the fire has nearly consumed her. She quickly grabs the Training Department Dean's hand, preventing further actions.
X possesses considerable strength, even exceeding that of the Corporation's AIs, though it wasn't always this way; her strength has increased rapidly. Now, it's enough to restrain the Corporation's Department Deans.
At least those Deans, not trained in combat or holding combat-related positions, can be subdued.
X avoids excessive force; the Deans aren't automatons; she doesn't want to harm them; forceful separation might damage their AI bodies.
Though AI bodies are presumably replaceable or repairable, X refuses; it's a matter of principle and subconscious preference.
There's no reason to harm friends…they are her friends.
Stopped by X, Hod becomes docile, her blue eyes cast a pitiful gaze upon the Manager, resembling a cuddly rabbit. If she weren't an AI, tears might well up.
"Manager…Manager…Hod is cold."
The soft, weak voice is utterly pathetic; X's heart melts, and she releases her grip.
The cuddly rabbit seeks warmth, clearly from X. She presses close, clinging tightly, shrinking, unwilling to leave, or perhaps…hoping X won't leave.
X intends to reason with the Dean, explain the situation, and emphasize the need for her departure. But before she can speak, she's interrupted by an unexpected intrusion.
With forceful efficiency, Hod prevents X from speaking, silencing her objections.
It's as if she wants to possess everything, to devour, to consume, with unrestrained fervor.
Suffocating…
X feels her life-giving air being stolen, her living space encroached upon, breathing becoming increasingly difficult.
Not only is her reason failing, but her rationality is also straining… collapsing.
Despite her sluggishness, the alcohol-induced numbness, she feels intense heat, a burning frenzy.
The hand on her shoulder doesn't loosen—
The Training Department Dean's grip is tight, uncontrolled, as if afraid something might escape. She clings fiercely, refusing to let go.
Until her scent permeates the black-haired woman, leaving its mark…though AIs lack a true scent, the gin and Enkephalin leave a residue.
It's unremarkable, but satisfying.
"Manager, look at Hod's nails; they're well-maintained."
The Training Department Dean presents her hands, showing neatly trimmed nails, possibly manicured…
The principle is unclear, but the intention is obvious—similar to human nail care.
Smooth, trimmed nails won't scratch or cause the kind of injuries inflicted before, meaning no pain.
The Training Department Dean has realized that X prefers gentleness, not pain.