"The forest? You have got to be kidding me," he said, the anger in his chest stacking up with each passing minute, one moment he was in wealth, abundance of it, and the next he was being sent to a house in the forest, some ramshackle dwelling that probably hadn't seen proper maintenance in years.
God, he hated this, just what sort of luck was this? Not only was he a fat ass who could barely walk, he now lost the one compensation he was clinging to from the moment he started at that mirror, the wealth that had been his only solace in this nightmare.
"Why are you here, Inna?" He asked, staring at the maid whose pristine uniform, he didn't want to see her face or anything that reminded him of his past privilege.
"I go wherever the master goes," was her response, with that casual tilt of her head which would have made her dangerously cute—the way her dark hair caught the filtered sunlight streaming through the canopy—if not for the expressionless face.
"Get the fuck out," he said, at this point he had recalled most of the memories of this liquid waste that was Anderson, a drunk bastard, untalented as fuck, and a pathetic waste of space who had somehow managed to squander every advantage life had handed him. All the idiot knew how to do was wake up, shit, eat, go party, indulge with his shitty ass friends in whatever pleasure the day held—gambling, drinking, whoring—eat, sleep. Bastard never trained even once, how the hell did he even think he was going to beat someone who was not only talented but a training freak? 'I NEED SOME ICE! THIS HEADACHE IS GETTING WORSE!'
Yes, he still felt like he was carrying a planet in his head, but that wasn't the worst of it, it was more and more memories of this shitty bastard that kept tainting his mind by the moment, debauchery in the highest order. Even Larson in all his lifetimes had never slept with so many women, the sheer number was staggering and nauseating. 'Wait... What if I caught some dangerous infectious disease?' that... was a very disturbing thought, how was the fat fuck even indulging in this pleasure with this mess of a body that wheezed with every movement?!
'DAMN IT!' at this point if he could wield his soul he would already be hunting for his dead corpse as Lumiea, at least that boy was manageable even as an undead compared to this disaster.
"I can't leave the master," she said and for the first time, frowned, the expression creating small lines around her eyes that somehow made her seem... dangerous.
'What the hell?! Just get the fuck away from me!' he didn't want to see any woman now, the memories he received were just too... horrible, like what sort of kink did the guy not have?! Deranged was the word, the things 'he' did with women horrified him—acts that would make seasoned soldiers vomit. 'I... I THINK I have been traumatized,' at this point he wanted the memories to stop coming but like an open tap that had burst its pipes, it only got worse.
"I no longer need a maid, so just... go back, go back to the mansion," he said, taking a deep breath to cleanse his mind of the filth swirling through it, but no, the memories now seemed to have a mind of their own, showing him the most disturbing visions of what his big ass body was doing to some random strip club girl. He was literally destroying the girl with his bulk and depravity!
"... No, I will not go back," Said Inna, her expression darkening like storm clouds gathering over a peaceful meadow, but Anderson was far too involved with the strangely arousing memories that stroked the hidden degeneracy all men had buried deep within, "Sighs... I am ordering you Inna," he calmed himself, as the memories suddenly started moving onto a certain girl, strangely familiar—blonde hair, green eyes—she seemed like the fiancée, and this time... he became serious.
There was a problem.
"Master..." in that instant, all distraction ceased and right before him was Inna, looking into his eyes with an intensity that made his soul shrivel, "Do you remember what happened when you last asked me to leave you?" she asked, and he frowned, for some reason, his body instinctively shuddered like muscle memory kicking in against his will, he tried to back away, thinking about it, none of his degenerate memories of Anderson had involved him touching any of the maids in the mansion—no, Inna, for some reason, was the only maid he was ever allowed near, or rather, she only allowed him near her.
"WHAT THE HELL?! As your master, I order—!" her hands covered his mouth with deceptive gentleness and she sat beside him, "Master... it seems your illness is affecting your judgment, don't worry... I will take care of you till you are fully healed," she brought his head 'gently' to her lap, her hand caressing his pale blue hair with gentle strokes.
That smile on her emotionless face.
It was worrying.
'What the hell is happening?!'