Karl instinctively raised his hands in surprise, both eyebrows shooting up like they were trying to escape his forehead. "Whoa, whoa, easy! I didn’t touch anyone, I swear!"
anwhile, Mira stepped forward confidently, her posture firm and her gaze sharp—like a strict teacher who just caught a student cheating on an exam. She didn’t hesitate for a second, even with the shotgun barrel pointed directly at her chest.
"Are you crazy?! Don’t co any closer, this gun—" the femboy didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Mira, in one swift move, grabbed the barrel of the shotgun.
"Excuse ," she said coldly.
With surprising strength, she yanked the weapon from the femboy’s hands, twisted it, and dropped the slim figure with a single elbow strike to the neck. The femboy collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, unconscious, only letting out a soft gasp.
Karl stood stunned. "Mira, seriously... you’re one badass MILF. Weren’t you afraid of getting shot?"
Mira sighed and tossed the shotgun onto the nearest sofa. "It’s fake. Just a toy."
"What?" Karl stepped closer and examined the weapon. Sure enough, it felt oddly light, and there was no clear trigger chanism. Even the barrel was sealed with plastic.
"I once interviewed a firearm collector," Mira explained, squatting to check on the unconscious femboy. "This is one of those replica models they sell for cosplay. It can’t even shoot water."
Karl widened his eyes. "So... he was just roleplaying? Damn... a gun-toting maid cosplay? The world’s gone insane."
Mira gently patted the femboy’s cheek twice. "And we still don’t know who this guy really is. But if he called that bastard ’Daddy’..."
"...Then maybe he’s adopted, or... another victim? But Eric said he doesn’t like anal. This just gets weirder," Karl added with a dark undertone.
Mira exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes still scanning the room. "Eric’s too rich for any of this to make sense. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that femboy was just... a pet. Or a project. Or whatever twisted label people like him co up with when they get bored of normal."
Karl blinked. "A pet? You an like—"
"Not in the term cum pot or whatever that bastard said before," Mira cut in coldly. "I an in the ’here’s a human being I dressed up and psychologically rewired until they called Daddy’ kind of way."
Mira stood up, her face more serious than ever. "Let’s check where this femboy ca from."
Karl and Mira exchanged a glance, then turned toward the secret door the femboy had used. Though hesitant at first, Mira took the lead and pushed the door open slowly.
Behind it lay a short, dimly lit hallway, ending in a narrow room filled with screens.
They stepped inside.
Dozens of monitors lined the walls. So showed recordings, the rest displayed live feeds from all over the house—living room, bedrooms, kitchen, garage, even the front yard. Everything was visible. Even outside the main gate was under surveillance.
Mira stepped up to one of the screens, staring at the image of herself and Karl from a cara hidden in the ceiling of the previous room.
"No wonder," Mira murmured, her eyes sharp. "No wonder Eric knew I was coming."
Karl frowned. "You think... he’s been watching you this whole ti?"
Mira only gave a slow nod, her lips pressed tight. Her eyes never left the screen.
Karl walked over to a small desk in the corner, cluttered with a keyboard and scattered flash drives. "This is the control room... like his own private surveillance post. Damn. He’s hiding so freaky secrets."
Mira took a deep breath, now wearing a cynical expression. "Don’t you have weird secrets too, huh?"
The room was cold, not just because of the AC, but from the disturbing atmosphere—this was a place where a man dressed as a maid played the role of a watcher.
Karl moved toward a small switch almost hidden behind the monitor rack. Out of curiosity, he reached out and flicked it.
Click.
A white ceiling light turned on, illuminating the room more clearly. As the light spread, both of them froze.
The room...
Karl blinked a few tis, making sure he wasn’t seeing things. "Is this... a child’s bedroom?"
Mira stepped slowly toward the center of the room, scanning her surroundings with a puzzled and uncomfortable look.
A small bed with pastel pink sheets. Plush toys neatly lined up on the pillow. Cute cartoon posters on the wall, complete with unicorns and rainbows. A tiny study desk, complete with coloring books and crayons. Toy shelves full of Barbies, dolls, and colorful puzzles.
"This... doesn’t feel like a room that should be connected to a CCTV control center," Karl muttered.
Mira walked over to a small cabinet decorated with star and heart stickers. "And everything’s clean... like it’s regularly used."
Karl scratched his head. "This is... weird. I an, who lives here? Did that femboy really stay in a room like this?"
Mira raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. Or maybe he was forced to. Or... he designed this room himself."
Karl turned to look again at all the monitors stuck on the walls of this cute, girly bedroom.
"A weird combo. Like... a kindergarten hooked up to a surveillance hub."
Mira crossed her arms, her face dead serious. "And every corner of this house is starting to show signs of sothing way off. This isn’t just perversion... this feels like a psychological maze."
Karl gave a slow nod. "I’m starting to think this isn’t a house—it’s a madman’s stage."
They stood there, engulfed in growing discomfort and confusion, trying to make sense of a place that shouldn’t exist.
Karl slowly walked toward a small table beside the tiny bed. On top of it lay a shiny pink notebook, decorated with glitter and hearts, titled "My Life."
He squinted. "Is this... a diary?"
Without waiting for Mira’s reaction, Karl picked up the book and opened the first page.
Small, curvy handwriting greeted them. The letters were decorated with little flowers and love emoticons, as if it belonged to an innocent little girl.
But the contents...
Karl read aloud, eyes widening.
"Today Daddy...
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