Common Sense Manipulation App-Chapter 75: A Femboy?

...they both fell silent for a moment.

Their eyes widened instantly, their faces painted with a mix of shock, disgust, and... a hint of curiosity.

The second floor of this luxurious house—which from the outside looked like the dream villa of a successful businessman—turned out to hide something more like a secret room in an underground BDSM club.

There were glass shelves filled with various sex toys: dildos of all shapes and colors, vibrators, ben wa balls, and other things Karl didn’t even know the names of. In the corners of the room hung several whips, riding crops, leather ropes, pink-feathered handcuffs, and even bizarre latex animal masks.

Mira blinked a few times, as if her brain was still trying to process the reality in front of her.

Karl, with the reflex of a perverted guy mixed with genuine curiosity, stepped forward and picked up one of the whips.

"This... is real?" he asked softly.

He cracked it in the air, producing a loud "CRAK!" that made both of them glance instinctively toward the stairs, afraid someone might have heard.

Mira finally spoke, her voice flat but dripping with sarcasm. "Amazing. This house has two floors—first floor for mental torture, second floor for sexual torture."

Karl chuckled. "At this point, I’m not even surprised anymore. He’s an ugly bastard who fell in love with his own daughter."

Mira walked to a glass cabinet on the right side of the room. Her fingers brushed the handle gently as she opened it—to reveal a collection of lingerie and cosplay outfits. Sexy maid, bunny girl, nurse, and... schoolgirl uniforms?

Mira scoffed. "This is just... he’s not just a pervert. This is full-on deranged."

Karl stepped closer, examining the items one by one. "This definitely wasn’t bought for a legal wife. This is the kind of shit you buy for illegal fetishes."

Then Karl’s eyes stopped on something that made his body freeze.

"...Mira, is that a camera?" he said, pointing toward the corner of the room.

Mira turned, following the direction of his finger.

A small hidden camera was attached to the corner of the ceiling, barely noticeable unless someone looked really close.

"He was recording all of this...?" Mira asked, her voice growing colder.

Karl scanned the room again, his eyes now carefully examining every angle. "There might be more cameras. Damn... I think we just stepped into the hell floor."

Karl let out a long breath, his eyes still sweeping the increasingly disturbing room. But then, he stopped, noticing something on a low table next to the lingerie cabinet.

It was a sort of album. But not a regular one.

It was large, almost the size of a graduation certificate folder. The cover was pitch black, with worn corners. No title, no label. Just a small pair of initials in the bottom-right corner: "I.L."

Karl squinted, then slowly opened the first page.

And immediately regretted it.

The first photo showed a young girl, probably in middle school, sitting on the edge of a bathtub. Wet, naked, smiling shyly at the camera. In the blurry background, a figure could be seen—faint, but clear enough to guess who it was.

"...Fuck."

He instinctively closed the page, but the boiling curiosity—and rage—pushed him to flip to the next one.

Isabelle. Still in middle school. This time in her bedroom, wearing only a thin towel. A small printed date sat below the photo.

Karl turned page after page. Each one showed Isabelle growing up, from middle school to high school, and finally... now. Every photo was either taken secretly, or posed under the disgusting excuse of a "father-daughter" bond. But they all shared one clear thread: obsession.

Mira, who had been busy rummaging through the drawers, noticed Karl’s face darkening.

"Hey. What’d you find?" she asked.

Karl didn’t respond.

Mira stepped closer, looking over his shoulder. The moment her eyes fell on one of the photos—Isabelle in tight gym clothes, bending down to pick up a water bottle—she froze.

"...Fucking hell," Mira muttered, her voice barely more than a seething whisper. "This... this isn’t a fetish. This is a crime."

Karl shut the album hard. "Shit, now I’m hard."

Mira looked at him with utter disgust.

"If you wanna jerk off, go to the goddamn bathroom," she snapped coldly. "And don’t even think about touching any girl who’s too young."

Karl slipped the large album into a leather bag he found in the corner of the room and zipped it tight. "Hey... I’m not that rotten."

But just as he was about to stand up, his eyes drifted once again to the camera in the corner.

"...You think someone’s watching us right now?" he whispered.

Mira turned slowly, her eyes locking onto the camera as well.

"If they are," she said in a flat, dangerous tone, "they’d better be ready to be hunted."

With suspicion, Mira eyed the walls of the room.

"Karl, doesn’t this second floor feel too narrow? The distance from wall to wall doesn’t match the size of a house this big," she said softly, scanning the space with her gaze.

Karl nodded, smiling in admiration. "Wow, aside from being a big booty MILF, turns out you’re smart and observant too, Mira. I’m liking you more and more."

Mira shot him a sharp look. "Save the flirting for later. I’m serious, this is weird."

Before she could finish her sentence, the wall in front of them suddenly began to shake violently. The old wallpaper started peeling off slowly, revealing a hidden door they hadn’t noticed before. Mira and Karl instinctively stepped back, their eyes wide with caution.

From behind the secret door, a figure emerged—slender, pale, and extremely skinny, wearing a black-and-white frilly maid outfit. In their trembling hands was a shotgun, shaking along with them.

Karl and Mira froze, caught off guard. The maid looked nervous, their eyes watery and full of fury. Then, suddenly, they screamed—voice cracking uncontrollably.

"What did you do to Daddy!?"

Karl blinked a few times, his expression slowly shifting to confusion. That voice... high-pitched, screechy, and cracking like a cursed mix between failed puberty and anime vocal training. His eyes scanned the maid from head to toe—too pretty to be a guy, but there was something in that voice that couldn’t be faked. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

"Wait..." he muttered to himself. "That was... a guy’s voice?"

Reality hit him like a brick.

"A femboy?"

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.c(o)m