Miss Regalia calling me?

The transplantation surgery of sexual companion chips often exerts a significant impact on one's health, and individuals with better physical constitution tend to bear a more substantial impact.

As the foremost medical conglomerate in the twenty-fifth district, the Weyten Consortium has attained a consummate mastery of the technology behind sexual companion chip transplantation. Notably, there are a staggering twenty-five specialized branches of surgeries available for Jonas to select from.

Mr. Jonas, being of a tender-hearted disposition and averse to witnessing others' suffering, finds himself somewhat reluctant to make the decision.

However, upon further reflection, after the completion of the chip implantation surgery, what was once a source of agony for Miss Regalia would transform into a source of delight, rendering his choice an act of benevolence.

Having effortlessly transcended that flexible moral boundary, Jonas finds his guilt dissipating into thin air.

It is often said that virtuous deeds yield favorable outcomes, and true to form, following Jonas' decision, the chief surgeon responsible for the chip implantation surgery brings him tidings of good fortune.

Miss Regalia possesses exceptional physical resilience, sufficient to endure the endocrine disruptions caused by chip transplantation, with minimal risk of significant cerebral injury.

Naturally, while this constitutes welcome news for Jonas, for Miss Regalia, it signifies a heightened cost of resistance and a dwindling probability of success.

The more flawless the surgery, the higher the chip's compatibility... Yet, attempting to forcibly remove the chip could result in even graver repercussions.

In essence, the more successful the surgery, the more arduous it becomes for Miss Regalia to pose a threat to Jonas.

Unless the maiden's latent spirit awakens, she shall forever remain ensnared within Jonas' grasp.

Of course, endowed with the prescient advantage, Jonas is acutely aware of Miss Regalia's latent spiritual potential. Therefore, his objective is simply to secure her genuine allegiance before she manages to liberate herself from the chip's constraints.

Though it may sound formidable, in reality...

A wry smile curls upon Jonas' lips as he gazes upon the operating room before him, now in a state of surgical commencement. Suddenly, a phrase springs forth from the depths of his consciousness.

"Embrace your rebirth, Miss Regalia."

........

In her befuddled state of mind, it felt as though someone had forcibly wedged a lump of rice cake, causing all the faculties within her brain to adhere together, rendering coherent thought a tumultuous endeavor.

Various parts of her body were besieged by peculiar sensations, with even the gentlest breeze eliciting involuntary tremors. Never before had Miss Regalia felt so vulnerable. The sensation, akin to something attempting to infiltrate her skin through her pores, left her profoundly uneasy.

The maiden found herself ensnared within an interminable dream. Surrounding her was an abyss of chaotic, yellowish seas, suffused with a viscous texture that stifled her breath. Gradually, the air around her melded with the enigmatic liquid, culminating in a desperate yearning for even the simplest act of respiration.

Her body grew increasingly fervent, as though the liquid were effecting a metamorphosis upon her physique, her limbs, her trunk, her cerebrum, her consciousness...

"This is utterly dire," ruminated Miss Regalia involuntarily.

Though cognizant of her dream state, she found herself incapable of mustering the focus necessary to shatter its confines.

It was the most harrowing dream she had ever experienced.

As if coerced into submission, her subconscious incessantly urged her, promising liberation upon capitulation, extolling the most sublime sensations achievable in this world upon surrender.

Miss Regalia was sorely tempted to relinquish control, yet she faintly apprehended that once she acquiesced, there might be no returning.

Thus, the dream descended into a protracted stalemate.

The opaque liquid, akin to an ocean, seemed to engulf her. Initially, it merely impeded her respiration, but subsequently, her entire being grew feverish, with the tingling sensation originating from her soles gradually diffusing throughout her entire frame.

In short order, the tingling evolved into an itch, as if predestined, plunging her consciousness further into disarray.

She found herself increasingly powerless against the voice within her subconscious, as the tingling and itching threatened to fracture her consciousness entirely.

"Surrender to the yearnings of your innermost desires, and liberation shall be yours."

This sudden ideation gradually commandeered her entire consciousness.

As though the utterance of those two words could halt this seemingly interminable torment in its tracks.

Gradually succumbing to the inexorable, the viscous liquid surrounding her stifled her attempts to vocalize.

"Master... gurgle"

With scarcely a word uttered, the viscous fluid inundated her oral and nasal passages.

A saccharine, adhesive sensation pervaded the interstices between her lips, tongue, and nostrils, momentarily obfuscating the demarcation between reality and illusion.

She could only endeavor once more to articulate those two words.

"Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, gurgle"

As if sensing the maiden's consciousness, the liquid that previously obstructed her oral and nasal passages began to recede, while the surrounding fluid ebbed away like a tide.

In a matter of mere seconds, a spherical void coalesced around Miss Regalia.

Thanks to this fortuitous development, she parted her lips and resumed respiration.

And finally, the maiden found herself capable of adhering once more to the volition contained within her subconscious, uttering those two words.

"Master, human—"

The dream fragmented like glass, and the liquid fully dissipated, allowing her consciousness to emerge from its stupor.

The wind from outside wafted into the sickroom, prompting Miss Regalia to sit upright in her sickbed. The events of her recent dream remained vivid in her mind, as she gasped for breath.

Despite feeling utterly bereft of strength, her brain imparted upon her a sensation akin to rebirth, with a glimmer of perplexity flickering within the maiden's eyes.

The pristine sickbed, the hanging drip by the window sill, the droplets by her side, and...

"Are you summoning me, Miss Regalia?"

A tranquil voice emanated from before her, whereupon a raven-haired gentleman sat at the bedside. Miss Regalia instinctively turned her gaze towards him, only to find herself on edge the next instant.

For seated before her was none other than the very individual responsible for her confinement.

—Jonas Weyten.