chapter 181 kicking

Cute Mist stared at Mack, eyes sharp. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but there was something deeper behind them. Frustration. Suspicion. And maybe, just maybe… hesitation.

She hated to admit it, but Mack wasn't an idiot.

At least, not all the time.

She took a deep breath and finally asked, "…How did you guess?"

Mack's smirk widened.

His hands slid into his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels like he had all the time in the world. Then, after a few seconds, he lazily shrugged.

"Hmm… I'll tell you—"

He took a step back, just out of reach.

Then, with the most maddening grin she had ever seen, he continued,

"—if you allow me to call you Flat-Chested Girl."

Silence.

The air between them shifted.

Cute Mist blinked.

Her fingers twitched.

Her aura darkened.

"…What?"

Mack, completely unfazed, raised an eyebrow. "You heard me."

He crossed his arms, acting like he had just made a completely reasonable deal. "It's a fair trade, don't you think? You get your answer, and I get to keep my favorite nickname."

Cute Mist's eye twitched so violently it could probably be classified as a natural disaster.

She exhaled. Slowly.

Then, without a word—

She lunged.

BAM!

Her foot connected with Mack's gut, sending him flying into the bushes.

Leaves exploded into the air. Twigs snapped.

Somewhere in the chaos, a very pained groan escaped.

"THAT'S NOT A NOOOO—"

THUD.

The sound of Mack crashing into the ground echoed through the trees.

Cute Mist dusted off her hands, standing tall. "Stop calling me that, you brainless fool!"

The bushes rustled weakly.

Then, from deep within the leaves, Mack's pained voice groaned out—

"…That's not a no…"

Cute Mist's eye twitched again.

She took a slow step forward.

The bushes rustled harder.

"WAIT, WAIT, I WAS JOKING—"

The bushes trembled violently as Mack struggled to sit up, his once-smug grin completely erased.

Leaves stuck in his hair. His clothes were covered in dirt. And most importantly…

Cute Mist was raising her leg.

High.

Very high.

The kind of high that promised instant death if he didn't answer correctly.

Her foot hovered directly above his face, her stance steady, her expression unreadable. But her eyes?

Her eyes burned with the fury of a thousand storms.

"I'll ask you one more time."

Mack gulped.

She tilted her head, her voice dangerously slow. "How. Did. You. Guess?"

Mack's eyes darted between her and her raised foot.

Sweat pooled at his temples.

He knew. Oh, he knew.

If he said the wrong thing, he was done.

Not injured. Not hurt.

Dead.

Completely, utterly, unquestionably DEAD.

His brain screamed at him to answer correctly.

But his mouth?

His traitorous mouth had other plans.

"…C-Can I still call you—"

BAM!

A merciless kick crashed down on him, smashing him straight into the dirt.

Mack let out a strangled wheeze, his body convulsing like a dying insect.

His soul practically left his body.

"…H-Help… me…" he croaked weakly, his limbs twitching.

Cute Mist loomed over him, cracking her knuckles.

"Wrong answer."

Mack's eyes shot open in horror.

Because she was lifting her leg again.

Higher.

Stronger.

FASTER.

Mack instantly regretted every decision he had ever made in life.

He didn't even get time to beg—

Because the next kick was coming.

Mack lay sprawled on the ground, his body aching, his dignity shattered, his will to resist crushed into dust.

His clothes were torn and dirty. His face? Caked in mud and regret.

Above him, Cute Mist towered victoriously.

Her foot hovered menacingly over his ribs, the threat of another devastating kick looming in the air.

Her expression?

Smug. Satisfied. Absolutely merciless.

"Last chance, Mack," she purred, tilting her head slightly. "Say the magic words."

Mack's soul was already halfway to the afterlife.

But his body?

His traitorous, cowardly, self-preserving body refused to let him die like this.

He had two choices.

1. Stand his ground and get kicked into next week.

2. Submit and live.

…It wasn't even a real choice.

Mack's lips trembled. His pride screamed at him to fight back.

But his survival instincts had fully given up.

After a long, painful sigh, he finally forced the words out,

"…O-Okay. I will… y-you… M-Mistress Cute Mist."

Silence.

The world itself seemed to pause.

Then—

Cute Mist's entire face lit up.

Her eyes sparkled. Her grin widened in delight.

Her hands went to her hips as she tilted her chin up proudly. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Mack stared blankly at the sky.

He had lost.

Not just the fight. Not just the argument.

His very spirit had been defeated.

At that moment, he was no longer Mack, the free man.

He was Mack, the broken.

The Mack who once had a future, a purpose, and a dream… but now had only one title.

Mack, the servant of Mistress Cute Mist.

She giggled to herself, nodding approvingly. "Good. Keep that attitude, and you just might survive."

Mack closed his eyes.

His dignity was gone.

His resistance was dead.

And worst of all…

He knew he would never live this down.

Mack sat up slowly, still rubbing the dirt off his face, his body aching from the series of brutal kicks he had just endured.

Cute Mist, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently, stared down at him like a ruler deciding whether to deliver another punishment.

Her victorious smirk hadn't faded yet.

But then—

Mack smirked back.

A dangerous smirk.

Cute Mist's eyebrows twitched. "What?"

Mack stretched his arms behind his head, leaning back with the air of someone who was about to drop something big.

"Mistress Cute Mist," he said smoothly. "Do you remember the day I joined Rainbow Solutions?"

Her expression didn't change. "Why?"

Mack's smirk widened.

"The day I joined, the elders mocked you."

Her fingers tightened into fists.

"They laughed at your decision to support a 'brainless girl.'" He sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "A good negotiator, sure… but a total noob when it came to gaming."

Silence.

Then—

BAM!

A devastating kick slammed into Mack's side, sending him rolling several feet like a discarded sack of potatoes.

Mack yelped, tumbling into a pile of leaves. "GAH! OW! STOP—"

"DON'T. BRING. THAT. UP!" Cute Mist roared, her entire face turning bright red.

Mack groaned, clutching his ribs. "Y-You're proving them right, Mistress! Abusing your only follower!"

Cute Mist's eyes twitched dangerously.

Mack immediately regretted speaking.

BAM!

Another ferocious kick came flying toward him, but this time Mack rolled just in time, narrowly dodging it.

He scrambled to his feet, holding his hands up in surrender. "H-Hey, calm down! It's just history, right?"

"SHUT UP!" Cute Mist lunged, her foot swinging at him with full force.

Mack ducked, barely missing the attack.

But he was grinning.

Because for all her rage, for all her attacks…

She wasn't denying it.