My Harem of Dangerous and Crazy Women as a Reincarnated Necromancer

Once Rebecca finally disappeared down the stairs and the hallway fell silent, Mary felt the tension start to drain out of her.

She sank down little by little, until she was curled up over her own knees, and buried her face in her hands.

She’d done it.

She’d really done it.

And there was no going back now.

Those thoughts kept looping through her head, hammering at her without pause.

Until just a few minutes ago, no matter how complicated the situation, there had still been some path forward.

She could have let Rebecca leave without saying a word, pretended none of this had ever happened, and later tried to approach Mark honestly, start from zero, build something real, patiently.

Difficult, sure, but possible.

Now, though, all those doors had slammed shut.

With what she’d just done, with the lie she’d just planted, there was no clean future left with Mark.

Sooner or later, the truth would come out.

Rebecca might come back, or Mark might discover what had happened on his own, and when that happened, everything would collapse.

The only sensible thing left to do was disappear from Mark’s life for a while, maybe forever.

And it wasn’t just fear of the consequences making her think that.

It was, above all, about herself.

Because there was something that terrified her far more than getting caught.

Something that made her stomach turn just to admit, but that she couldn’t deny no matter how hard she tried.

Mary knew, with total clarity, that what she’d just done was twisted, sick, and cruel in a way that had no justification whatsoever.

She’d ripped the hope away from a woman who hadn’t done a single thing to her.

And yet, she couldn’t deny that she’d enjoyed it with every fiber of her being.

Watching Rebecca suffer, watching that beautiful, perfect woman crumble under her words, had given her a dark, dizzying satisfaction unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

For years, Mary had known the role of the victim far too well.

She knew what it was like to take blows, endure humiliation, cry silently when no one was around.

But that morning had been different.

For once, she’d held the power.

She had been the one choosing the words, watching each one find its mark and do damage.

And though she knew she should feel guilty, the truth was far more unpleasant.

She’d liked it.

Mary slowly lowered her hands, and a question began forming inside her.

Why couldn’t she stop smiling?

She touched her fingers to her lips and confirmed what she already suspected.

Ever since Rebecca had left, Mary had had a smile plastered to her face.

As the minutes passed, the tension started aching in her cheeks, reminding her just how unaccustomed she was to smiling for this long.

And even though she tried with all her might to stop every time she remembered the look on Rebecca’s face before she left, the smile kept coming back just as easily.

She stayed like that for a while, curled up on the floor, smiling despite herself, until she finally found the strength to get up.

”Guess you were right after all, Mom...” Mary murmured, her voice hollow, as she brushed off her clothes. ”You always said it, didn’t you?... That I was broken and rotten inside.”

She let out a hollow laugh.

”...Suppose you got that one right, for once.”

And with that thought circling in her head, Mary started walking back to her apartment, one floor down.

When she opened the door to her home, her mother was already waiting for her.

She lay sprawled comfortably on the couch, bottle in hand, and the moment she saw Mary walk in, a satisfied smile crossed her face.

”Well, well, well... look who’s back,” she said mockingly. ”Knew you’d come crawling back sooner or later. What happened, huh? Your little boyfriend realize you’re good for nothing except a quick fuck?”

She let out a cruel laugh.

”Honestly, doesn’t surprise me... You’re only good for getting fucked, and you’re barely worth much even for that.”

Mary didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at her with rage, or with hurt, the way she would have on any other day.

She simply crossed the threshold in silence, her face strangely calm.

”Can I come in?” she asked, her voice flat.

Her mother raised an eyebrow, a little thrown by the lack of reaction, but quickly recovered her usual look of contempt.

”Well of course, my dear daughter,” she replied, dripping with mockery. ”But if you’re staying, it’s going to be on my terms. And I’m not repeating them, so listen up good.”

She sat up a little on the couch, savoring the moment.

”First: you never see that guy again, and don’t even think about going up to that floor again,” she began, counting on her fingers. ”Second: you’ll do everything I say, when I say it, no complaints. No more talking back to me.”

”...”

”And third: you’ll bring me whatever alcohol I ask for... If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

She smiled, waiting for the protest, the tears, the usual pleading.

”Well? What do you say?”

But Mary didn’t protest.

”...Fine,” she said, without even looking at her. ”I accept.”

Her mother’s smile faltered.

”...What?”

”I said I accept,” Mary repeated, with the same hollow calm. ”I won’t see him again. I’ll do whatever you tell me. I’ll bring you your alcohol. Whatever you want.”

She shrugged.

”Can I go to my room now?”

Her mother stared at her in silence, clearly thrown off.

She’d been so certain Mary would fight back, that there would be tears, pleading, some kind of tantrum that would give her an excuse to keep humiliating her.

That calm, emotionless acceptance was nothing like what she’d expected, and for a moment she didn’t know how to react.

”...Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” she said finally, waving a hand irritably. ”Get out of my sight.”

Mary nodded, and without another word, crossed the room and shut herself in her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

Her mother stared at the closed door for a long while, the bottle forgotten in her hand, brow furrowed.

”...What the hell is wrong with this crazy bitch?”, she finally muttered, taking a long swig from the bottle. ”Did that guy fuck her that bad?”