I… What on earth have I done?!

That slap left me drowning in guilt. Staring into Xiao Ke'er’s angelically gentle eyes, I nearly broke down in tears.

Gods, Buddha, God, Jesus, Allah—I am guilty. I repent. Please forgive me.

I hugged her back, holding her soft, delicate frame tightly, my body trembling as I fought to hold back tears and remorse.

She adjusted her arms into the most comfortable embrace, her voice weary yet understanding. “Ke'er is starting to get it… Sister Xi Xi must’ve suffered so much humiliation from the Young Mistress, right?”

Yeah… teased in the photo studio, disciplined in the restroom… the square? Well, that barely counts as shame, does it?

I began to relax, regret swelling deeper with every breath. I’d mistaken her for a spoiled rich girl. But after our heart-to-heart, after baring our souls… I genuinely started liking this little girl.

“The fault was Ke'er’s,” she whispered. “I threatened Sister Xi Xi just for fun… So… will you forgive me?”

An angel!

“No—it’s *I* who should beg *your* forgiveness. I’m such a damn bastard…”

“If sadistic Sister Xi Xi is a bastard… then Ke'er, who enjoys being disciplined… isn’t she the real pervert?”

“Huh!?” I blinked up at Xiao Ke'er, panic tightening my throat. “L-Liking being disciplined? *You*, Ke'er?”

“I’ve fallen for Xi Xi… and for *you*—no, for how *Master* disciplines Ke'er, your little puppy…”

Huh?

She’d poured every ounce of courage into those words. Then, eyes shimmering with hope and plea, she wrapped her legs around my waist. “Let’s continue, Master… I—Ke'er, your little puppy—have started craving the sting of your hand on my bottom…”

Wait—*you’re* a masochist!?

A chill crept up my spine. But Xiao Ke'er pressed closer, breath hitching with excitement. “You *do* like Ke'er, right, Master? You’re a high school girl… yet a perverted lolicon. Ke'er’s a shameless masochist. We’re *made* for each other, aren’t we?”

“No! I’m *not* a lolicon!”

“Liar! Master loves yuri *and* lolicon! So practice with Ke'er—become a proper masochist! Then when the Young Mistress disciplines Master Xi Xi… we can *both* be her good little puppies!”

Nope. This is spiraling. *Way* too perverted.

If I keep corrupting Xiao Ke'er’s heart like this… Xiao Qingqing will *kill* me.

I scrambled to pull away—but Xiao Ke'er caught my wrist, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Huh? Sister Xi Xi… doesn’t want to be Ke'er’s Master?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then Ke'er won’t hold back. This chance is too precious. Since Sister Xi Xi refuses… *you’ll* become Ke'er’s little puppy instead!”

What kind of plot twist is *this*?!

Before I could react, her legs rubbed restlessly against my skin. She seized my shoulders, shoved hard—and flipped us. Now *she* straddled *me*.

“Ke'er loves Xi Xi… but if Xi Xi won’t be Master… then Sister Xi Xi *must* become Ke'er’s little pet!”

“Ke'er—no, stop…”

“Love is conquest and possession, Sister Xi Xi. You *know* that. And if you don’t… Ke'er will *make* you understand.”

She reached under the pillow—and pulled out something that froze my blood.

“This—?!”

“A dog collar~ The *exact* same model as the Young Mistress’s! I ordered it online.”

Of *course* I recognized it!

“But *why* do you have—?!”

“Ke'er owns *everything* the Young Mistress has—and I meant it~ I copy her diary daily. I collect every love letter she’s ever received. Even her discarded underwear from the past two years… I fished them from the trash. Kept them safe~”

Xiao Ke'er… you’ve become a full-blown pervert! *Please*—go back to being the pure, innocent loli in my heart!

Bitter despair screamed inside me as she lunged forward, eyes blazing with frantic excitement, the collar aimed at my neck.

“If Sister Xi Xi won’t discipline Ke'er… then Ke'er will discipline *Sister Xi Xi*!”

Wait—what twisted logic is *this*? Do elementary schoolers really think like this?!

Honestly—I’ve *never* faced a demand this outrageous. It means… if I refuse to be the sadist… I *become* the masochist.

I felt like I was driving a brakeless car toward a dead end. Swerve left—crush an innocent cockroach on the crosswalk. Swerve right—trample the city’s flowers. An utterly impossible choice—