Chatbot Stalker

Worman slowly turns his head, staring at Dori without saying a word. His eyes are sharp, like he's thinking hard about something. The air between them feels heavy, full of tension, like something big is about to happen.

And then―

PPPPPFFFRRRTTTT TRRPPP PPFTT

A loud, wet-sounding fart rips through the silence.

Worman's eyes widen and he stands frozen for a moment before his hands shoot to his ass. "What the shrimp―" he gasps. "I think I just sh*t my pants."

His face twists in panic, and out of nowhere, he starts singing a strange, chinese song in a shaky, off-key voice as he hurries away, waddling like a penguin. 

Dori just stands there.

Silent.

Staring.

His face is completely blank as he watches Worman disappear into the night, still singing.

After a long pause, he drags a hand down his face, sighs, and mutters in a flat voice,

"..What the actual f*ck."

○○○

Later that evening, Dori steps out of the shower, steam drifting around him. A white towel hangs low on his hips, clinging to his skin, and water runs down his body, sliding over his collarbones, chest, and abs.

He runs a hand through his damp, tousled hair―and without bothering to dry off completely, he steps toward the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The screen lights up as he unlocks it, his wet fingers leaving faint smudges. He scrolls for a second, his expression unreadable, then taps on a contact.

Lifting the phone to his ear, he rests his other hand on his hip. Water still drips from his hair, sliding down his jaw and chest. The call connects, and after a moment of silence, he speaks, his voice low and cold.

"Why the f*ck weren't you picking up earlier? I called you multiple times."

On the other end, there's a brief shuffle, followed by a heavy sigh. Then, the voice of Chief Tanaka―Aren's boss at the station―finally comes through. "I-I know, I'm sorry," he stammers, "I was in a meeting. Couldn't step out."

"I don't give a f*ck about your damn meeting!" Dori snaps. "I told you to pick up when I call―and you know it's f*cking urgent when I call you more than once." He paces the room, his wet hair dripping onto the floor.

The chief tuts, clearly frustrated. "Look, I'm sorry, but I really couldn't answer. Just tell me what you need. What's so urgent?"

Dori stops pacing for a moment, and his hand tightens around the phone. "Did you just tut at me?" His voice drops low, simmering with anger, but then he lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Chief.. You're getting too comfortable lately. Why's that? It's almost like you forgot what's at stake here." He steps toward the mirror, watching his own reflection. "Ah.. wait, I get it. You actually did forget, didn't you? Guess that old age is kicking in, huh, Gramps?" He lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "Well, let me remind you then."

On the other end, Tanaka begins to sputter, "No, no.. Dori, I know, I didn't forget. I'm so sorry, I wasn't trying to―"

Dori cuts him off. "You see, I have this very.. interesting video." He leans closer to the mirror, a dark grin spreading across his face. "You remember that night, right? The one where you were screwing that woman who isn't your wife?"

"Please.. I'm sorry.." the chief apologizes again.

Dori pauses, but then, in a sickeningly mocking tone, he begins to mimic the chief's voice―the noises he made that night. "Ahh! Yeah! f*ck!" Dori groans, twisting his face in exaggerated pleasure. "God, baby, just like that! Mmm, so tight! Ohh, yeah, almost there! Yes, yes―!" His voice cracks, dragging out every embarrassing, humiliating sound until the act becomes so ridiculous that he has to break.