At first, it was only the shade.
The hosiery shifted lighter and lighter until Kafka's legs looked as though they were covered by an almost weightless veil—pale violet, barely there. Then the color deepened abruptly into a night-like purple, leaving only the faintest hints of skin at the joints and edges.
Next came the fit.
The fabric tightened in an instant, compressing with startling force—enough to visibly change the silhouette, as if her legs had been "sculpted" by pressure. A beat later, the tension released; comfort returned, and everything relaxed back into its natural softness.
Then the form began to change freely.
The waistband portion morphed, and the hosiery transitioned seamlessly into other styles—thigh-highs with ornate trim, then a shorter cut, then something as minimal as ankle length. Each transformation was smooth, instantaneous, and perfectly aligned with Kafka's intent.
That was when she discovered the more interesting function.
It didn't just obey her will.
She could designate it to respond to someone else's.
Kafka's eyes slid to Eisen, who had been watching with open amusement. With a flick of intent, she established a temporary "synchronization link" between him and the garment.
The moment the link locked in, the changes went wild.
Color cycled rapidly. Patterns layered on top of patterns. The surface behavior became so busy it was almost like a screen—restless, experimental, clearly driven by his taste and curiosity rather than hers.
And then Kafka felt the transformation push past what she considered acceptable.
She stiffened, reached back in reflex, and immediately understood what he'd done.
Eisen, meanwhile, looked entirely pleased with himself—hand on chin, eyes scanning as if evaluating a prototype.
"Excellent," he concluded, nodding. "Exactly as designed."
"Enough," Kafka said, shooting him a look.
For the first time that night, the composure on her face cracked into a genuine flush.
She cut the synchronization link hard.
Instantly, the garment reverted to its original, understated, elegant violet—calm again, obedient again.
To confirm everything still worked after being "converted" through the group, Kafka opened the chat-group shop and purchased a standard Word-Speech hosiery item. The one on her legs vanished and reappeared beside her. She put it on again and confirmed the transformation function remained intact—and no matter what it turned into, she could still clearly sense the underlying Word-Speech power.
With that, the compatibility test was complete.
Result: extremely satisfactory.
Kafka pulled on her short trousers, fastened the metal clasps, and returned to the crystal wardrobe. She took out the same asymmetrical tall boots as before and slipped them on with practiced grace.
Eisen's gaze, however, had drifted to the floor.
The old boots lay tipped on their side. From the opening, he could glimpse what Kafka had stuffed inside while changing—leftovers from the earlier swap, still holding a trace of "just now."
"What are you doing with those?" he asked casually, pointing. "Throwing them out?"
Kafka followed his gesture. She looked at the old footwear, saw the faint lingering warmth, and answered truthfully:
"Yes. With the wardrobe, I don't need the old set anymore."
Eisen's tone stayed light. "Then I'll take them?"
Kafka raised a brow and gave him a strange glance. She couldn't understand why he'd want something like that.
It was… a preference she didn't feel any need to unpack.
"If you want them, take them," she said with a shrug.
Eisen nodded with visible satisfaction and packed them away without comment.
"Come on," he said. "Let's not keep everyone waiting."
Kafka regained her usual calm and walked out first. Eisen followed half a step behind.
The door shut, sealing the remnants of the room's earlier atmosphere behind them.
The corridor to the Stellaron Hunters' meeting room wasn't long. Kafka's heels clicked with that same crisp rhythm—until, gradually, Eisen noticed the cadence change.
The steps became slower. The pauses between them stretched.
At the corner, Kafka stopped without warning.
Eisen halted too, confused.
Kafka turned.
The wall lights outlined her profile, but the smile on her lips carried a distinctly dangerous edge—pleasant on the surface, predatory underneath, as if she'd finally decided it was time to pin the truth to the floor.
"All right, Group Leader," she said softly.
"Now—explain."
She tilted her head slightly. The smile deepened. The pressure in the air doubled.
"Why did I… start acting so strangely just now?"
Standing there, Kafka couldn't ignore it anymore: changing in front of him, indulging his requests, even agreeing to something she normally wouldn't—
It wasn't normal.
Eisen broke into a sweat immediately.
He knew there was no bluffing his way out.
He lifted both hands in surrender and sighed.
"Fine. I'll explain. But… not out here."
So they turned back in silence and returned to Kafka's room.
The air purification indicator on the wall glowed soft green. The system was working at full efficiency; any lingering traces of the earlier "scene" had already been scrubbed away, leaving only cool, clean air.
Kafka's nose twitched almost imperceptibly, and she relaxed by a fraction.
She walked to the bed with flawless composure, sat with her legs crossed, and put on a gentle smile again—only now, back at the "crime scene," the smile felt even more oppressive.
Eisen sat opposite her on the sofa, hands placed neatly on his knees.
He cleared his throat and decided to be direct.
"In fact… every item that comes from the chat group inevitably carries its own… side effect."
Kafka's smile didn't change. Her eyes told him to continue.
Eisen pointed at himself.
"The item derived from my concept—sub-group leader authority—its side effect is this: it quietly amplifies what the user has been suppressing. Call it repression. Call it an instinctive desire kept on a leash by reason."
Kafka's smile finally vanished.
Her face went blank.
"So the chat group is going to become your personal harem?" she asked flatly.
"Cough—cough—cough!"
Eisen choked on the conclusion, waving his hands in a panic.
"Absolutely not! One of the core rules is that members are forbidden from harming each other in any form. The side effects—no matter what they are—can't directly force other members into anything!"
Kafka paused, genuinely thrown off.
Then she frowned, confusion clear in her eyes.
"Then what was that?"
If side effects couldn't directly act on other members, how could her behavior have shifted so noticeably—so permissive, so unlike herself?
Eisen inhaled slowly. His expression turned complicated.
"The reason might be… fear."
"Fear?" Kafka repeated, as if the word didn't quite fit her tongue.
"Yes. Fear."
Eisen met her gaze openly.
"I've always believed I'm equal to every member in essence. No one ranks above anyone else. But…"
He gave a self-mocking smile.
"They don't see it that way. I've met several of them now. No matter how natural, friendly, or composed they seem, I can still feel what's buried underneath."
He tapped his chest lightly.
"Fear—of power that's far beyond their understanding."
"And I don't believe Tsunade, raised in war, would be an exception."
He leaned back, voice tinged with a bitter humor.
"This is normal. People fear guns and artillery. The gap between me and them… is larger by orders of magnitude. With that kind of primal fear in play, their subconscious pushes me away, keeps me at a 'safe distance'—a distance where inappropriate thoughts don't even arise."
"And that distance is precisely what allows the chat group's protection mechanism to work perfectly."
He paused, then looked at Kafka—his eyes layered with admiration, and something quieter underneath.
"But you're different, Kafka."
"You lack fear by nature."
"You don't instinctively push me away. Which means… if both sides are willing to move closer—"
He chose his words carefully.
"Then, because the group respects member intent, it will temporarily withdraw that 'separation barrier.' And once the barrier is down, the side effect begins to seep in."
Eisen's gaze flicked toward the crystal wardrobe.
"When I gave you that wardrobe, you genuinely loved it. And that created a small—but real—positive shift in how you felt about me."
"That mutual willingness was enough. So the protection withdrew."
He spread his hands.
"And the result is exactly what you felt: we were both affected, to varying degrees."
Kafka listened in silence. Emotion rippled behind her eyes, then settled into a soft, troubled sigh.
The truth was subtler—and more troublesome—than she'd expected.
"Can that influence be removed?" she asked.
Eisen shook his head.
"No. It's part of the underlying logic that keeps the chat group functioning. If you forcibly strip it out, the whole foundation collapses."
Kafka lifted a hand and rubbed her temple.
If she let this run unchecked… sooner or later, lines would blur.
And the unsettling part was: she couldn't honestly claim she hated the idea.
The gift had been precious, practical, and perfectly aligned with her tastes. She had been happy—genuinely. And that happiness had sparked the faint goodwill he was talking about.
She acknowledged that.
But even if things were destined to drift that way in the end, the mechanism felt too blunt—too coercive in its timing.
A solution sat right in front of her.
The same one she'd always pursued:
Acquire fear.
Fear would rebuild the distance. Distance would reactivate the barrier. And the side effects would shrink until they were nearly irrelevant.
Everything would return to a controllable track.
But…
Should she do that?
Eisen—despite all his power—was probably lonely.
Kafka let out one more quiet sigh.
Forget it.
Let it happen naturally.
"Please keep following," she added at the end—half to him, half to the invisible audience that always seemed to be listening.
If you want, I can also give you a plot-only summary version (even cleaner, zero suggestive content) or keep doing these clean chapter translations for Chapter 50 onward in the same style.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 175)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 115)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 126)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter105)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter100)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter82)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter134)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 70
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 87
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 79
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass 64
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 73
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 45
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 49
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 45
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 45
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