Read Novel Full Chapter 924: Plans For Yuko’s Guilt Trip
Chapter 924: Plans For Yuko’s Guilt Trip
"I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I love you—I hate that I love you—but I do—I do—don’t die—don’t make me live knowing I did this—please—Jack—!"
When the paramedics finally burst into the alley, she still wouldn’t release me at first—clinging, sobbing, begging them not to take me away.
They had to gently, firmly pry her arms loose while she screamed, "No—no—he needs me—he needs me!" Tears streamed endlessly as they loaded me onto the stretcher.
She climbed into the ambulance right beside me, never once letting go of my hand, her other palm still hovering uselessly over the knife as if she could will the blood to stop. The whole ride, she cried—great, heaving, shattered sobs—whispering over and over:
"I’m sorry... I’m sorry... please don’t die... I can’t... I can’t lose you like this... Jack... please..."
Back at the hospital, once I was wheeled into the ICU and the doors sealed, the performance ended.
Healing factor surged—wound vanishing in seconds, blood drying and flaking away as if it had never been. I controlled the staff with effortless telepathic commands: Stable. Superficial wound only. He’ll wake soon. Keep the family calm. No visitors yet.
Then I teleported home—still in the bloodstained hospital gown for effect—straight to Marina’s bedroom.
When Marina and Julie slipped inside moments later, I told them about the situation. Julie took one look at me—perfectly unharmed, smug as hell—and burst into delighted, wicked laughter.
Julie burst out laughing—low, delighted, covering her mouth.
"Husband... you are so bad," she purred, stepping close to trail a finger down my chest where the "wound" had been. "Playing with that poor girl’s heart like that... she’s going to be absolutely shattered when she thinks she killed you. And then when you come back ’alive’... god, the guilt and relief are going to wreck her."
I chuckled, catching Julie’s wrist and pulling her in for a quick, possessive kiss before turning to Marina.
"Marina," I said, voice dropping to that calm, commanding tone they both knew meant business. "I need you and Julie to go to the hospital right now. Find Yuko—she’ll be in the waiting area, probably a mess. Explain everything to her. Tell her the truth about your past."
Marina nodded slowly, already understanding.
"Tell her how Tony was harassing you, stalking you, making your life hell. How your grandmother kept pushing you toward him because of old family promises. How I stepped in—faked being your boyfriend in front of everyone, especially your grandmother, just to get you out of that pressure. How, once we were away from here, you met Julie... and the two of you fell in love. Hard."
I glanced at Julie, smirking. "She’s already seen the proof—remember that little ’performance’ you two put on when she walked in that one time? Use it. Tell her it wasn’t an act. That you’re together. That I was never your lover—just your protector, your friend. That everything with Haruna and Yuko was real on my end. No lies there."
Marina and Julie exchanged a glance, their cheeks flushing a deep pink as the reality of the situation sank in. Marina reached out first, playfully pinching my arm while Julie mirrored her on the other side.
"Whose fault was this, hmm?" Marina teased, her voice a mix of accusation and fondness. "You made her misunderstand everything... about us being lesbian."
I chuckled low, the sound rumbling in my chest.
Without warning, I delivered a firm, resounding slap to each of their asses—hard enough to make the flesh jiggle and leave a warm sting.
They both yelped in perfect unison, half-laughing, half-gasping, hands flying back to rub the spot.
"Okay, okay," I said, smirking as I pulled them both closer for a quick, possessive squeeze. "Now you’re teasing your husband. Enough. Go do your part."
Marina rubbed her backside with exaggerated pout. "Fine... but we already feel so sad for Sister Yuko. She’s not going to forgive herself for hurting you. Ever. And once she realizes you’re alive and well..." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "...then husband can do whatever he wants with poor, guilt-ridden Yuko. She’ll be so desperate to make it up to you."
Julie nodded, biting her lip. "She’ll be putty in your hands. All that anger, all that regret... it’s going to flip into something very... needy."
I grinned wider, gave each of them one last playful swat, then stepped back.
"Alright. I’m heading back. You two go to the hospital now. When Yuko asks how you knew to come, tell her you called my phone—it was picked up by hospital staff who said I’d been brought in after an ’accident’ with a knife. Keep it simple. Act worried. Sell it."
They both nodded solemnly, though the glint in their eyes betrayed how much they were enjoying the game.
I focused—and teleported straight back to the ICU.
The moment I materialized on the bed (still in the hospital gown), I beckoned the nearest doctor over with a subtle mental nudge.
"Bandage me up," I instructed quietly. "Wrap my face—make it look bad. Bruises, cuts, swelling. And wrap my chest thickly around where the knife went in. Layers. Make it dramatic. Even though there’s not a scratch left."
The doctor—eyes slightly glassy from my telepathic influence—nodded mechanically and got to work. Gauze, medical tape, adhesive wraps.
By the time he finished thirty minutes later, I looked like I’d been through hell: face half-hidden under white bandages, one eye swollen shut beneath the padding, chest heavily bound like a mummy. Perfect theater.
"Shift me to the private ward now," I told him. "I’ll play unconscious. Monitor me, but don’t let anyone disturb me yet."
The gurney rolled out of the ICU. I lay perfectly still, breathing shallow and even, eyes closed. Through telekinesis, I could sense every movement in the hallway; through my enhanced "AI Lens" vision (eyes shut but perception wide open), I watched everything.
Yuko was still in the waiting area—curled in a plastic chair, knees drawn up, face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. Dried blood still stained her shirt, her hands, her thighs. She looked small, broken.