Ultimate Spin System: Ero Spin?-Chapter 28 - Rough

Lucas froze in place, his brain scrambling to process the situation that had shifted so drastically. On one hand, the sweetness of Cinthya’s brownies still lingered on his tongue; on the other, Evelyn was now sitting on his couch, staring at him with eyes that could melt steel.

"Lucas?" Evelyn’s soft, teasing voice shattered his daze.

Lucas swallowed hard, trying to mask his rising desire with a neutral expression. "Evelyn... are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, your husband—"

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, her smile sharpening. "Lucas, darling. If I was worried about my husband, I wouldn’t be here right now."

Her words hit Lucas like a wave of heat.

---

Meanwhile, in an apartment nearby—once home to a young couple who argued all the time—Cinthya sat on the cold floor of her small, silent space. Her back rested against the icy wall. The black mask still covered most of her face, even though she was completely alone. Her arms wrapped around her knees, her blank gaze fixed on the dull wooden floor.

"Why did I almost say it? Why did I nearly tell Lucas my real name?"

Lucas—the cheerful neighbor with rainbow-colored hair who seemed so carefree. He looked like someone who might understand her, or at least, not judge her. He seemed ’open-minded,’ someone who normalized the abnormal. But Cinthya knew better than to fall for such illusions.

---

A Few Years Ago

It all started with a decision made in the dead of night. Cinthya—or Cindy, as her real name went—stared at her face on the screen of an old laptop with a cheap webcam. The black mask had been there from the beginning—a shield between her and the world. At first, she thought the mask would be the reason no one would care about her, why no one would watch her streams.

But she was wrong.

Even with her face covered, her body was still visible on screen. Men in the chat immediately focused on the part of her body that had always made her uncomfortable—her chest.

"Cindy, wear something tighter tomorrow!"

"I love your style, Cindy. But could you show a bit more?"

"No need to remove the mask, your body’s already keeping us entertained."

The comments flooded the screen every time she went live. At first, Cinthya felt disgusted, angry. But then she realized something: those comments came with donations. The longer she stayed on screen, the more money trickled into her account.

"I’m stupid. I’m useless. I can’t even talk without stuttering. But... my body? They like that."

She felt degraded, like she had no value beyond what people could see on the surface. But at the same time, the money from those streams paid her bills, bought her food, and kept a roof over her head. It was a bitter choice, but it was the only one she had.

No special skills, no higher education, no support from anyone.

For months, she did everything alone. Managing a Disgord server with tens of thousands of members, handling small sponsorship deals that occasionally came her way, and editing her own video clips to post on other platforms.

But the bigger her name got, the bigger the risks became.

One night, after returning home from buying food, she found a small package in front of her apartment door. There was no sender, just a slip of paper that read:

"I know where you live, Cindy. See you on your next livestream."

Her blood ran cold as she read the note. When she opened the package, she found a piece of pink lingerie—the kind she often wore on her streams.

That night, Cinthya couldn’t sleep. She sat in the corner of her room with a kitchen knife in hand, staring at the door with wide, terrified eyes.

A few days later, she decided to move. With the money she had—enough to buy a luxury house in the suburbs—she instead chose a small apartment in an old building that no one paid much attention to.

"If this place is hidden and grimy, maybe they won’t find me here."

She erased all traces of her old address, changed all her personal information, and even blocked some moderators she had once trusted but who had started asking too many questions about her private life.

From that day forward, trust was something she no longer possessed.

---

Back to the Present

Her laptop was still glowing on the small table in the corner of her room. Her Disgord server remained bustling, notifications pinging endlessly, but she no longer had the energy to reply to each one.

"Why am I still doing this? I have enough money to retire. But if I stop... what happens to me? Who am I without this mask, without the screen separating me from the world?"

Cinthya stood up and walked slowly to her window, peeking out.

"He looks... normal. Happy. Even with that rainbow-colored hair, he looks like someone who belongs in this world."

Meanwhile, she, behind this mask, was just someone constantly hiding—from the outside world, from her fans, even from herself.

She touched the black mask covering her face.

"Lucas... would you still smile like that if you knew who I really am? If you knew I’m just a foolish girl using her body to survive in this world?"

But she already knew the answer. No one truly cared. People only cared as long as she gave them what they wanted—whether it was content on the screen or the fantasies they built around her.

---

Cinthya turned on her laptop again, checked her server’s security, and blocked a few suspicious accounts. Her hands moved automatically over the keyboard, as if she had become a machine programmed to do this.

In one of the tabs, someone sent a private message:

[Fan]: Cindy, you know... you don’t have to wear the mask. I’m sure you’re beautiful without it.

She closed the chat window immediately, a dull ache spreading in her chest. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that, but still—words like that cut deep.

"No, I can’t take this mask off. It’s the only thing that makes me feel safe."

Cinthya slowly closed her laptop, and her tiny room fell silent again. She lay down on the couch, her mask still firmly in place.

Behind that mask, her silent tears began to fall.

---

Meanwhile, Our MC Lucas, the Level 2 Crook...

He felt his blood starting to boil as he sat next to Evelyn.

’Damn it, why am I nervous?’ Lucas muttered to himself. ’Where’s the Lucas who once slapped another man’s wife with his cock?’

Meanwhile, Evelyn slowly leaned closer to Lucas. "You’re such a strange man. I can’t tell if you’re innocent or perverted. But... I think I’ll have my answer tonight."

She whispered those words softly, her breath warm against his ear.

Lucas swallowed hard.