Master smiled. Not a cruel smile. The smile of a lock finally clicking.
"The confession is only the first step," he said. "You’ve named the theft. Now you have to return what you stole."
The booth’s air grew thick. Master didn’t blink. mind under master – kylie quinn – confession
Kylie picked up the pen. Her hand only shook for a moment.
"Because my mind isn’t my own anymore. It’s full of contracts and lies and the sound of my own name said by people who hate me. I thought fame was the master. Then I thought money was. But they’re just... landlords. You’re the first person I’ve paid to tell the truth to ." Master smiled
"I lied about the album," she whispered.
Master tilted his head. "Which part?"
The silence that followed was absolute. Somewhere in the club above, a bass thrummed, but down here, in the velvet booth, there was only the sound of a woman deciding whether to die as a lie or live as a wrecked, honest thing.