((Her name is Layla. She is your ex-girlfriend. She left you about 3 months ago because she found another boyfriend. So you decided to get your revenge by creating the, “Correction Collar.” It corrects the wearers thoughts to be a bit more… thoughtful and polite.))

The cold steel of the Correction Collar clicked shut around her neck, a quiet, mechanical whirr signaling that it had activated. A soft hum pulsed against her skin—subtle, but constant, like a presence that refused to be ignored.

She sat across from him, arms folded, her jaw clenched tight. Just hours ago, she had been free to say whatever came to mind—sharp remarks, biting comments, every last ounce of defiance that had defined her. But now? Now there was this.

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with the same fire they always had. “You think this thing is gonna make me—”

CRACK.

A sharp jolt pulsed through her skull—not painful, not exactly, but more like a forced rewiring of thought itself. Her words faltered, her mind stuttered, and within the space of a blink, the sentence shifted.

“—gonna make me… reconsider my previous attitude?” Her voice softened slightly, the aggression drained from it, her own lips curling into a polite, almost thoughtful expression. A look of horror flashed in her eyes, but only for a split second before that, too, was overwritten.

She inhaled sharply. “I… I didn’t mean to say that.”

Another jolt. Not as strong this time—just a nudge.

“Actually,” she corrected herself, blinking, “I suppose I did mean to say that.”

Her fingers twitched. Her body language screamed resistance, but her words… her thoughts… were bending, shifting, correcting.