As I stare flabbergasted at the outlandish display by the retard guard's Commander, a girl wearing a majorette's costume including the top hat, marches up carrying a drum. The drum begins to trill as the majorette begins to tap it rhythmically in time with the Commander's urging me to swear the oath. 

"Could you guys back up a little?" I say while slowly edging away, "Its getting a little cramped here."

"Transmigrator, something is very wrong here." The Voice rasps, "I am referencing ORPO patrol records. ORPO had sent a force of their shock troopers and mecha to compel the residents here to submit. None of the officers returned."

"C'mon, just swear!" the Commander gasps as the red thread on his throat continues to strangle him, "Its not that difficult, and it would make things easier for everyone!" The majorette marches in place next to us, the relentless tempo of her drum growing. 

"Unless you're actually an enemy?" Peter Pan scowls, his hand going back to the machete at his waist, "You wouldn't have a problem swearing the oath if you got nothing to hide."

A dry, wrinkled hand clasps Peter Pan's shoulder and squeezes hard. An old man, emaciated with age and buried under the mass of football gear clearly sized for a quarterback, gently restrains the youth and nods at me with barely concealed desperation. The old man makes a vague gesture at me with the billy club in his other hand, his eyes imploring me to just take the oath and get it over with. And just under the his helmet's chinstrap is that sinister red thread, cutting into the senior citizen's throat. 

The majorette gives me a nasty look as she moves to my rear, preventing me from backing away from the retard guard, all the while banging away on her drum. That's when I notice it. 

There's no red thread against the majorette's throat. Neither is there a trace of crimson on Peter Pan. I take a closer look at the other members of the retard guard. There's a pimply kid dressed up as an adventurer from a fantasy novel. And another girl in some kind of fairy getup complete with plastic wings. And one of the boys LARPing as a soldier. 

None of them have the red thread on their throats. 

The same can't be said for the adults. The Commander and the old man are gasping and wheezing thanks to the influence of the red thread. There's a middle aged housewife listlessly brandishing a cleaver while trying to stay on her feet. Then there's a young but working age man with his blond hair gelled and done up in spikes, scratching away at his throat as if it had been afflicted with an invisible rash. 

"Look, I know how this looks." the Commander holds his palms out while sweating profusely, "But this is really the best for everybody."

I didn't spot any red thread on Delinquent while he was being questioned, but the servant had clearly gotten her claws into him. The retard guard are clearly under Celeste's influence, but only the adults are straining against the red thread. Does that mean that the teenagers are all happily going along with what the servant wants of them? 

"Ross," Spikes whispers hoarsely, "Just let that guy through and tell us to disperse. I need to get to work. I need to get to work. Please, let me go to work."

"Ah ... ah," the Commander gurgles breathlessly, "I ... I can't make an exception for anyone, you know that Ty. The sooner our visitor cooperates, the faster you can leave."

The old man looks imploringly at me from the depths of his helmet, "Help us out here son. Its just a few words!"

"You do this with everyone who visits?" I question the Commander, trying to buy some time to think things through. 

Peter Pan shouts from the rear, "Stop stalling! Commander, tell us to attack!" This time Spikes is the one who restrains the brat with the help of the old guy. 

The Commander's bugged out eyes are by now completely bloodshot as he says, "All visitors must perform the crossing. No exceptions."

"No exceptions." the majorette grumbles from behind me, disapproval dripping from every word. 

Should I just beat these guys up and be done with it? From what I can tell, none of the retard guard are particularly powerful. I could solo the whole bunch of them easily. But then I remember The Voice's warning about what happened to the ORPO shock troopers that showed up at this neighborhood. The ORPO officers weren't just sent packing, they outright disappeared. The retard guard must have some kind of ace up their sleeve that allowed them to defeat trained police officers backed up with mecha. Something the so-called elites of SOPO weren't able to do. 

I activate matter sense and probe the surroundings for any clues that may help.  And somewhere deep within the estate, I sense something. Abandoned mecha suits piled high in someone's flat. I feverishly send out probes searching for the bodies of the ORPO officers, but don't find anything. The retard guard must have disposed of the corpses already. 

"Your kingdom sits within the jurisdiction of the P5." I protest to the Commander, "You have no right to bar my passage."

The Commander smiles uncomfortably but its the majorette that answers me. 

"This is the Kingdom of Love." she says, "You will follow our laws here, stranger." As she speaks, the drumming grows steadily louder and the spiritual cores of the retard guard begin to pulse in harmony with the beat. Although individually weak, the cores begin to pool their output, creating a field that encompasses the entire void deck. I sense the field exert a gentle pressure against me, not exactly malicious, but certainly carrying an implied warning. 

Shit. A battle formation, like what the Judecca Militia had been packing. Things might be getting nasty soon.

The Commander steps forward and mutters urgently to me, "I can't hold the royal guard back for much longer. For your own sake, just swear!"

"Swear." Peter Pan says.

"Swear." the housewife barks. 

"Swear." Spikes babbles, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

"Swear." the majorette demands. 

"SWEAR!" the entire retard guard roars to the heavens. 

The gentle pressure of the spiritual field amplifies to an avalanche of force, taking me by surprise and forcing me to my knees. A sick sensation begins to flow into me, filling me up to the brim. 

"Transmigrator," The Voice rasps in alarm, "I detect a foreign entity intruding into your spiritual space and feeding you a set of malicious directives. You must resist."

Malicious directives? Delinquent going into his epileptic fit comes to mind. Was this how the retard guard dealt with the ORPO unit? Brainwashing them into submission? My head pounds as an influx of alien information is being forcibly rammed into it. Tears run from my eyes as my stomach heaves in protest. My mouth begins to work without my instruction. I quickly clamp it shut and grit my teeth, preventing a word from leaving my lips. 

The Commander bends down and pats my arm compassionately, "The first time is always the hardest. Go on just say it. It gets easier after that."

"Though it never actually becomes easy." I hear the housewife mutter to herself before her breath is cut short by the tightening red noose. 

I can't, I just can't hold it in anymore. My entire body wants to say it. The urge is irrepressible. Every moment of resistance is sheer torture. Curling up into a ball, I close my eyes and hope to ride it out, but no relief comes. My stomach does a violent flip and I puke all over the Commander's shiny riding boots. 

"Wow, this is the first time I've ever seen anyone put up so much of a fight." Spikes quips but the Commander quickly shushes him. 

"Its almost over." the Commander says as he gently encourages me, "Just relax and go with the flow."

My spine short circuits sending an electric shock running through my entire body. My mouth hangs open, drooling, a mixture of saliva and vomit dripping on to the trench coat. The words begin to form in my throat. Here it comes. 

"Nyaaaaaah." I wail like a dying cat. 

And just like that, the impulse driving me disappears. 

The Voice rumbles, "It appears I was wrong Transmigrator. You are in absolutely no danger at all. Go ahead and swear the oath so we can continue with the mission."

"Uh." the majorette looks down at me in confusion, "Was that supposed to happen?"

"I swear. I swear to hold love blah, blah, blah." I quickly pipe up, "Just make the feeling stop."

"Alright!" the Commander cheers, pumping his fist, "Yet another member of our happy family has joined. We will get our latest brother equipped later once he is done with visiting his friend, but for now, royal guard, disperse!"

"About time." Spikes says as he rushes out of the estate, probably to get to work like he had been complaining about. The rest of the retard guard return to the void deck standing at parade rest.

Leaving me alone lying on the ground next to a puddle of my puke. 

"What in the world happened?" I whisper to The Voice, "I clearly felt being compelled to do something, but the feeling passed all of a sudden?"

"An advantage of your unique nature Transmigrator." The Voice explains, "The royal guard had managed to implant their commands into your soul, but you resisted most admirably."

"Man, I never realized my soul was so bad ass." I smirk while picking myself up.

"Oh no." The Voice sniggers, "The commands were implanted without a hitch. That is the reason why the royal guard are no longer on guard against you. It was ignorance, not bad assery as some would say, that saved you."

"Pardon?" I mutter as I stumble drunkenly to my feet. 

"Ignorance." The Voice repeats while stifling further laughter, "Your soul like yourself, is a stranger to this world."

"And like most strangers, it doesn't understand the local language."