Fresh Orange Maid
"Mm..."
A hum of excitement slipped from my lips unbidden, fueled by the thrill bubbling up from this brand-new world. The very first moment I stepped into the game Park Jisu had picked for me, just as she'd said. What unfolded before my eyes was a room straight out of a blockbuster movie, radiating grandeur that made it feel downright rude for any mere human to live in. Yet, the lived-in touches everywhere—from the subtle signs of daily use—had me nodding in approval as I recalled the settings I'd prepped in advance.
'I've been slumming it on the streets way too long.'
In the Apocalypse world, some unheard-of protagonist's Japanese-style mansion. In the Murim world, roughing it in the wild hills just to build a backstory. The Fantasy world was the closest I'd gotten—at least there, even as a guild newbie, it felt somewhat fitting for my level. So this opulent splendor before me drew a grin across my face without effort.
Cutting to the chase, the game I'd entered was an SF strategy title set against the backdrop of space, the perfect match for the genre. I'd initially figured I'd need an RPG or something similar for growth, like always. But as I scrolled through the trash heap of flop games Jisu had lined up, I realized that was a needless luxury. What I really needed was a world overflowing with the resources I craved right now—no detours.
'Among the ones Jisu showed me, this had the most space-age vibe, packed with all sorts of high-tech conveniences.'
With that quick thought, I strode out brazenly, claiming the room as mine already, and slipped on a small silver bracelet from the table.
Kiiing.
The bracelet hummed to life with a faint whir so subtle a normal human wouldn't even register it. Moments later, a crisp virtual panel materialized in the air above my wrist, morphing into a familiar smartphone interface.
'Oh... fuck yeah.'
In a true space-faring world, you'd expect implants—chips in your body, HUDs flickering in your eyeballs. But this was a game world, born for a clear purpose, not some organically evolved society. Considering the bracelet was basically the in-game interface for quests, menus, and all that clicking bullshit, this setup was plenty grateful-worthy. I nodded vigorously.
'Honestly, shoving chips into your body feels sketchy as hell anyway...'
With my abilities, who knows if I could even handle implants. And in a hyper-advanced sci-fi society like this, cybercrimes and hacks would be rampant. Shoving that chip idea aside, I focused on the hologram.
One resolution I'd made entering this world: unlike before, ignore the fine details of the game's story. I'd always dove in with obsessive prep to avoid any bullshit harming me. But now, at Fire Realm level with a arsenal of skills to keep my ass alive, it was time to cut loose.
'From Apocalypse to Fantasy, I've been freeloading too much... Closest thing to excitement was getting kidnapped by the Demonic Cult in Murim...?'
Jisu's prelim recon gave me the basics—weapons, SF gadgets, living essentials—but it was surface-level at best. A chuckle escaped me unwittingly. True immersion would mean randomizing my entry like this room, but fuck that. Why cosplay as a dirt-poor scrub when I could keep my status and social standing? No masochistic potato-munching for me. Shaking off that lingering itch, I dove into the hologram proper.
'Name... Ramuel? What kind of dogshit name is that? Fuck... Can't even change it.'
To live carefree without sweating the world's big plotlines, I'd set myself as the son of some semi-important dude for security. But this knockoff dad saddles me with a tongue-twisting abomination of a name. My lip curled involuntarily. Still, curiosity about the fake old man got the better of me. Swiping through the hologram revealed a tidal wave of info confirming his insane wealth and power. I tucked my lip back in, suddenly swelling with newfound filial piety.
'Fuck. Did I overdo it picking such a big shot for a dad?'
If this were Fantasy, he'd be on par with Griham—or higher. Suddenly, the maids and butlers bustling outside the window felt like insignificant ants.
'But... wasn't that always the case?'
Mulling it over, I snorted. Hell, I'm basically the world's owner. What kinda retarded thought was that? With a flick, I shut off the hologram, stood up, and headed out.
Basic societal intel was locked in via hologram. Personal info, ID, payments—all handled by the Personal Device on my wrist. First order: scout this jaw-dropping mansion.
Kkiiik.
Decision made, I eased the door open cautiously. The second I stepped out, a petite maid froze mid-step, wide-eyed and staring up at me.
Vibrant crimson waves like a fresh orange, a dainty frame boldly asserting her womanhood with those tits. Sleek legs stretching from under her maid outfit had me swallowing hard—until an uncanny vibe hit me, like she was a monster in human skin. I sharpened my senses on instinct.
Boosted perception peeled back layers: her body wasn't normal human. Character setting or fake dad's kink? The maid uniform framed it perfectly—from scalp to collarbone, down to those bare, flawless legs. Every muscle fiber screamed beyond-human, visible at a glance. A gasp escaped me.
'Whoa... fuck. This an Enhanced Human or some shit? Those fibers are twisted like steel cables...?'
Like the massive cables holding up a bridge over river or sea—power radiating from them was gaugable, tongue-tingling. Skin and bones must match to support it. No mana in this world, like Apocalypse, yet this fresh-faced girl-meido packed First-rate, C-Rank physicals...
'Living in a place like this, bold enough to barge into my room? Gotta be top-tier Enhanced Human.'
Without higher-dimensional mana, personal power capped at First-rate here. A snort escaped, but this world's real deal was ship-scale space battles—trampling individual scraps like bugs. Unlike my primitive monster-hunting scrambles, my lips curled naturally upward.
"Whoa?! Young master, up early? You always whine the world outside the blankets is dangerous, waiting till the sun's high noon!"
The crimson-haired girl blinked round-eyed, reassessing me. Maid uniform or not, her gaze brimmed with spunky pride fitting a half-noble estate prowler. I grinned and nodded.
'Orange juice for dinner tonight. Heh heh.'