Spoiled Orange
"... Y-Young master of the vice admiral?"
She'd been tilting her head, convinced she'd done something wrong, ever since she showed up and I'd just stared at her silently without a word.
If I had to nitpick what she'd done wrong, it was her cheeky attitude—sassing me right to my face—but I realized the current situation was far more bewildering than I'd anticipated, and cold sweat started beading on my skin.
'Orange-flavored enhanced human or whatever the hell... so what the fuck do I even call her... shit?'
Was this the kind of situation you see in those possession stories that pop up in novels all the time? Normally, thanks to my thorough prep work, I'd have slipped into the role seamlessly, navigated the palace intrigue without a hitch. But here I was, zero intel, no time to gather any, face-to-face with someone acting like she knew me inside out. It was fucking disorienting.
'Hmm... I didn't tweak her personality or any fine details on entry, so maybe just act like usual?'
Her brows furrowed deeper as she tilted her head, her puzzled expression sharpening—and I caught the way those full-body muscle fibers I'd already clocked were tensing up tight. Before I could spark any needless misunderstandings, I dropped the fake persona and switched to my natural instincts.
"What're you babbling about? You half-ripe orange..."
I tossed it out casually, eyes flicking dismissively over her chest. She flinched for a split second, mulled it over, then dropped her guard and thrust her chest out proudly.
"What's half-ripe about it! This size is perfectly ripe—prime and delicious!"
"Goddamn... you'd spit it out bitter the second you bit in... ugh..."
I tsked my tongue, glaring at her like she was a total disappointment. A thick vein throbbed right in the middle of her forehead. She didn't even try hiding her rage—her fist clenched with a creepy grinding crunch.
I snorted through my nose and opened my mouth.
"Ripe or fucking rotten, that's your problem... where's Father?"
"No! Rotten!... Eh...?"
She bristled at the sexual harassment in my words, gearing up to snap back—then her eyes bulged wide, her face freezing solid.
'Ah, shit. Guess I haven't fully shaken off the acting yet.'
I'd spent so long playacting as a bundle of fake courtesy, polite to everyone around me, that "Father" had slipped out all wrong for me. Matching my usual personality in the setup must've made the fabricated character just as rude as hell too—watching her dig in her ear and cock her head doubtfully, I let out a sigh and scratched my head.
"Dad or Father, same difference. What's the big shock?"
"No! Even so! You're the first one to call the admiral 'Father' since I started working here!"
"Fuck."
Even so, to think I'd never once properly addressed my parents...
'Born into such a sky-high status that her ego and head got all fucked up...?'
In the real world, I'd grown up through all sorts of rough shit and storms, so I prided myself on reading rooms and switching gears better than most. But here? Seemed like I'd lived spoiled rotten by that monstrous admiral daddy, throwing tantrums and doing whatever the hell I wanted with my unique brand of crazy. My lip curled involuntarily.
Jealousy mixed in, but so did creeping anxiety—had this guy shat so much shit in the past that even I might not handle the fallout?
"Hey, Orange."
"N-No! I told you not to call me that! It's always 'Orange'! Everyone around here calls me Orange because of you!"
She shuddered, her lip quivering with that wounded vibe.
Well, whether it was old me or current me, that's why they called her Orange...
"Whatever. Anyway... any urgent shit I gotta handle? Or anything that could cause problems...?"
She huffed, glaring daggers for a moment before sighing deep to cool off, shaking her head side to side.
"Like just now... you're acting so off today. It's kinda scary..."
"Heh. What, scared I'll turn out to be a body-snatched ghost or something?"
"No? That stuff never happens, so it's even weirder."
From my angle, I'd tossed it out as a joke while she dramatically patted herself down, shuddering all over—but she jabbed a finger at her right eyeball with a stone-cold face.
"If it was a personality wipe like that, there'd be traces left, and your attitude toward me wouldn't match normal. Hmm... you just seem more thoughtful than usual... calling the admiral 'Father'—maybe you're finally growing up..."
With that, her right retina sparkled with lights, blinking with a faint mechanical whir. Then she muttered to herself, lost in her own world.
'Fuck. Thought her enhanced human eyes were just souped-up dog vision...'
I glanced down at the personal device strapped to my arm—a little bracelet thing—and realized this world was crawling with gear way beyond that. I drew a quiet breath.
Learning now that she didn't take my joke lightly—that body-snatching procedures existed and she could detect traces—was huge intel for me. If even her super-advanced scanner vouched for me being normal, I could pull all kinds of bullshit without anyone questioning my very existence, right?
'No clue how advanced medicine is here, so can't pull amnesia bullshit. Jackpot. Heh.'
Worst case, I could play the macho reborn man: "Fuck the past, I'm a new man!" And to anyone with her dog-eye tech, it'd beam back: 'Nah, captain's not snatched—just a retard spouting retard shit in his right mind!'
Normally, I'd lack the balls for that kind of brazen crap, but right now? Admiral's son—silver spoon beyond gold, straight-up spoon factory CEO level.
'Yeah. While I'm at it, maybe declare I shed my past and reborn for shits and giggles...'
Any old messes? Everyone'd nod along: new man, fresh start.
"Ah!"
"Eh...? W-What, young master?"
"No, I'm asking if there's shit I need to worry about, and you're grinning like an idiot by yourself?"
She snapped out of her muttering at my jab, shot me a soft glare with a twitch, then spoke up.
"Ugh... I said none. No idea what concept you're pranking with this time, but you wouldn't stir up trouble like that—or leave loose ends."
"Huh? Why?"
"...No fucking clue what your deal is... ugh..."
I shrugged all innocent-like, and she shook her head, continuing.
"You toss all your shitty friends in federal prison, corrupt the good ones till they're shitty too... hell, maybe you should be the one locked up. But you dodge every consequence like a pro... unbelievable..."
Looked like no shitstorm from the backstory to drown in—my head bobbed in relief.
'Makes sense. With my personality baked in, self-preservation'd be airtight. Heh.'
Worry gone, relief washed over my face in a grin.
"Good. Then, know where our esteemed admiral's at?"
"...Sigh... ever think the world's fucking unfair?"
"What? Just tell me where the old man's at? Making me dizzy."
I started whining all relaxed now, and she ruffled her hair wildly, sighing deep. Her prim look clashed hard with the maid outfit—something I'd clocked from the start. Her gait, her reactive body language... it screamed soldier or merc. My eyes narrowed.
'Enhanced human who name-drops admiral a lot... military? Babysitter or bodyguard planted on me...?'
I'd beefed up the background on entry but worried about being sidelined more than anything—only child setting emphasized. That eye-blink muttering earlier? Reporting to daddy? Doubt crept in, and my body instinctively edged back a step.
'This Orange... too tough to eat, way too tough.'