I still hadn't accepted it.
Not the body. Not the mansion. Definitely not the maids.
It had been less than a day since I woke up in this world — or rather, in someone else's body — and everything still felt like an extremely detailed, extremely perverted hallucination.
But the bed was real. The food was real.
And unfortunately, so was the mirror.
I stood in front of it now, staring at the reflection of a man who looked like a fashion model from some erotic fantasy magazine. Sharp jawline. Long, flowing dark hair. Defined chest. Not mine. Definitely not mine.
And then there was the outfit.
"Is this seriously noble fashion…?"
The robe was made of fine black velvet with gold embroidery. Sleeves long and cuffed. Legs fully covered in tight dark trousers and polished boots. But the front — the entire chest — was left completely open, down to my abs. Like someone had designed it thinking, "What if elegance... but also thirst trap?"
I tried tugging it closed, but it had no buttons there. Just a decorative brooch at the collar that made it worse by drawing more attention to my exposed chest.
With a frustrated sigh, I slumped into the seat by the mirror.
A knock sounded.
Before I could say anything, the door creaked open, and the youngest maid stepped in — Nimee, I think her name was. Bright-eyed, strawberry-blonde hair in bouncing twin tails, and wearing that same scandalously short maid skirt as yesterday. No undergarments. No shame. No hesitation.
"Good morning, my Lord~!" she chirped. "Are you ready for your meal? Lady Verona says you're to take breakfast in the garden pavilion today!"
"I can dress myself," I mumbled.
"Oh, but it's my duty, my Lord!" She rushed over, hands already adjusting my collar. "You're so elegant, we can't let your robe sit crooked!"
She pressed closer, fixing the brooch at my neck. Her breasts — barely contained by that fluttering top — brushed my bare chest. I froze. A bead of sweat rolled down my back.
"Dressed and divine!" she smiled. "Shall I escort you to the garden?"
I swallowed. "…Yeah. Sure."
---
The estate garden looked like something out of a dream.
There were tall marble columns wrapped in flowering vines, a central fountain with a sculpture of a nude woman arching backward in ecstasy — probably the Goddess they all worshipped — and gauzy curtains swaying in the breeze.
A white-clothed table had already been set, under a parasol. Silverware, warm bread, exotic fruits.
A chair was pulled out for me. I sat.
Then Nimee sat beside me.
In another chair.
Close.
Very close.
She leaned in with a small plate of sliced fruit.
"Open wide~!" she said sweetly.
I turned to tell her I could feed myself — and that's when it happened.
Because the moment she sat, her absurdly short skirt slid up even further. And she, of course, wore nothing beneath it. As per custom.
So now, her sacred part was plainly, clearly, impossibly visibly right there, between her smooth thighs.
I froze.
Brain short-circuited.
Eyes tried to look away — failed.
She smiled innocently, holding a slice of peach near my mouth.
"My Lord? You're staring."
"UH—No! I mean—fruit! I'm staring at the—fruit!"
She tilted her head. "Peach is your favorite, isn't it?"
I didn't answer. Because now I couldn't move.
Down below, my treacherous lower body had already begun reacting. I crossed my legs under the table. Too late.
She either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Say ah~"
The slice hovered near my lips. I opened my mouth obediently. She slipped it in — the fruit, I mean — and I bit down. Juicy, sweet, a little cold.
Then a drop slipped off my lip and landed on my exposed chest.
Before I could wipe it, Nimee leaned forward and— licked it off.
Her tongue was warm. Quick. Soft.
"There we go~ Can't let our Lord get sticky."
My brain completely died.
---
Someone cleared their throat.
I jumped, knocking my knee into the underside of the table.
Verona, the head maid, had arrived. Tall. Poised. Mature. Her translucent high-slit dress fluttered in the breeze, and her cold eyes regarded me over the rims of narrow glasses.
"A bit early for dessert, isn't it, Nimee?"
Nimee giggled and stood. "Just keeping him nourished!"
Verona turned to me. She bowed — low. Her long silver hair spilled forward.
And once again, full view.
I didn't even react this time. I couldn't. I was already too far gone. I just stared blankly at the sky.
"Lord Caldus," she said smoothly. "You've been acting... different since yesterday."
I blinked. "D-different how?"
"Less assertive. More flustered. And you keep looking away from everyone's… offerings."
"I—uh—I'm just feeling… overwhelmed."
She studied me a moment, then smiled faintly.
"Well," she said. "If you require relief, I can summon a priestess. Or perhaps one of your lovers."
"NO!" I said too fast. "I mean. No, thank you. I'm fine."
She raised a brow. "As you wish."
---
Later, after they left me alone under the parasol, I leaned back in the chair and exhaled.
What the hell kind of place was this?
Everywhere I turned, someone was almost naked. Everything was soaked in sex. Everyone acted like it was sacred, normal, routine.
And me? I was just some overworked delivery guy stuck in the middle of a living fantasy I didn't ask for.
Then I heard it again.
A soft whisper. Velvety, feminine, sultry — right in my ear.
"Desire is not sin. Shame is not sacred. You will learn to feast without fear, my flame… when you're ready."
I shivered.
The voice faded like mist.