"What, the actual fuck!?"
Before Roy could stand up or make sense of anything, a firm knock echoed at the door.
"Young Master, may I enter?" The voice was calm and smooth, with an alluring velvety feel to it that so vividly registered in Roy's foggy mind.
Young Master? The words ignited a spark in his mind that immediately became an explosion! There was only one simple explanation for the situation he found himself in.
Is this what I think it is? Transmigration!?
It had to be. The very thought of it sent his mind into a spiral! How lucky could he be!
No more loser Roy—now he was some privileged prick in a fantasy world, ripe for all the conquests he'd jerked off to in those isekai stories.
His cock twitched at the thought, already half-hard from the morning wood. "Come in!" he called a little too eagerly, and of course, he realised that his voice sounded deeper and smoother than before.
The door immediately swung open, and a petite young lady in a maid's uniform stepped in.
Hoo-ly fuck!
Roy's jaw slackened as he propped himself up on the bed on his palms, his eyes lecherously devouring the girl's form from head to toe.
She carried a tray with a pitcher, but it was her beauty that made his pulse hammer like a drum!
If Megan were a star in the sky, this maid was the sun itself! Any model, actress, or celebrity he had previously fapped to simply could not compare.
She... she is a goddess.
Roy's mind tunnel-visioned on that singular thought. Her proportions and looks were simply too perfect to be called anything else.
The maid's uniform she had on hugged her body sensually, highlighting her curves: the black fabric cinched at her slender waist, flaring over perfectly curved hips that swayed subtly with each step she took.
Her tits were average in size, but visibly perky as hell even through the fabric, pushing up against the crisp white apron as if in defiance of gravity.
The faint sight of her cleavage visible through the part of her uniform that was carved out almost gave him a nosebleed, and worse yet, her nipples were faintly outlined through the thin material.
And her face—goddamn, it was the most beautiful he'd ever seen. High cheekbones, full lips painted a natural rose, her eyes like storm clouds framed by dark lashes, brunette hair, pulled into a neat bun that begged to be undone.
Her features were cute and yet stern-looking, giving her the air of a person who took everything a bit too seriously, but that only spurred on Roy's fantasies.
Basically, her whole demeanour was a vision, every inch silently screaming 'fuck me' in the most innocent package.
Roy leered openly, not even bothering to restrain the growing bulge in his loose pants as he stared. His gaze travelled along her curves, tracing the dip of her cleavage, the way her hips filled out the skirt, imagining bending her over right there.
A grin split his face, his features turning obscene and predatory, twisting his handsome features—sharp jaw, tousled dark hair, and piercing blue eyes—into something feral. This body was a weapon, and he wielded it without shame.
Laura frowned in contempt, her perfect brows knitting together in clear disgust at being eyed so lustfully.
The expression hit Roy like a splash of cold water. What the hell?
She had called him Young Master, hadn't she? Deference dripped from her tone earlier. Why the sour look now? His mind raced ahead anyway, his fantasies overriding the bout of confusion from the maid's expression.
All those porn clips he'd binged—arrogant young masters pinning down trembling maids, forcing them to their knees, their skirts hiked up as they serviced thick cocks on command.
This is my world now, he thought, his cock becoming fully erect under the fabric of his pants, straining to be released from its confines. She'll spread for me, and then beg for it.
He had no doubt in his mind that this servant before him would not dare reject his advances, that is, if his thoughts were correct, which was, in all likelihood, very much likely the case.
He swung his legs off the bed, standing in just the loose nightshirt and loose pants that did little to hide his erection, which did not go unnoticed by the maid. Barefoot, he closed the distance in three strides, his tall frame towering over her despite her poised stance.
Reaching out, he hooked a finger under her chin, lifting it to force her gaze to his. Her skin was soft, warm, sending a jolt straight to his groin. "What's your name again?" he murmured, brushing his thumb against her jawline.
Laura's disgusted frown deepened into something uglier, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she quickly adjusted, calm returning to her features, and then she answered, "It's Laura, Young Master."
She held still, waiting, her gray eyes assessing him. Even though her face displayed nothing but calm, internally, unbeknownst to Roy, revulsion churned in her very being. How dare he! The trash young master of the Taur family Clan dares to touch me— Someone as useless as this?
Why was she offended by a simple, intimate touch by someone who clearly had more status than she could ever dream of?
Well, her story was an odd one. If you were to ask her co-workers what they thought of Laura, they would all say the same thing. She was one of the very few maids who exuded such an air of nobility that she may as well have been mistaken for a noble in any setting.
There was only one explanation why that would be the case: either she had worked very hard in the common training that everyone in her station had to undergo to work in such a household, or her humble origins were not so humble after all.
But that is a story for another day.
Laura had passed the maid training course in the capital at the top of her class. She was even ecstatic to be stationed in the prestigious Taur Clan for her first job. But she soon realised that maybe things had gone too well up to this point.
Her ecstasy soon turned to disappointment.
She'd drawn the short straw, being assigned as the infamously useless Taur heir's personal maid. She could have rejected, too bad for her, she hadn't known of his shortcomings at the time, and quitting after so eagerly accepting would be a stain on her record.
She had to keep her record clean, at any cost, for her goal. She had to make her way up into that person's clan, no matter the cost.
Laura's eyes sharpened for a moment as these thoughts ran through her mind, but she quickly composed herself once more and looked up at her current master.
How vile. He won't even bother to hide the disgusting thoughts running through his mind...
It made her wonder what made him so bold all of a sudden. All this time, he had been nothing but a spineless coward.
After his latest screw-up at the academy, the disdain directed at him only grew, and he was painted as even more of a spineless worm: embarrassing the family with his cowardice, cowering from anyone who so much as raised their voice at him.
His only redeeming quality? He never laid a hand on her, or anyone, for that matter. In fact, he'd flinch at eye contact, shrinking like a kicked dog. She didn't know what had made him so bold today, but the fact of the matter was that he was still a weakling. That's why she let his touch linger now—she felt no real threat from him.
With her brown mana core strength, she could snap his wrist or pin him to the wall without breaking a sweat. No one would care; even his own father had grown tired of his antics and overlooked his own son as nothing but trash, much like everyone else.
Still, she would very much prefer to keep such a stain from appearing on her record, but if he did try to force himself on her, Laura would have to show him his place.
The worst that could happen was her getting berated by the madam, who seemed to still love her child regardless of how useless he was.
Roy's breath quickened eagerly, misreading her stillness as submission.
Laura. The name fueled the fire in his loins.
He pursed his lips, leaning in fast, aiming to claim her lips in a forceful kiss—his tongue sticking out, ready to invade her small mouth, and his hands itching to grope those perky tits.
But, unfortunately, he never got the satisfaction. Laura's instincts flared.
Who do you think you are? she screamed inwardly, her fury boiling at the audacity. Outwardly, she moved like lightning: her hand slapped his away from her chin with a sharp crack, her palm connecting hard enough to sting his hand.
Then, she shoved his chest with both hands; even without actively augmenting her body with mana, she was still passively powerful. Roy stumbled awkwardly, his feet tangling, and crashed onto the floor in a heap, the breath whooshing from his lungs.
She stepped back, smoothing her white apron with composed grace, though her cheeks flushed slightly with anger. "I don't know what has come over you, Young Master," she said coolly, voice laced with warning, "but please refrain from touching me. I'm sure you're smart enough not to take my rejection personally."
Her actions might have seemed foolish to outsiders. As a maid, currying favor with the employer's son—a noble, no less—could elevate her status. Let him grope and play around with her, or even spread her legs for him with no resistance.
Such was the fate of women in this profession. Most who chose this job resigned themselves to such acts.
If she were lucky, she might even climb from the status of a mere servant to concubine, which at least was a step up from scrubbing floors.
But Laura knew secrets the rest didn't.
Even then, her ambitions stretched far beyond this crumbling estate, this backwater clan on the brink of ruin. She'd overheard the Patriarch Taur and his wife arguing late into the night—the patriarch's voice thunderous, declaring he'd finally disown his only son, Roy, after years of shame.
The academy fiasco had been the final straw; the details were lost on her, but damning enough to break the family head's tolerance of his son's antics.
The Patriarch had decided he would much rather let someone marry into the family and become the next head through his daughter, who was already of age.
What did this all mean for Roy Taur? Disownment for a noble lineage clan? A death sentence. Stripped of name and protection, he'd be prey for bandits, debtors, or worse.
Pity flickered in her chest as she looked down at him, sprawled on the rug, and his eyes widened in shock. He was her age, and inexplicably handsome in that wasted way—broad shoulders, chiseled features—but now, just a doomed boy.
Even if they tossed him a pittance to survive a year, it'd vanish in weeks with his well-known lavish habits and gambling addiction.
He would soon drown in debt as usual, only this time, there would be no Taur Clan to free him from those debts.
She was 99% convinced that he would probably be sold into slavery to pay off the inevitable debts he was soon to accrue and end up in a brothel.
With those looks, she mused grimly, he might scrape by as a male courtesan in the capital. Pleasing noble women with any luck, if he is not so lucky, he might end up sucking the cocks of twisted old men. Whether his pride would allow it was doubtful.
The cruelty of the world they lived in was not lost on her.
Shaking off the momentary sympathy, Laura straightened. Time to fulfill her duty. "Get dressed, Young Master. The Patriarch, your mother, and sister await you in the dining hall. Your presence is requested immediately." Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode out, the door clicking shut behind her.
"Wai—" Roy's call choked off, too stunned to form more. His mind blanked, ass smarting from the fall, and a certain member deflating in confusion.
What the fuck? What kind of maid slaps down her master like that? The disgust in her eyes—it mirrored Megan's sneer, the college girls' laughter, which is why he was so out of it now.
He pushed to his feet, gritting his teeth and fists clenching. "Maybe maids don't service young masters here?" he muttered aloud. The words were more bitter than he thought, even though they came out of his own mouth.
This world wasn't playing by his porn rules. Fine. He'd figure it out. And, he had to put that made in her place on one of these days.
After all, how could she dare to disrespect her master? He had to show her who's the boss; she had simply surprised him, that's all.
As a trasmigrator, he had to have been reborn with overpowered abilities, right?
Snatching clothes from the wardrobe—breeches, a fitted tunic that hugged his taught muscles—he dressed quickly, as he did so, memories of this body's life trickled in.