So this library in Lord Derek's place? It's fucking huge. Like, imagine the biggest room you've ever seen, then double it.
Two stories tall with these massive oak shelves everywhere, packed with old leather books and scrolls.
Sunlight streams through big windows, lighting up everything in the room.
The old librarian guy looks up when I walk in. He's got these glasses perched on his big nose, wild white hair around his balding head, and gnarly fingers resting on a book that looks ready to crumble if you breathe on it wrong.
"Ah, you must be the new slave," he says, his voice surprisingly strong for such a frail-looking dude. "Good, good. I've got tons of shit for you to do."
"Master Harlowe," I say, remembering what Tib told me. "I'm Daren."
"I know who you are, boy," he says, taking off his glasses and really looking at me. "You're not the first foreigner to work in my library."
The way he says it catches my attention. "The first foreigner?"
He waves me off. "Never mind that. You're here to work, not chat." He points to this huge stack of books on a cart. "These need cataloging and shelving in the eastern section. Follow the numbering system exactly."
Looking at the cart, I notice most books are in languages I don't know—some with weird symbols that seem to move when I look at them.
Master Harlowe shows me how to catalog them, copying titles and authors into this massive ledger and assigning shelf locations.
"This section's been a mess for ages," he grumbles. "Lord Derek keeps collecting too many weird texts."
While he's explaining this boring system, I spot a woman sitting alone in a corner. She's wearing this emerald silk dress that hugs her curves perfectly.
Her light brown hair is all done up, showing off her neck. She's super into whatever she's reading, occasionally licking her finger to turn a page, which is way hotter than it should be.
My status window pops up:
[POTENTIAL TARGET]
Lady Westfield
Marriage Status: 3 years, Unsatisfied
Husband: Currently traveling with Duke Harrington
Difficulty: Moderate
Reward: Unknown
I blink as the window fades away. So now the system's pointing out women I can fuck? That's new—and damn useful. I check out Lady Westfield more carefully.
She keeps sighing and shifting in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs like she can't get comfortable. Even from here, I can see her emerald wedding ring catching the light when she moves her hand.
"Pay attention, boy!" Master Harlowe snaps, pulling me back to reality. "This isn't for show." He taps the ledger. "Every entry must be perfect. Lord Derek is super picky about his collection."
"Of course," I say, trying to focus. "I'll be careful."
He gives me this skeptical look. "See that you are. Start with those books on ancient customs.
And stay away from the restricted section." He points to a gated area at the back. "Those books are for Lord Derek's eyes only."
Of course, that just makes me really want to know what's in the restricted section, but I just nod like a good boy.
As Master Harlowe hobbles back to his desk, I push the cart toward the eastern shelves and get to work.
Cataloging is boring as fuck, but not hard, so my mind wanders while I copy titles and authors.
From my new spot, I've got a better view of Lady Westfield. She occasionally looks up from her book to glance around.
Once, our eyes meet, and she gives me a small smile before going back to reading. Interesting.
About an hour into this mind-numbing work, I find a book that's different. Instead of fancy leather, this one's wrapped in what looks like gray hide with weird textures.
The title's in some language I don't know, but when I open it, I'm shocked to find parts written in something close enough to English that I can understand bits and pieces.
"Travelers between worlds..." I whisper, running my fingers over the strange writing. "Vessels of power... champions beyond the veil."
My status window pops up again:
[QUEST UPDATE]
Discover more about transmigrants
Progress: 5%
Reward: +5 XP (Earned)
My heart pounds as I carefully turn the pages. This could be info about people like me—other transmigrants who've ended up in this world.
Just as I'm about to dig deeper, I sense someone coming and quickly close the book, hiding it under some other volumes.
"Finding anything interesting?"
The voice sends a jolt through my body. Elara's standing at the end of the shelf, those impossibly green eyes full of mischief.
She's wearing this soft lavender dress that barely covers her ass—sexy as hell, like innocence and seduction rolled into one hot package.
"Just cataloging books," I answer, keeping my voice steady despite my growing hard-on. "Your father has quite the collection."
"Mmm, he collects many things," she purrs, coming closer, her scent washing over me. "Especially unusual people."
The way she says it makes it obvious she knows something about my situation. How much has her father told her about transmigrants?
"I'm not that unusual," I lie, looking back at my ledger. "Just unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Elara laughs softly. "We both know that's bullshit." She deliberately drops a small leather bookmark and looks up at me. "Would you mind?"
It's such an obvious move, but I play along, putting down my quill and bending to grab the bookmark. As I do, I get a perfect view of her creamy thighs and what's between them. The thin fabric clings to her skin, barely hiding anything. I swallow hard, feeling myself get even harder as I straighten up and hand her the bookmark. "Here you go, Lady Elara."
"Thank you, Daren." She takes it, deliberately brushing her fingers against mine, sending electricity up my arm.
"I'm studying the history of the noble houses today. Maybe you could help me reach some of the higher books?"
We move to a secluded corner.
As I reach for a book, she steps back, pressing her ass against my crotch. The contact sends heat surging through me, and I can't help but notice her petite tits, her nipples hard under the thin fabric.
She turns, our bodies inches apart, and I feel her warm breath on my skin. "There's another one I need," she says, pointing to a different shelf. This teasing dance keeps going—her body pressing against mine, her hand brushing my groin, her tits against my arm. Each touch is clearly deliberate, designed to drive me fucking crazy with lust.
During one reach, she steps back, making my arm brush against her breast. She lets out a soft moan, her eyes locked on mine. "I'm sorry," I say, though we both know that's complete bullshit.
"Are you?" she challenges, her tongue sliding across her lips, making them wet and inviting.
My status window flickers, reminding me of my quest to seduce her, but I don't need the reminder. My cock is painfully aware of her every movement, every touch.
[QUEST REMINDER]
Seduce a Noble's Daughter
Progress: 15%
Reward: 150 XP
She drops her quill, bending to pick it up herself, giving me a perfect view as her dress rides up, showing her bare, perfect ass. When she stands, her eyes meet mine, and she slowly, deliberately licks her lips, her gaze dropping to the obvious bulge in my pants.
"Looks like I've found something more interesting than history books," she purrs, her voice thick with lust.
I imagine pushing her against the shelves, lifting that short dress, and fucking her right here among the ancient books.
The forbidden thrill of it all—she's Lord Derek's daughter, the untouchable prize—makes it even hotter. The thought of claiming her, of defying the powerful spymaster in his own library, sends a rush of heat through me that's almost unbearable.
"Daren," she whispers, reaching for my face.
Before her fingers can touch me, a voice cuts through the tension.
"Getting settled in, new slave?"