Assistant

He opened his eyes, wincing as a sharp, throbbing headache pulsed through his skull. The ceiling above him wasn't like anything he'd ever seen—definitely not metal, but not exactly normal either. It looked like some kind of crystal, smooth and reflective, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. There was a strange, mechanical vibe to it, like the entire room was built out of some futuristic tech he couldn't even begin to understand.

Groaning, he pushed himself upright, trying to shake off the confusion that clouded his mind. "Where the hell am I?" he muttered, rubbing his temples. Something felt off. Really off. He looked around, taking in the strange, shimmering walls and the soft, blue glow that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Then he looked down—and his heart nearly stopped. He was completely, utterly, butt-naked.

"Shit!" he screamed, his hands flying to cover his crotch. Panic surged through him. "What the—! Where are my clothes?!" He frantically scanned the room for something—anything—to cover himself up. His eyes landed on a thin, metallic blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Without a second thought, he grabbed it and wrapped it around his body, sighing in relief as he managed to hide his… "little problem."

"Okay, okay… it's fine. No one saw," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his racing heart. But then he heard it—a soft chuckle, low and mocking, coming from somewhere in the room.

"What the—who's there?" he demanded, his voice trembling slightly as he scanned the empty space. But he saw no one.

The chuckle grew louder, turning into a full-blown laugh. "Oh, this is rich… I didn't expect my first assignment to be such a pathetic creature," a voice said, dripping with amusement.

His head snapped toward the sound, and his eyes widened. Out of thin air, a woman appeared, materializing like she'd just stepped through some invisible doorway. She was tall, with a slender, well-toned figure, wearing a tight mini skirt that hugged her wide hips and a white blouse that struggled to contain her large breasts. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, but it only seemed to accentuate her sharp green eyes, predatory gaze. She had a smirk on her lips, a look that was both bemused and disgusted, like she was staring at a piece of trash on her expensive shoes.

"Wh-what the fuck?" he stammered, stumbling back onto the bed, his heart hammering in his chest. "Who the hell are you?!"

The woman's smirk widened into a full-blown grin as she crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a once-over with a gaze that felt like it could cut through steel. "Wow," she said, her voice thick with mockery. "What a tiny dick."

His face flushed beet red, and he instinctively tightened the blanket around himself, his eyes wide with shock and a little bit of terror. "Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?" he shouted, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Don't you just pop out of nowhere and insult me!"

She laughed again, the sound light and airy but filled with a cruel edge. "Oh, this is going to be fun," she purred, stepping closer. "But I'm afraid I'm not here to admire your… assets." Her tone was dripping with sarcasm, and he could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger.

"Stay back!" he yelled, jumping to the other side of the bed, holding the blanket like it was a shield that could protect him from whatever this… this woman was.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at him like he was some kind of insect she could squash under her heel. "Relax, little man," she said, her tone as cold as ice. "I'm not here to hurt you. Much."

Before he could retort, a floating window appeared in front of him, glowing with a faint blue light. He blinked, staring at the text that began to scroll across the translucent screen:

NAME: Scarlet

ROLE: Assistant

Below that, more information appeared, but most of it was locked, the letters blurred and unreadable, save for a few lines:

Status: High

Personality: Rude, untouchable, despises weakness, views you as a "sickly creature"

Alignment: Dream Creature

He swallowed hard, trying to make sense of the words in front of him. "Assistant?" he muttered, still holding onto the blanket for dear life. "What the hell does that even mean?"

Scarlet leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "It means I'm here to make sure you don't completely screw this up, little man," she said with a sneer. "I'm your guide, your handler, your… let's call it your babysitter. And trust me, this is a job I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

He scowled, still trying to process everything. "A babysitter?" he spat. "I'm not a kid! I don't need a babysitter!"

Scarlet's grin turned wicked. "Oh, you will," she said, her voice almost a purr. "Because from where I'm standing, you're nothing but a sad little worm in a very big, very dangerous universe. And if you think you're going to survive out here without me, you're even dumber than you look."

He glared at her, anger boiling in his veins, but deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that she might just be right.

His heart pounded as he stared at the floating window in front of him, the words "Plot Armor Genius" still flickering on the screen. Scarlet leaned closer, her eyes narrowing with a mix of disdain and annoyance. Her voice was cold and sharp as a knife's edge. "Listen up, worm," she said, her tone clipped and irritated. "For me to become a manager, I have to make sure *you* complete 100 storylines. If you manage that, you'll become a full-time employee in our prestigious Plot Armor Agency… you piece of shit."

He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure as her words sank in. Scarlet's expression soured further, and she muttered under her breath, "Where the hell did I go wrong to end up babysitting this trash?" She bit her perfectly manicured nails, frustration and anger flashing across her face. "I should be managing a real talent, not… this."

He flinched as her gaze turned back to him, more cutting than before. "To survive here, you have to complete 100 storylines and get them approved by the publishers," she continued, each word dripping with disdain. "If you can't meet the deadlines… well, you'll be kicked into the Abyss. And trust me, before that happens, I'll personally pluck your little crotch and use your balls for golf. Got it?"

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He felt a scream building in his throat, but he forced it down, terrified he might actually wet himself in front of her. He was stunned, his brain short-circuiting at the idea of his "little man" being plucked out. He instinctively reached down to make sure it was still there, relief washing over him as he confirmed it hadn't disappeared.

"Y-yes, yes, I'll do it!" he stammered, obediently sitting down on the edge of the bed, head down, trying to look as submissive as possible. But when he dared to glance back up, his eyes inadvertently landed on something he wished they hadn't—Scarlet's panties, barely hidden beneath her mini skirt, a delicate pink lace that sent his blood rushing to his nose.

Blood erupted from his nostrils in a fountain of red, and he staggered back, mouth agape. Scarlet's eyes widened in shock, her face twisting in disgust. "You filthy pervert!" she screamed, her voice high and shrill. Before he could even think to explain, she swung her leg up and kicked him square in the face, sending him flying back onto the bed. His vision blurred, stars dancing before his eyes, and then everything went dark.

He woke up a few moments later, a sharp pain throbbing in his head. Groaning, he scrambled to his feet, desperately babbling, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I swear I wasn't looking! Please don't kill me, don't pluck me, I'll do anything—just spare my… my little bro!"

Scarlet stood there, her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a tight line. Her eyes blazed with anger, a vein twitching at her temple. She looked like she was two seconds away from launching him into the sun. But then she sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Pathetic," she muttered. "A beggar, a trash piece of shit like you gets to see this majesty up close, and you think that's not a reward of a lifetime?" Her mouth curled into a smirk, a cruel glint in her eye. "Now grovel at my feet, worm," she commanded, her voice filled with mocking disdain. "Let's see you jerking around like the ant you are."

He screamed internally, his pride torn to shreds, every nerve in his body vibrating with humiliation and rage. His mind was a whirlwind of fury, and despite his fear, a single, blazing thought cut through the chaos: *I'll make you pay for this, bitch. No matter what it takes, I'll make you pay for this humiliation.*

He stayed on his knees, trembling, forcing himself to swallow his anger—for now. But deep inside, a spark of defiance had ignited, and it was growing, burning hotter with every second.