After the hug and some lingering awkward giggles, I was given time to settle in. A maid—whose name I promptly forgot because it sounded either French, German, or Spanish, all of which were unfamiliar to me because I only ever took intermediate Chinese as part as my graduate credit—politely guided me to my room, where my PC setup hadn't arrived yet but the bed alone looked like it cost more than my rent for a year.
"Thank you… Miss…" I stuttered, looking at her short ginger hair and freckles beauty.
"It's Anshur Von Rodolfo, Madam." She replied with a cold face.
"Thank you." I repeated, dare not to invoke her name in case the furniture started moving.
I took the fastest yet most thorough shower of my entire empty life in an attempt to escape the creeping scent of sweats and day-old onion powder and ramen broth.
