Ken crouched behind a bush at the edge of town, clutching a leafy branch over his crotch like it was his last piece of dignity. Morning sunlight poured down on him like judgment from above. Birds chirped, a cow mooed somewhere, and he was standing there, naked as the day he was born, praying nobody walked by.
"Alright," he muttered. "Step one: get pants. Step two: don't get thrown in jail. Step three: maybe find coffee. Or beer. Mostly beer."
The pink screen flickered to life in front of him.
[Quest Timer: 4:48:09 remaining.]
[Tip: Confidence is sexy. Clothes are optional.]
"Yeah, tell that to hypothermia," he grumbled.
He peeked out of the bush. The first building down the dirt road was a small shop with a sign that read Stella's Stitchery. Jackpot. Clothes.
Ken jogged toward it, still holding the branch like a makeshift loincloth. The moment he peeked through the dusty window, his luck turned on him again.
Inside, a middle-aged woman was sewing by the counter while her daughter arranged folded shirts. The air shimmered pink—the Perverted Eye activating on its own.
[Human Female – Seamstress, 45, Married, likes gossip.]
[Human Female – Daughter, 19, Single, curious.]
[Transparency Level 1: Active.]
"Oh, come on," Ken whispered. "Turn off, damn it!"
He blinked and instantly regretted it. His eyes were giving him a free peep show he never asked for. He stumbled back, tripped over a bucket, and crashed through the door. The bell rang like a battle horn.
Both women screamed.
The older one swung her sewing needle like a knife. "Get out, you naked freak!"
"Wait! I can explain—" Ken started, but the daughter chucked an apple straight at his head.
"OUT!" she shrieked.
He ducked, dodged, and bolted, the branch flapping uselessly in his hand.
The System chimed happily.
[Reputation: -20.]
[New Title: The Village Streaker.]
"Perfect," Ken groaned, sprinting down the dirt road. "I've been alive here twenty minutes and I'm already infamous."
Villagers turned their heads as he ran by. Someone gasped. A farmer shouted, "Cover yourself, sinner!" and threw a cabbage that exploded against his shoulder.
Ken ducked into an alley, panting. "Alright… plan B. Find something to wear before someone calls the guards."
Luck, for once, took pity on him. Between two houses, a laundry line hung with shirts and pants flapping in the breeze.
He glanced left. Then right. No one in sight.
"Sorry, laundry gods," he whispered, and yanked down a pair of rough trousers and a plain tunic. They smelled faintly like goat, but at this point, he'd marry the goat if it came with a pair of boots.
When he stepped back out, dressed and only mostly ridiculous, the System pinged.
[Quest Timer: 4:10:56.]
[Tip: Dressing up doesn't change what's inside.]
"Shut up," Ken muttered, heading toward the sound of voices and laughter.
At the center of town sat a worn-looking tavern with a crooked sign: The Rusty Chalice. The smell of ale and smoke drifted out through the open door.
Ken hesitated. "Well, if I'm gonna die impotent, might as well have a drink first."
Inside, the place was busy—farmhands, merchants, drunks who looked like they'd been there since last night. The moment he stepped in, a few heads turned.
"Hey," one man muttered to another. "Ain't that the lunatic who ran through town naked?"
"Yup," said another, laughing. "Bet my left boot it is."
Ken sighed and slid onto a stool at the bar, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. "Ale. Strongest you got."
The barkeep, a thick-armed woman with a braid like a rope, eyed him. "That'll be a silver."
Ken patted his pockets—empty. "Put it on my tab?"
She snorted. "You don't have a tab."
"Right. Guess I'll just… sit here and enjoy the smell of other people's happiness."
The door swung open again, and conversation dipped. A woman stepped inside, and the tavern's noise changed from loud to amused.
"Mara's back," someone whispered behind Ken.
"Another poor bastard about to get cleaned out," another said.
Ken turned. The woman in question sauntered up to the bar, hips swaying like she owned the floorboards. Long dark hair, teasing smile, eyes that said she already knew everyone was staring.
She gave him a slow look, from boots to face, and smirked. "You're new."
Ken cleared his throat. "Is it that obvious?"
"Just a little." She leaned on the counter. "I'm Mara. And you're either brave or stupid for sitting here."
"Ken," he said. "Mostly stupid."
She laughed, soft and knowing. "I figured."
The system pinged again.
[Target Identified: High Compatibility.]
"Oh, no," Ken muttered.
Mara raised an eyebrow. "Oh no what?"
"Nothing. It's been a weird morning."
She slid onto the stool beside him, crossing her legs slowly. "So I've heard. Ran through town butt-naked, huh? Can't say that's how most guys introduce themselves."
"Yeah, well, I like to make an impression."
Behind them, a group of men chuckled.
"Poor fool," one whispered.
"Mara's found herself another one," said another. "Bet she's got his coin before sundown."
Ken ignored them, though Mara's lips twitched like she'd heard every word.
She leaned closer. "You know, you're lucky I'm in a generous mood. Usually, I charge five silvers for company."
Ken blinked. "Five silvers?"
"That's the rate, sweetheart. What, you thought I was offering free samples?"
He smiled faintly. "I don't have it on me right now, but I can pay after. Here—" He slid a small gold ring from his hand and held it up. "You can keep this as collateral. Worth more than five silvers easy."
Mara's eyes gleamed. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious," he said.
She turned it over in her hand, the dim light catching on the metal. "Hmm. I'll hold onto it then. Come on."
Ken smirked. The ring was a perfect fake he'd kept since college—a cheap prop from a costume party. He followed her upstairs.
The moment they disappeared, someone at a nearby table muttered, "Another sucker. She'll drain him dry by morning."
Ken would've laughed if he'd heard it.
Upstairs, Mara led him into a small, cozy room that smelled faintly of perfume and ale. She locked the door behind them and turned around, arms crossed.
"So," she said, "Ken. You always scamper into taverns half broke and half dressed, or is this a special day?"
"Special day," he said. "Died, reincarnated, almost arrested, now here. You?"
She laughed. "I like you already."
She stepped closer, close enough for him to catch her scent—sweet and smoky, like trouble in human form.
"You're not nervous, are you?" she teased.
"Nervous? Me? Never. Just… pacing myself."
Her grin widened. "Good. I like enthusiasm."
Downstairs, laughter and mugs clinked. Someone called out, "Hope you brought protection, stranger!" and the room erupted again.
Mara rolled her eyes. "Ignore them."
Ken chuckled. "Not my first heckling audience."
She pushed him onto the bed with a playful shove. "Then relax. Let me do the hard work."
The System's pink text popped up in the corner of his eye.
[Quest Objective Within Range.]
[Warning: Blushing Detected.]
"Don't you dare narrate this," he muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Mara grinned. "You're a weird one, Ken. But weird's not always bad."
Mara turned from the door, a curious smile still playing on her lips. "So, Ken," she began, motioning loosely around the small, slightly cluttered room, "make yourself at home. It's not much, but it's where I... entertain."
He didn't waste a second. The conversation was already a distraction from the clock ticking down and the heat building between them. While she was still facing the door, taking that half-step toward the center of the room, he was already moving.
He closed the distance, his hands settling firmly around her waist. He pressed his body flush against her back, leaning down to nuzzle the sensitive curve where her neck met her shoulder. He felt her immediate, sharp intake of breath.
"I think I'll start making myself at home right now," Ken murmured, his voice low and warm against her nape. He let his lips brush the skin there, tasting the faint scent of perfume and sweat.
Mara's posture stiffened for only a moment, then she went soft against him, a low, surprised sound escaping her throat. "W-wait... Ken," she stammered, trying to pivot, but his grip was steady.
His fingers, finding the edge of the rough fabric of her skirt, deftly slid underneath. He found the soft, exposed skin of her inner thigh, trailing his thumb up until he reached the warm, slick junction hidden beneath thin cotton. He didn't ask; he simply moved, his middle finger plunging deep with a confident, deliberate push.
Mara's body convulsed. Her eyes flew wide, and she threw her head back, hitting his shoulder. The sound she made was less a startled cry and more a raw, throaty "Agh! Oh!"—a sudden explosion of pleasure that caught in her throat.
"You like that," Ken stated, not as a question, but as a low, assertive observation, pressing his hips forward as his finger found a rhythm, stroking and swirling inside her.
"No... one..." Mara gasped, gripping his arms where they circled her waist, her knuckles white. Her breath hitched, ragged and shallow. "No one has ever... done that. God, yes!" Her voice was strained, vibrating with shock and mounting intensity.
Ken leaned in, biting gently on her earlobe, his breath hot. "Good. I like being first." He increased the speed and pressure, his finger digging in, releasing a torrent of friction and focused sensation.
The sound that left her lips then was intense.
"Aaaaaaaahhh... Mmmmnnnn! Oh, fuck!"
It was the raw, uninhibited moan of someone completely taken by surprise, a desperate, shuddering noise that echoed loudly in the small room. She started to buck backward, grinding her hips against his penetrating finger, seeking more.
The System, ever the intrusive spectator, flashed in the corner of his vision:
[Quest Objective: High Compatibility Seduction (Phase 1) – Complete!]
[Reputation: +50 (Mara is very impressed)]
[Emotional State Detected: Ecstasy]
Ken ignored it, focusing only on the exquisite tension vibrating through Mara's body beneath his hands.
"Tell me what you want, Mara," he demanded, slowing his finger just enough to elicit a pleading, desperate whimper from her.
"More! Please, Ken, don't stop! Harder! Ahh! Make me—make me scream, you happy idiot!" she practically shrieked, her voice thick and wet, her whole body trembling as she pushed back against his hand.
He obliged, pumping his finger with speed and vicious precision, driving her toward a climax that seemed seconds away. She was panting, her muscles tight, her mouth open in a silent pure, overwhelming sensation.