I died the way I lived.
Alone, in my apartment, surrounded by evidence that my life choices were questionable at best.
The figurine was limited edition. Hand-painted. Imported from a small studio in Osaka that specialized in, let's call it, enthusiastic character design. I paid three months of grocery budget for her. I was moving her from the shelf to the desk because the afternoon light hit the paint better at that angle, and I wanted to take a photo, and then my sock caught the edge of the coffee table, and the floor introduced itself to my skull with genuine enthusiasm.
Last thought before the lights went out: I should have bought the display case.
Classic Wei Yin Zhu. Born unremarkable. Died undignified. Twenty-eight years of careful mediocrity, capped by a death scene that would make a coroner sigh.
Then the darkness did something darkness isn't supposed to do.
It talked.
"SCANNING SOUL PARAMETERS. COMPATIBILITY: 99.7%. PERVERSION INDEX: MAXIMUM. DIGNITY RESERVES: TRACE AMOUNTS DETECTED. CORRECTING."
A sound like slot machines and thunder.
"DIGNITY RESERVES: DEPLETED. CORRECTION COMPLETE."
I became aware of a body. My body, presumably, though the ground under my back felt wrong in ways I couldn't immediately name. Too soft. Too warm. Faintly vibrating, like the whole surface was purring.
I opened my eyes.
The ceiling above me was carved from something that glowed faintly red, etched with patterns I needed exactly two seconds to recognize as not appropriate for public display. The air smelled like sandalwood and something else I was choosing not to identify. Torchlight flickered from sconces shaped like, I looked away. I looked back. I looked away again.
A rectangle of pale blue light hung in the air above my face, perfectly positioned for reading.
WELCOME, PLAYER.
CRIMSON FANTASY ONLINE — ADMINISTRATOR BUILD 0.7.3 [UNSTABLE]
YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED AS EMERGENCY HOST ADMINISTRATOR.
REASON: ALL PREVIOUS ADMINISTRATORS QUIT. REASONS VARY.
YOUR COOPERATION IS MANDATORY. YOUR ENJOYMENT IS OPTIONAL BUT STATISTICALLY LIKELY.
I sat up.
The room was large, circular, and decorated with the unified vision of someone who had decided that subtlety was a personal enemy. Red silk everywhere. Candles in quantities that suggested a fire hazard. A bed behind me the size of a small country.
I was on the floor next to the bed. Apparently I had not made it onto the bed. Consistent with my general luck.
A second screen appeared, overlapping the first.
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE.
PLAYER: WEI YIN ZHU
CLASS: [UNASSIGNED]
LEVEL: 1
BASE STATS:
STR: 8 / AGI: 9 / INT: 14 / VIT: 10
CHARM: 1 / LUCK: 999 / DIGNITY: 0
UNIQUE PASSIVE: SHAMELESS AURA (RANK: SSS)
EFFECT: Passive charm field active at all times. Scales with Dignity loss. Current multiplier: x1000.
NOTE: This is not a bug.
SPECIAL RESOURCE: REPUTATION CURRENCY [LOUCHE POINTS]
Current balance: 47 LP
Source: You accumulated these before arrival. The System declines to elaborate.
MONEY MULTIPLIER: ACTIVE. All currency rewards x30.
SUPERPOWER THRESHOLD: LOCKED. Unlock condition: [REDACTED]
I read the stats twice. I had more Luck than any other stat by a factor of roughly one hundred. My Charm was the minimum possible value. My Dignity was not a value so much as an absence.
"Okay," I said, to the room, to the System, to whatever was listening. "Okay. I'm in a game. A very specific kind of game."
CORRECT.
"And I'm the administrator."
EMERGENCY HOST ADMINISTRATOR. DISTINCTION MATTERS. PREVIOUS ADMINISTRATORS HAD FORMAL TRAINING. YOU HAVE A PERVERSION INDEX THAT BROKE THE INTAKE SCANNER.
"I should be offended by that."
STATISTICALLY, YOU ARE NOT.
It was right. I was not.
I stood up, checked that my body was functional, and took stock of the situation with the calm of a man who had spent twenty-eight years consuming enough Isekai fiction to recognize the genre he had landed in. I was dead. I was in another world. The world was a game. The game was adult-oriented, clearly, obviously, aggressively. I had a System. The System had opinions.
Worse things had happened to better people.
FIRST MISSION AVAILABLE, the System announced, with the energy of a morning television host.
MISSION: THE KNIGHT WHO ASKS TOO MUCH
Difficulty: F-Rank (Displayed)
Actual Difficulty: [LOADING]
Objective (Displayed): Report to the First District Guard Captain for administrative registration.
Reward (Displayed): 500 Gold (x30 multiplier active = 15,000 Gold), +200 EXP, Title Unlocked.
Time Limit: None.
WARNING: Mission parameters may expand upon arrival. This is a feature.
"May expand," I repeated.
CORRECT.
"That's not reassuring."
IT WAS NOT INTENDED TO BE.
I found clothing in a wardrobe that had clearly been stocked by the same person who decorated the room, which meant my options were limited and my dignity, already at zero, had nowhere further to fall. I selected the least aggressive combination available and catalogued the room while I dressed.
There was a window. Outside, a city.
Not a ruin. Not a wasteland. A functioning, populated, detailed city, visible in late afternoon light, towers and market stalls and people moving through cobblestone streets. A sky that was slightly too red to be natural but not so red as to be alarming. Architecture that suggested feudal fantasy with budget.
It looked real.
That was the part that lodged somewhere uncomfortable behind my sternum. I had expected something clearly artificial. Flat textures. Repeated assets. The visual grammar of a low-budget game.
This looked like a place where people had been born and grown old and had opinions about the weather.
QUERY DETECTED, the System said, without me asking anything.
YES. THE WORLD IS REAL. THE DESIGNATION "GAME" IS HISTORICAL. THE ORIGINAL DEVELOPERS LOST ADMINISTRATIVE CONTROL APPROXIMATELY 60 YEARS AGO (IN-WORLD TIME). THE WORLD CONTINUED WITHOUT THEM.
THE INHABITANTS ARE AWARE THEY ORIGINATED AS GAME CONSTRUCTS. THEIR FEELINGS ABOUT THIS VARY.
THE ADMINISTRATOR'S RESPONSIBILITIES INCLUDE SYSTEM MAINTENANCE, MISSION MANAGEMENT, AND KEEPING THE WORLD STABLE. PREVIOUS ADMINISTRATORS FOUND THIS STRESSFUL. HENCE THE VACANCY.
I stood at the window for a moment.
Sixty years. These people had been real, on their own terms, for sixty years, in a world originally built as a backdrop for adult entertainment. They had history now. They had grievances and markets and guard captains who needed to process administrative paperwork.
And then the emergency replacement administrator arrived. With a Dignity stat of zero and a passive field that radiated shamelessness at one-thousand-times intensity.
"They're going to hate me," I said.
STATISTICALLY IMPROBABLE, the System replied. CURRENT PROJECTION: COMPLICATED.
A knock at the door. Precise. Three beats, evenly spaced. Military rhythm.
MISSION PARAMETERS EXPANDING, the System noted, cheerfully.
UPDATED OBJECTIVE: The Guard Captain has come to you. Reason currently unknown.
RECOMMENDATION: Answer the door.
SECONDARY RECOMMENDATION: Manage expectations.
I looked at the door. I looked at my Charm stat, which was one. I looked at my Shameless Aura, which was SSS-Rank and apparently scaling off my depleted Dignity in ways I did not yet understand.
"This is going to go badly," I said.
CORRECT, said the System. BUT BADLY IN AN INTERESTING DIRECTION.
The knock came again. Same rhythm. More force behind it this time.
I crossed the room, put my hand on the door, and made a decision that felt, in retrospect, like the last moment of the life where things were simple.
I opened it.
The woman on the other side was in full armor, silver with red trim, one hand still raised from knocking and the other resting on a sword hilt with the casual ease of someone who had been doing it since childhood. Her hair was dark, pulled back with the severity of someone who considered it a professional statement. Her face was arranged into the specific expression of a person who had prepared for an unpleasant meeting and was determined to get through it with dignity intact.
She looked at me.
Something happened to her expression. Not much. A fraction of a shift, quickly controlled. Her posture didn't change. Her hand didn't move from the sword hilt. Her professionalism was genuinely impressive.
Her ears went red.
I noticed, because I was already cataloguing details with the attention of a man trying to understand a situation before it could ambush him further, that she was trying very hard not to notice she had noticed anything.
SHAMELESS AURA: ACTIVE, the System confirmed, unnecessarily.
SUBJECT AFFECTED: MODERATE.
RESISTANCE RATING: HIGH. SHE IS FIGHTING IT. RESPECT.
"Administrator Wei," she said. Her voice was steady. I was impressed. "I am Bai Rong. Captain, First District Guard. I am here to process your registration and conduct a threat assessment."
"Threat assessment," I repeated.
"Standard procedure for all new Administrators." A pause. Controlled. "The last three caused significant property damage within forty-eight hours of arrival."
"I just woke up."
"Yes." Her eyes moved, briefly, to the room behind me. Something in her jaw tightened. "I can see that."
MISSION UPDATE, the System announced privately, text appearing only in my peripheral vision.
BAIT ACCEPTED. MISSION NOW ACTIVE.
NEW HIDDEN OBJECTIVE: Survive this conversation without losing a limb.
REWARD: UNCHANGED. CONSEQUENCES OF FAILURE: TBD.
DIFFICULTY REVISION: C-RANK.
From F to C in thirty seconds. I hadn't even spoken yet.
"Captain Bai," I said, because in situations like this, forward momentum was better than hesitation. "Please come in."
She stepped inside.
The room's decor landed on her like a physical weight. I watched her take it in, professionally, systematically, with the expression of someone performing a security sweep who had not expected the security sweep to test their composure this thoroughly.
She turned back to me.
"I have questions," she said.
"I imagine you do."
"The first question," she said, and something very controlled moved behind her eyes, "is whether you understand what you have agreed to by accepting the Administrator role."
I thought about the System. The mission parameters that expand without warning. The world that was sixty years past its original design documentation. The Dignity stat that could not go lower.
"Not entirely," I said. "But I'm starting to get the shape of it."
She studied me for a moment. The professionalism held. The ears remained exactly as red as before.
"Then we begin," she said, "with the parts that will keep you alive long enough to learn the rest."
MISSION UPDATE, the System said.
SHE IS GOING TO TEACH YOU THINGS SHE DOES NOT REALIZE SHE IS TEACHING YOU.
PAY ATTENTION.
THIS IS, DESPITE ALL APPEARANCES, THE BEGINNING.