Seizing a book from the shelf, I hold it with determined intent, ready to defend against any potential threat from the mysterious woman. In the newfound glow of light, her captivating features become apparent, casting an otherworldly allure that momentarily steals focus from the nondescript tome in my hands. The room teeters on the edge of anticipation, caught between the pages of the book and the enigmatic beauty before me.
Adorned with shiny, crimson locks that cascaded down her back, she seemed to take meticulous care of her hair. Her skin, fair as snow, could rival the fairest of fairy tales. A figure that belonged to dreams—long legs, a slender frame, and a generously endowed bust. Yet, amidst this ethereal beauty, two prominent horns emerged from her head, a stark contrast to her otherwise enchanting appearance.
"—Is she doing the cosplay of a demon seductress?" I mused aloud, drawn closer to her as I leaned down to examine her features. She wore a black one-piece dress that teased the neckline, secured by a delicate lace around her neck. The hem of her dress brushed just above her knees, revealing a pair of alluring legs. Heavy-looking bracelets adorned her wrists, and a black collar encircled her neck.
Her lips, naturally tinged with pink, possessed an undeniable allure. Though not plump, there was an inexplicable charm that made me contemplate the idea of a heavenly kiss.
As I carefully extended my hand to touch the horns, a sense of bewilderment washed over me when my attempt to pull them out proved futile. They clung to her head with an unyielding stubbornness, as if they were an integral part of her, as hard as bone.
"—What?" I gasped in disbelief. My fingers made another attempt at prying them free when, suddenly—
"—WAAAAH!" With an unexpected burst of energy, she jolted upright, letting out a piercing scream. Startled by her reaction, I mirrored her fright, finding myself on the ground in sheer shock. Her eyes widened, mouth agape, and a visible sheen of confusion-laden sweat adorned her brow.
"Who are you?" I questioned, fully aware that she couldn't respond. The sight of her, wearing an expression of genuine confusion, left me grappling with the strange circumstances. It was as though she, too, was a pawn in this perplexing game.
I rose to my feet and retreated to the living room, my gaze settling on the colossal 10-feet carton that stood proudly with a conspicuous hole. A realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.
"Knew it..." I muttered to myself, my eyes twitching with a cocktail of unknown emotions. The panic attack dispatched by my parents was, in reality, a woman all along. And not just any woman—the presence of those horns hinted at a myriad of possibilities, and given my eccentric parents, the idea of receiving a demon or monster through courier didn't seem as far-fetched as it should have.
"What should I do about this now?" I mutter, scratching my head in contemplation. As if on cue, the creaking of the door catches my attention, and upon turning back, I find the horned woman maintaining a cautious distance from me at the bedroom entrance. She brandishes a pen as if it were a weapon, pointing it at me with trembling hands and legs.
"Thou wretched MAGGOT! How dare thou abduct me, a being of superior ilk? Doth life seem dull in thine eyes, perchance!"
Her voice carries a mixture of wrath and courage, yet underneath her bold facade, she attempts to stretch her short dress down with one hand, modestly covering herself as best as she can. I can't help but wonder if it was truly her choice to wear such a revealing outfit.
Amidst her trembling fear, I recognize the vulnerability beneath the surface. It becomes clear that, much like myself, she's a victim of my parents' eccentric antics.
"Uh, miss, could you please hold that pen down? Also, let's calm down and talk it all out! English? Can you talk in modern English? And what's perchance! That aside, I'm not the one who abducted you!"
With a forced smile, I attempt to bridge the tense gap between us, urging her to calm down and engage in a conversation. Slowly, I advance towards her, my hands outstretched in a pacifying gesture. In response, she readies the pointed pen like a dagger, a defensive stance against an imagined foe, stepping back as I approach.
Amidst this delicate dance, a sudden and thunderous rumbling shakes the room.
"—Huh?" Confusion clouds my expression, but the source of the commotion becomes clear rather swiftly—the woman's stomach. She seems oblivious until a moment later, her face turning crimson as she clutches her stomach, unintentionally lowering her guard in embarrassment. Tears well up in her eyes as she glares daggers at me.
Feeling a twinge of pity rather than fear, I summon some courage and inquire, "Want me to whip up a quick meal?" My awkward smile accompanies the offer.
Humiliated yet undoubtedly hungry, she nods in silent acknowledgment of her defeat. It's a scummy thought, but observing her mix of strength and vulnerability, I can't help but find her adorable.