The first thing Daan noticed when he woke up was the sharp contrast between the dreamlike haze in his head and the crude reality of his messy apartment.
The ceiling fan spun above him, same as ever, lazily, stirring the stale air. Daan lay still, blinking at the cracked paint on the ceiling, wondering how he'd made it back here.
The memory of the beach hit him like a truck—rushing water, a drowning woman, and then the black goo. It was surreal, almost too absurd to believe.
Maybe he was just sleep-deprived. Or high, or both, he couldn't remember, and the stench of open beer cans didn't do him a favor.
He groaned and sat up, feeling the familiar ache from sleeping on his old mattress. A glowing blue window hovered before him as his feet touched the cold floor.
[System Message: Welcome, Daan D. Dickenson. Congratulations! You are now one of the candidates in the Game of Twelve. Your assigned role: Demon of Lust.]
Daan's jaw dropped.
The window shimmered with text, waiting for him to process what it was saying. Before he could even curse at its absurdity, more text scrolled down.
[Explanation: The Game of Twelve is a contest where twelve roles, along with a Hero, are chosen to determine the fate of the world. Each role has unique abilities, and each candidate must complete their Mission to grow stronger to defeat the True Demon.
The True Demon is yet to be chosen, and 7 "Demon Candidates" will compete to become the True Demon, the final antagonist the chosen 12 must face.]
[You have been assigned the role of Demon (Lust). Your objective is to level up by indulging in the sin of Lust.]
Daan rubbed his eyes as if trying to wipe the message from existence. "Great," he muttered. "Out of everything, I get Lust? Couldn't I be the Demon of, like, Sloth? At least that sounds relaxing."
The system wasn't done.
[Skill Unlocked: Normalize]
[Effect: Once a day, you can normalize any action for a target. The target must hear the phrase: 'It is normal for...' followed by the desired action. The action will then seem perfectly reasonable to them.]
That was... unsettling. Daan's eyebrows furrowed. "So, I can make someone think weird shit is normal?"
Before he could dwell on it further, the system gave him another pleasant surprise:
[Mission: Seduce and fuck your landlord within 24 hours.]
[Reward: +1 level, new skill, and stat boost.]
"Are you shitting me?" Daan muttered under his breath, closing the glowing window in frustration, this time with success despite his previous failures.
A sudden knock at the door made him jump. His heart skipped a beat as if the universe was playing a sick joke on him. He stumbled to the door, still half-asleep, and opened it.
Standing in the dim hallway was Ana Lemore—his landlord. She was exactly as he remembered: a gorgeous French woman in her late thirties with soft brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders, sultry brown eyes, and a figure that could stop traffic.
She wore a snug, low-cut top that strained against her massive breasts, along with yoga pants that clung to her wide hips.
For a moment, Daan stood there, mouth slightly agape, until something strange caught his eye—numbers and words hovered above her head, visible only to him:
[Ana Lemore (39), Interest (80), Lewdness: (60), Difficulty: (F-), Tier-2 Grade B]
"What the hell…" Daan whispered under his breath, staring at the strange numbers. They flickered for a moment before settling back into place.
Ana tapped her foot impatiently, her arms folded under her chest, making her breasts look even bigger.
"You know why I'm here, Daan," she said, her accent making even her scolding sound oddly seductive. "Your rent is overdue. Again."
He tried to focus, but the strange stats above her head messed with his brain. 'Interest 80? Lewdness 60?' Was that supposed to mean she was... already halfway into the idea of sleeping with him? And F- difficulty? What did that even mean?
Ana sighed, shifting her weight to one side. "Listen, Daan, I like you. You're a sweet kid, but if you don't pay up soon, I'll have no choice but to evict you."
Daan's eyes flicked to the system message, which still lingered in his mind. [Mission: Seduce and fuck your landlord, 24 hours.] A chill ran down his spine.
It was absurd. Insane, even. Yet, something deep inside him stirred—something the system had awakened. The kind of thing that only a desperate man would even consider.
His eyes flicked back to the hovering stats. 'Lewdness 60....' Did that mean… there was already a chance?
He licked his lips nervously. His mind raced. This was crazy. Completely unhinged. But if the system was real—if the [Normalize] skill worked the way it said it did—then maybe... just maybe...
He took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.
"It is normal for landlords to... negotiate payment through sexual means," Daan said, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop himself.
The second the phrase hit the air, something shifted in Ana's expression. Her stern, no-nonsense demeanor softened, her brows knitting slightly in confusion.
"That's… normal?" she echoed, "It has always been normal, dummy! What are you on about?"
A part of Daan couldn't believe it actually worked. He expected her to slap him, scream at him, or kick him out on the spot.
But instead, Ana bit her lower lip, her gaze dropping ever so slightly as if contemplating the absurdity of what he had just suggested—and finding no reason to object.
"Well," she said slowly, tilting her head. "I suppose... There are many ways to handle overdue payments, but the world is crazy nowadays." She said, her accent still strong.
Daan's heart pounded in his chest. This was happening. This was really happening.
Ana took a step closer, the scent of jasmine and vanilla surrounding him. "Are you sure you want to do this, Daan? I mean... it's normal, then..."
He swallowed hard, every instinct in his body screaming at him to either run or lean into the madness.
The system had thrown him into the deep end, and now, standing before this goddess of a woman, he knew there was no going back.
"Yes," Daan whispered, almost breathlessly. "It's perfectly normal."
Ana's lips curled into a small, mischievous smile. "Alright, then."
Daan felt a strange combination of excitement and terror as the door shut behind them. This was no dream. The system was real, the Mission was real—and if he pulled this off, he'd earn his first reward.
Daan shut the door behind them, the weight of what he'd just committed to settling heavily in his chest, or was it...? Daan could feel something, but it was certainly not guilt.
Ana strolled deeper into his apartment, her hips swaying naturally, every movement slow.
She glanced around the room, her nose wrinkling slightly.
"Mon Dieu, it reeks of beer in here," she muttered, waving a hand in front of her nose, though her voice had a teasing undertone. "You really live like this, Daan?"
She made herself comfortable on his sagging black couch, stretching her legs and arching her back in an almost intentional way.
Her voluptuous body contorted with a feline grace, her breasts pushing forward as she raised her arms above her head.
Daan swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away before the sight distracted him too much.
"I'll get us something to drink," he offered, needing an excuse to distance himself before his nerves worsened.
Ana smiled lazily. "If you have green tea, that would be nice," she said, her accent making the request oddly sensual.
Daan gave a slight nod and went to the kitchen, grateful for the chance to collect his thoughts. But another glowing notification materialized before he could even reach the cabinet where he kept the tea bags.
[System Reminder: Mission Active – Seduce and fuck your landlord within 24 hours.]
[Penalty for Failure: You can never ask Ana Lemore out again.]
[Warning: If you fail three missions, the system will be revoked, and your Demon Candidate role will be forfeited.]
Daan clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of the stakes settles heavily on his shoulders. 'Great,' he thought bitterly. 'So if I mess this up, not only do I lose my shot with Ana—this entire system disappears after three failures. Just perfect.'
He rubbed his eyes, the pressure mounting with every passing second. There was no way out of this mess now. The system had given him a taste of its power but wouldn't let him laze around.
If he wanted to survive—if he wanted to keep this crazy, absurd thing going—he had to see it through.
Daan shook his head, forcing the anxiety down. He wasn't about to let some glowing text intimidate him.
He grabbed the green tea from the cabinet, boiled water, and prepared two cups while trying to formulate a plan.
He carried both cups back into the living room when the tea was ready. Ana was still sprawled across his couch, looking far too comfortable for someone who had come here to collect rent.
Her brown eyes flickered with amusement as she sat up slightly, accepting the tea with a playful smile.
"Merci," she said, blowing softly on the hot liquid before taking a small sip. Her eyes stayed on him, curious and a little too knowing, as if she could sense the turmoil running through his mind. "So... what's your plan, Daan? I doubt green tea alone will cover the rent."
Daan sat down beside her, careful to keep his breathing steady. His pulse raced, but the cool ceramic of the cup in his hands grounded him.
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