Chapter 18 : Apartment Life

Rachel pushed open the door to her apartment, the cool air inside greeting her like a gentle sigh. In one hand, she carried a grocery bag filled with fresh vegetables. In the other, a brand-new mop head—bright, pristine, and still wrapped in glossy plastic that boasted claims like “Superior Water Absorption,” “Newly Upgraded,” and “27cm PVA Head Width.”

The old mop head had long since given up on cleanliness. No amount of scrubbing could save it. It was time for a replacement.

She hadn’t returned to the Bureau of Abnormal Affairs after meeting with Rick. Instead, she’d taken a quiet detour to the supermarket—picked up the mop head, some potatoes, green peppers, and eggplants. It wasn’t exactly a rebellion against duty, but she figured: They won’t miss me for an hour. Might as well be useful in my own space.

She unloaded her haul in the kitchen, placing the green peppers and eggplants into the refrigerator, then set the potatoes neatly in the corner by the kitchen door.

It’s been ages since I’ve made stir-fried eggplant with green peppers and potatoes. Let’s hope it doesn’t end in disaster again, she mused.

From beside the kitchen radiator, Rachel retrieved her toolkit—scissors and a Phillips-head screwdriver—and began tackling the new mop head. The plastic wrap clung stubbornly to the sponge, tucked into crevices in a way that made it impossible to tear off by hand. She sliced through it methodically, the plastic shearing into bits that fluttered to the floor like confetti.

Without a hint of delicacy, Rachel crouched down with legs apart on the tiled floor, her screwdriver working through each stubborn screw that held the old mop head in place. It was awkward, the screws nestled too close to the mop handle, forcing her to kneel and twist uncomfortably for a good while before everything was in position and securely fastened.

With a sigh, she rinsed a rag and began wiping down the furniture, then gave the floors a thorough mopping. She wasn’t fond of housework. Never had been. But now, living alone, there was no one else to do it.

She recalled her life before transmigrating—the clatter of dishes in her mother’s hands, the grumbling complaints that Rachel never scrubbed well enough. Mom always took the lead on cleaning. Now, it was all on her.

Maybe after this mission, I’ll use my salary to finally buy a vacuum cleaner, she thought.

Once everything was spotless, Rachel peeled off her top and sprawled across the cool tile floor. A soft gasp left her lips as the chill kissed her sensitive back.

Lying on a cool floor during the summer… nothing beats that.

But comfort quickly turned to something else—an insistent, growing heat that bloomed beneath her skin.

Ever since she’d awakened in this world—reborn into the body of a beautiful woman—her body had become alarmingly reactive. She’d always been a bit of a pervert in her previous life, sure. But this? This was something else. Every idle moment now came with a pulse, a twitch, a longing. Her indulgent “rewards” to herself had grown more frequent, not less.

Maybe it’s time to try something different?

She got up, wandered into her bedroom, and opened the closet. From within, she pulled out a Japanese-style sailor uniform—a JK outfit. The stark contrast between her mature, older-sister vibe and the schoolgirl uniform made for a strange, almost ironic tension. She liked it.

Next came the long, white thigh-high socks.

In her previous life, the type of clothes didn’t really matter. What mattered were the stockings. For a dyed-in-the-wool stocking enthusiast like her, socks were the main course.

Outfitted and seated before her full-length mirror in a “duck sitting” position, Rachel trailed her fingers over her skin. Her gaze locked on the reflection. Touch turned to tension. And then she collapsed, breathless, on the floor.

Her mind, now a swirling mosaic of fantasies, conjured images she couldn’t control. Always, a man—unknown, faceless—hovering over her, pressing her down, taking advantage of her perfect body. She didn’t know where this submissive streak had come from, but it wrapped around her brain like a ribbon of fog. She never resisted it. Didn’t want to.

After all, she reasoned, every adult video has at least one man and one woman, right? I’m the girl now, so I need a male lead too.

Her tastes had always been specific—nothing like the twisted, brutal stuff. If she ever did touch themes like “sleep assault” or domination, it would only be with fictional characters—fantasy men. Someone like Tengen Uzui. Or Diavolo. Or maybe SilverAsh. At least 2D characters were safe, charming in their own twisted way.

Actually… maybe yuri wouldn’t be bad either…

She flipped onto her side, fantasies spinning wilder by the second. The male lead in her mind, once blurry, suddenly gained sharp definition.

Black hair. Handsome face. A silver prosthetic on the ring finger of his left hand.

Yuhui?

Her breath caught. Her eyes welled up, heat rising.

Why him…?

A man of immense strength. Of secrets. Of danger. He hunted elite fugitives, walked with quiet precision, and carried a presence that dragged her to the edge.

She imagined him now—pressing her down, palm on her cheek, the cold metal of his prosthetic finger brushing against her tongue.

The sensation was maddeningly real.

Why him? What does he want with me?

A heady mix of surrender and desire rushed through her bloodstream, and just as the tears threatened to spill—

Riiing Riiing!

Her phone shattered the fantasy like a hammer.

Rachel snatched the device, seething. “What?!”

Her voice trembled with heat, her face flushed deep crimson.

Fifteen minutes earlier, in the director’s office at the Bureau of Abnormal Affairs…

“So you’re telling me… you just picked Rachel up off the street?” Yuhui stared in disbelief.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Luo Hao replied, rubbing his temple. “The whole thing felt surreal, honestly. I found her crouching under a streetlamp, bawling like a kid. She kept repeating things like, ‘I can never go back,’ and ‘I don’t have a home anymore.’ It was strange. She looked like an adult, but she cried like a lost teenager.”

He paused, then continued, “We ran checks on her. No fingerprint matches, no DNA records, no dental files. It was like she didn’t exist in the Empire.”

“Could be a foreigner,” Yuhui mused, resting his chin on his wrist, eyes distant.

“Possibly,” Luo Hao agreed. “But the moment I sensed the power within her… even she didn’t seem to realize it. With that kind of combat ability, of course I reported it to Duke Ronald.”

“She has the potential to be a living weapon. The Duke personally approved her new surname and identity. If nothing changes, she’ll soon be at his side—as his adopted daughter. And when that day comes… I believe Rachel will become the Duke’s sharpest blade.”