The young man—no, Arslan now—leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed as he stared blankly at the lavish room around him. An hour had passed since he woke up, and no matter how many times he retraced his steps, everything remained the same. The warm fire. The velvet drapes. The unfamiliar weight of noble attire was on his shoulders.
This was real.
"But why this game?" he muttered.
He'd read plenty of light novels with the same premise—an ordinary guy gets pulled into a game world. But those were always games with clear storylines, chosen ones, demon lords, or some mysterious goddess guiding them.
'Road to Kings 2' had none of that.
It was a sandbox strategy game. No plot. No endgame. Just menus, alliances, resource management, and endless wars. It had some pop-up events, but it was only served to help your character stats or add flavor to the playthrough.
"Isn't it supposed to be a game with a story?" he sighed, dragging a hand through his tousled blond hair. "Like, something where you get a quest or save the kingdom. What the hell am I supposed to do here—manage taxes and draft soldiers?"
His gaze fell on the ornate mirror again.
"Damn, this guy is so handsome," he muttered instinctively.
Good thing he'd picked a decent appearance—if he'd gone with the default, he'd probably be stuck with a tragic bowl cut for the rest of his life.
As he admired his reflection, a sudden knock echoed through the room.
The door opened smoothly, revealing a young woman who stepped inside with practiced grace. She wore a classic maid uniform, its subtle lace trim and refined tailoring giving it a dignified, elegant air—more ceremonial than practical. Her long, straight black hair flowed neatly down her back, and her calm green eyes radiated quiet attentiveness.
She curtsied gently.
"Good morning, Milord. You've been summoned by the patriarch for breakfast."
Arslan should've simply nodded in acknowledgment. That would've been the usual, expected response.
But instead, he just stood there, staring at the maid—his mouth slightly agape.
Because the moment he laid eyes on her—
A sharp jolt ran through his mind. Not just a jolt. A memory.
The woman standing before him—Cecilia—wasn't just a maid. She was a former spy, planted by his father's sibling—his uncle. Her mission had been simple: monitor Arslan's father and keep a close eye on Arslan's development. A pawn among many in the noble family's silent power struggle.
But over time, things had changed. Thanks to Arslan's innate charm—and the bond that formed between them—Cecilia had turned her back on her original master.
That decision nearly cost her life.
Arslan remembered it all vividly now. Cecilia cornered under the pale light of the moon in a garden behind the estate, blood staining her uniform, breaths shallow. She had fought bravely against the master assassin sent to silence her, but she was outmatched, barely clinging to life.
Then he had arrived.
Young Arslan had charged in, sword drawn, fueled by fury. But the assassin was on a different level. The fight was brutal—Arslan was cut, bleeding, and on the verge of collapse. He had one final attack left in him.
And just when he moved to strike—
His sword ignited with a brilliant light.
Aura.
A manifestation of one's spirit and mastery, attainable only by warriors of high potential. In that moment, even the assassin realized the danger too late. He lunged to end Arslan's life, but Arslan—grinning with wild resolve—deflected the blow and countered with terrifying ferocity.
The assassin stumbled back, overwhelmed. But Arslan didn't stop.
He charged like a madman, blade glowing. The assassin, despite his deadly reputation, stood no chance against the awakened force of a future swordmaster.
In the end, the man fell, begging for mercy.
Arslan gave none.
He plunged his sword through the assassin's heart.
When the battle was over, he returned to Cecilia, who lay trembling and wounded. Gently, he picked her up in a princess carry.
Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, "Master, I'm a traitor… Please, leave me. Even if you take me back, the patriarch won't forgive what I've done."
But Arslan only smiled.
"Cecil, I don't care about your past. You're my household maid. That's all that matters. From today forward, you're mine—and mine alone."
Cecilia turned bright red at his words but eventually gave a soft, tearful nod.
Arslan, watching the memories unfold, began to realize something. The vivid scenes playing out in his mind weren't random flashes—they were familiar. It perfectly matched a specific chain event that took place during the character's childhood phase in the game.
The event had been triggered by the "Naughty" trait he'd chosen during character creation. Characters with that trait occasionally received "First Lover" events, their nature varying depending on the chosen background. Since Arslan had selected a noble lineage, it almost guaranteed a maid-related event.
Normally, the maid event was pretty basic. A coming-of-age scenario where the young noble, going through puberty, ends up sleeping with a maid on the estate.
But rarely—very rarely—this event branched into a chain sequence.
With a low probability, the event evolved into a full chain scenario: the maid turning out to be a spy. From there, a series of branching dialogue choices determined whether the player could win her loyalty and affection. If successful, the final phase involved a dangerous combat encounter with an assassin sent to silence her.
Naturally, Arslan had cleared the entire chain event with ease during his playthrough. And not only that—when the fight sequence triggered, he received a +1 boost to his Sword Mastery. At a glance, it might've seemed like a minor reward, nothing worth getting excited over.
But at the time, Arslan had already been sitting just one point below the next threshold. That single boost was enough to push him from a 'Decent Fighter' to an 'Excellent Fighter'. And with that increase came something far more significant—his Aura Awakening.
All in all, it had been the perfect outcome.
Stats increased. Aura unlocked. And best of all, he'd gained a "Trained Spy" character as both a loyal servant and a secret lover. It should end here.
However, unlike in the game, the memories didn't stop there. After recovering from their wounds, both Arslan and Cecilia were summoned and questioned by the patriarch. Normally, that would have spelled her end as a maid. But due to Arslan's stubborn defiance and unwavering insistence, the patriarch ultimately allowed her to remain in service—as his personal maid.
And emphasizing the 'Lover' status, the next memories start at night time in Arslan's room. The night cloaked Arslan's room in sultry shadows. Cecilia waited in sexy lace underwear, her full boobs heaving, hands tied in a submissive pose on the bed. Her eyes burned with lust, pussy wet for her new master
Arslan, who saw her, immediately grinned and knew her wicked intentions. He swiftly threw off all his clothes, his thick cock pulsing, jumped on her, and ravished her senseless. And from that night, they fucked at every chance they got, even yesterday night too.
Watching that memory, Arslan's face burned red. 'The heck? Was that real?' He couldn't fathom the truth of it since it was all just memories.
It also didn't help that Arslan squirmed and faced in red when he recalled the memory, while Cecilia just stood there calmly as if the night never happened.
Then a sly idea sparked in his mind. To test the memory real or not, he stealthily slid his hand toward Cecilia's chest, cupping her soft boobs with a gentle squeeze. If she snapped, it was fake—he'd laugh it off as a prank. But if she didn't—
"Y-young master… what are you doing? Another maid's outside," she whispered, her face flushing crimson, her voice a lover's tease. "If you want to do it now, those maids outside will snitch to the patriarch, and you'll get scolded again."
Arslan released her, heart pounding, his little bro stirring in his pants as her words confirmed their bond. Cecilia's eyes flicked to his bulge, a sultry smile curling her lips. "Oh my, young master, yours as eager as ever. Just last night we did it all night, yet you're still so hard. The patriarch's calling, but... maybe if you force me—I'd spread mine for you."
It was a tempting offer, but Arslan recalled a memory when he got caught by his father. He remember that if his father found out he screwing in the mansion, his father would kick him out. "No, please. I don't want trouble with my father." He swallowed hard. "Can you tell the maid outside to wait? I need… this to calm down."
"Then, shall I tend your need tonight, Master?" Cecilia purred, her voice low and seductive.
"S-sure," he stammered.
Cecilia flashed a wicked smile, then slipped into her calm maid demeanor and glided out of Arslan's room.
"Holy shit, it's all real," Arslan muttered, slumping into his chair, mind ablaze with heat, waiting for the bulge in his pants to subside.