The mansion stands majestically on a sprawling 10,000-square-meter property, surrounded by lush greenery and a private garden. The roof is a majestic, curved tile roof with a subtle, glossy sheen.
A girl, her face hidden, walks toward the boss's mansion with her luggage in tow. She wears a short, pleated electric-blue skirt that falls just above her knees and an oversized white button-down shirt with billowy sleeves, partially tucked in. Her luggage clatters softly as she moves—the wheels rumbling and scraping against the pavement, the buckles and zippers jingling with each step. Her pace is steady, confident, as she approaches the grand entrance.
A group of sharply dressed young boys, resembling boy scouts, stand guard around the mansion. They ensure the estate's security and privacy. As the girl arrives, the boys snap to attention. A muscular boy, clearly the leader, steps forward and bows.
Dressed in a miniature suit, he hands her a small ornate box containing the mansion's keys. "Welcome, ma'am," he says in a surprisingly mature tone. "You are the boss's guest."
"Hmm," Alva utters as she takes the keys and walks inside. There's not a single lady around—only men.
If you walk into a mansion this grand, usually a woman would greet you. Maybe the boss has a thing for handsome guys. Or maybe because he's handsome, he surrounds himself with other handsome men.
Still, I shouldn't jump to conclusions… but he might be gay. Everywhere I go in here, there are only men.
---
The sound of a door closing echoes. Alva steps into the room. She can't stop admiring the beauty of this mansion—the boss's home.
The bed is the stunning centerpiece: a majestic white, four-poster frame with intricately carved wooden accents. Plush white linens and a lace duvet add elegance, topped with pillows of varying sizes and textures.
The walls are painted a soothing cream, complementing the furnishings. Floor-to-ceiling white silk curtains filter in warm natural light. The room glows with sleek silver-based table lamps, tall floor lamps, and recessed lighting.
Maybe he has a passion for design. This place feels like heaven. It's so beautiful.
I wish I could be his girlfriend or wife and live here forever… No, I can't stand seeing the boss's annoying face every day. I can't date or marry someone so rude. He's not my type. And maybe… he's gay.
"I can't wait to lie in this bed," she murmurs with a smile. "But first, I need a bath." It's been a long journey and she's already sweating.
Pulling off her shirt, now in just her skirt and bra, she pauses.
What if he walks in and I'm completely naked? What would happen? No, that's silly. Or… what if it really happens? He is gay, right?
Stop thinking about this, Alva. Why can't I stop?
What if he really comes in? This is his mansion, after all.
She lightly slaps her face. "He won't come in," she convinces herself. "And if he does, I'll fire myself."
This is my privacy now.
Even though she tries to encourage herself, fear still lingers. Still, she must bathe, no matter what.
She walks into the big bathroom. The walls are transparent. Anyone could see in.
What should I do?
He won't come, right? She tries to reassure herself.
She quickly pulls off her skirt. Only her bra and panties remain. Then, she removes them both, revealing her slim figure.
"Is someone there?" she whispers, covering her chest with her hands as she hears something near the door. Probably just her imagination.
A girl with a curvy, figure-8 body shape steps into the tub surrounded by transparent glass. As she bathes, warm water and soap suds flow down her curves, accentuating her hourglass figure. The clear glass walls reveal everything.
---
After the bath, her fear melts away. Maybe he respects her privacy.
The comfy bed nearly lulls her to sleep. The mansion is quiet, eerily so.
She misses Brian or Sophie, who could've at least made her smile—or added noise. Only her breath and heartbeat keep the place from feeling like a graveyard. Then suddenly, a loud grumble—her stomach.
"Enough. I'm starving," she says, placing a hand on her belly and standing up.
As she steps out of her room, she nearly bumps into a boy entering at the same time. They both freeze. Her mouth drops open.
"Your food," he says, his arm stretched, offering a tray of food.
How did he know she was hungry? Is there a camera?
Her eyes search the room and land on a small device.
Oh my God. Has he been watching me? I was naked!
"Are you okay?" the guard asks as she collapses. Her face shows anger, shock, and fear.
And then… she passes out. Or maybe… something else.