"Damn."
That was the first thing Mason Harper said on what was supposed to be the first day of his adult life.
He stood at the crosswalk, staring up at the towering modern-monstrosity of a college that looked more like a corporate headquarters than a place of learning.
The kind of building that screamed student debt before you even walked in.
Pointed glass edges, steel sculptures that made no sense, and flags waving school colors like this was a sports arena instead of a lecture prison.
Mason adjusted the strap on his backpack, took a breath, and nodded to himself.
He was twenty now. Time to be a responsible adult. Time to step into a new phase of life.
"College, baby," he muttered. "Let's—"
A horn blared.
Mason barely had time to blink before metal met flesh, and his world turned into a blur of noise, pain, and airborne flipping.
The truck — a delivery vehicle from some company named "MagiMart Express" slammed into him like the universe pressing Alt+F4 on his existence.
He soared, bounced, and didn't even get the courtesy of a slow-motion montage.
And then… nothing.
...
Except suddenly, there was something.
Instead of blackness or a long hallway filled with dead relatives or celestial beings whispering secrets of the universe, Mason opened his eyes to find himself… seated.
In an office.
A really nice office.
Polished marble floors. Gold-trimmed bookshelves filled with volumes that looked important but probably weren't.
A large desk with a nameplate that read: "Spiritual Transit Station 001 – Human Division."
And behind that desk sat a woman.
Correction: A maid.
A full-on French maid, complete with lace trim, thigh-high stockings, and a black-and-white dress that frankly had no business being that tight around the chest.
Her glasses perched delicately on her nose, and her silver hair was pulled into a pristine bun.
"Oh, good, you're conscious," she said brightly, flipping through a clipboard. "That was a very clean hit. You cleared the crosswalk with style, Mr. Harper."
Mason blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…Am I dead?"
"Yes," she replied with corporate cheer. "But good news! You've been selected for a special project called Game Insertion. Very exclusive. Very experimental. You've been granted early access."
"I — I'm sorry, what?"
The maid stepped around the desk and handed him a clipboard. "Please fill this out. Standard onboarding procedure. You'll get a chance to customize your appearance, pick a perk or two, and we'll drop you into a simulated world. We're running a beta test for selected souls who showed high potential for adaptability."
Mason took the clipboard numbly. The form had questions like:
『Preferred hair color?』
『Combat or charisma build?』
『Would you like to be taller? (Y/N)』
『How many abs would you like visible at any given time?』
He looked up. "This is... an actual isekai?"
"We avoid the term. Legal reasons," the maid said, waving a hand. "We prefer interactive world reincarnation with gamified mechanics."
"I see."
He stared down at the form. "And, uh… what world exactly am I going into?"
"Ah." The maid smiled. "That would be Harem Academy."
Mason choked. "I'm sorry — what?"
She flipped a small laminated card toward him.
It had a cute anime logo, sparkles, and the tagline: "Unlock your heart, level your love!"
"That can't be right," Mason said slowly. "Isn't that the harem dating sim that went viral last year?"
"The very same. Full immersion. You'll be entering as a unique transfer student. We thought it would be funny — er, I mean, insightful — to drop in someone who hasn't played it."
"But — why me?"
"Well, most souls choose to be reborn as dragons or sword saints or whatever. You were unclaimed, slightly behind on paperwork, and had no outstanding cosmic debt. Also, you clicked 'Agree' without reading the Terms of Rebirth."
"I did not — wait, did I?"
The maid gave him a sympathetic shrug. "You humans scroll and click faster than we can audit."
Mason sat back.
This had to be a dream. A weird dream brought on by stress and caffeine and maybe a poorly microwaved burrito. He looked down at the form again.
One of the questions now read:
『Choose your signature ability (Note: You may only have one and it is assigned randomly anyway)』
『▢ Sword Mastery』
『▢ Charm Amplifier』
『▢ Scene Skipper』
『▢ ??? (You qualify for this one. Trust us.)』
He checked the last one, because at this point, why not?
"Perfect," the maid said, taking the clipboard. "Your class is now: Transfer Student (Wildcard Route). Your unique skills are… ooh, interesting. Harem Link And Pocket Dimension. Haven't seen these ones since the AI flirted with a debug character."
"Wait, wait, wait — what do they do?"
"Oh, you'll figure it out," she chirped. "If you survive the first two days."
"I'm sorry, survive?"
Before he could get an answer, the room began to shimmer.
"Enjoy your stay! Try not to break the game engine this time!" the maid called, waving enthusiastically.
"This time?!"
...
A blink.
The smell of cherry blossoms.
Sunlight warmed his skin, birds chirped in tune, and suddenly Mason found himself standing in the middle of a pristine cobblestone path that cut through a perfectly manicured school courtyard.
Students walked past in stylish uniforms, sparkles danced in the air, and someone's hair was blowing in the wind at a suspiciously cinematic speed.
Above the towering white gates, in gold cursive, were the words probably only he could see:
『HAREM ACADEMY – Where Every Choice is Love』
Mason adjusted his new uniform, felt something beep in his pocket, and pulled out what looked like a magical smartphone.
It lit up and chimed:
『Welcome, Transfer Student!』
『You have entered Chapter 1: "The Boy from Nowhere"』
『Primary Objective: Survive Orientation Week.』
He stared.
Then sighed.
"Damn."