The Female Assistant
953 Words
James returned to his lavish penthouse, his footsteps echoing across marble floors that shimmered beneath magnificent crystal chandeliers. However, his mind was far from the luxury surrounding him. The ringing in his ears had finally stopped, but the crimson system warning was still burned into his retinas.
He threw himself onto the genuine leather sofa in the living room. Julian appeared before him as a hyper-realistic virtual projection, standing in a posture of absolute perfection.
"Julian," James called out. "This damn system says I have to choose a female assistant. Something about 'identity synchronization' and 'cosmic hormonal stability.' What’s she even for? Aren't you enough?"
Julian bowed slightly, a subtle, knowing smile playing on his lips. "My Lord, I am an executor unit for administration and protection. However, the female assistant required by the system serves a much broader and more specific purpose. She acts as a catalyst for your energy in the mortal realm."
Julian paused, his gaze steady but the message crystal clear. "She can do anything you desire, My Lord. From managing the hospital assets you’ve just acquired and acting as a diplomatic shield, to fulfilling... your biological needs, should you so command."
James’s face instantly flushed a deep crimson. He cleared his throat loudly, trying to avert his eyes from Julian’s stare. "Biological... needs? Good grief, this system seriously has no filter."
"It is by design, My Lord. The Divine Energy you possess is immense; it occasionally requires a conduit to prevent it from damaging your human vessel," Julian added calmly. "Do you require my assistance in filtering the candidates? I can provide a shortlist of the ten most influential or beautiful women on the planet for your consideration."
"No thanks!" James blurted out, his face still burning. "I can handle it myself. I don't need you giving me a list of high-maintenance international models or royal princesses."
James closed his eyes, summoning the virtual system interface that only he could see. Rows of female silhouettes appeared, each with varying combat and administrative specs. James scrolled through them lazily. He didn't need someone who just looked good at gala parties. He needed someone tough, sharp, and controllable.
[System: Scanning for energy compatibility...]
[Candidate Found: 'Valkyrie-Shadow' Type.]
[Specializations: Infiltration, Crisis Management, Close Quarters Protection, and High-Level Personal Service.]
James clicked the profile without a second thought. "This one. She looks like the type who doesn't talk too much."
[System: Confirmation received. Molecular materialization initialized...]
Suddenly, the air in the center of the room began to vibrate. Particles of golden light gathered, swirling like a beautiful, miniature storm. James stood up, watching the phenomenon with genuine curiosity. Slowly but surely, a figure began to take shape from the feet up.
A woman emerged from the fading light. She wore a skin-tight black leather outfit that perfectly hugged every curve of her tall, slender frame. Her raven-black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, accentuating her long, elegant neck. Her face was a lethal mix of deadly beauty and cold grace. Her eyes—large, round, and a stunning sapphire blue—locked onto James with an intensity that took his breath away.
She stepped forward, her boots making a sharp, authoritative click on the marble. She bowed respectfully, though her movements were as fluid as a leopard at rest.
"Reporting for duty," her voice was soft, yet possessed a deep, sultry undertone. "My unit designation is V-09, but for your convenience in this world, I use the human name: Freya Ciel."
James swallowed hard. The figure before him was far more intimidating than he had imagined. "Freya... so, what exactly can you do? Julian said you could do 'anything'."
Freya didn't answer with words. Instead, she stepped forward with a bold, almost playful grace. Caught off guard, James could only freeze as Freya suddenly sat on his lap, draping one slender arm around his neck. The scent of her perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and gunpowder—filled his senses.
Freya leaned in close to his ear, her warm breath sending a shiver down his spine. "Master..." she whispered with a heated, provocative tone. "I truly can do anything. Whatever is on your mind right now... I can make it a reality."
James jolted in shock, his heart racing—not from fear, but from the sudden assault on his senses. He quickly grabbed Freya’s shoulders and pushed her back slightly, even as his hands trembled.
"Okay! Okay, I get it!" James stammered, his voice cracking with nervousness. He stood up abruptly, nearly sending Freya toppling if she hadn't possessed such incredible balance. "First task! I’m hungry. Since you said you can do anything, go to the kitchen and cook me something!"
Freya stood up, casually smoothing out her tight leather suit. She offered a faint smile—one that was hard to read, half-obedient and half-defiant. "Order received, My Lord. I shall prepare something you will never forget."
Freya turned and glided toward the modern kitchen, which was packed with the penthouse's state-of-the-art appliances. James watched her go, then turned to Julian, who was still standing there with an expressionless face.
"Are you sure she can even cook?" James whispered to Julian. "Based on that outfit, she looks more like someone who snaps necks than someone who chops onions."
"She is a perfect assistant unit, My Lord," Julian replied calmly. "However, a combat assistant's definition of 'cooking' might differ slightly from standard human expectations. Let us simply hope she doesn't use a grenade to open a can of soup."
James let out a long sigh, sinking back into the sofa and rubbing his temples. He had no idea what was about to be served on his table.
- Writer
