Arin threw on a plain brown T-shirt and loose black cotton pants, the fabric sticking slightly to his still-damp skin. He darted to his door, cracked it open, and peered out.
Left: clear.
Right: Jenny was already three steps from Jasmine's door, one hand reaching for the handle.
"Ma'am!" he called, louder than intended.
Jenny's head snapped toward him. In that exact split-second, the door to 3-C clicked shut from the inside with perfect timing. Jenny froze, hand hovering in mid-air, then slowly lowered it. Her sharp heels turned and clicked toward Arin instead.
"Yes… what is it, young man?" Her voice was smooth, but her eyes were locked on him like a predator measuring prey.
"U-uh… plate!" Arin blurted, brain scrambling. "Your plate! I forgot to return it. One second, I'll grab it right now!"
Before she could reply, he spun, sprinted to the kitchen, yanked her plate from the sink and, scrubbed it frantically with a sponge, and wiped it dry with a kitchen towel.
Ten seconds later he was back, thrusting it toward her with both hands like a peace offering.
"Here, ma'am… your plate."
Jenny accepted it gracefully, fingers brushing his for a fraction longer than necessary. She didn't move. Her gaze narrowed.
"Young man… mind telling me why you were running around the hallway in just a towel, coming out of someone else's room?"
Arin's throat went dry. "I-I was having lunch, and the soup was super hot, and it spilled all over my clothes! So I rushed to change and… uh… saw you in the hall, remembered the plate, and… yeah. That's it."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. She clearly wasn't buying a single word, but she let it slide—for now.
"Is that so…" She tilted her head, eyes glinting.
"N-nope! That's the whole story!" Arin laughed, the sound painfully forced.
Jenny gave a small hum. "Well then… thank you for the plate, I suppose."
She turned to leave. Arin, in a moment of pure panic-flirt instinct, called after her.
"And ma'am—thanks for the cake! Seriously, you're an amazing cook!".
The compliment hit her like a lightning bolt straight between the legs. Jenny's step faltered. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily. Heat flooded her core so fast her knees nearly buckled.
'That voice again… why does it make me—'
Her mind flashed to the obscene bulge under that towel. Her breath hitched. 'That thing was real. Abnormally, terrifyingly big. What the hell is going on in this apartment?'.
She pinched her arm hard.
"Ouch—"
Not a dream.
'There's something wrong with that Arin kid… something dangerously fishy, and way too big'. She whispered under her breath.
*Thud*
Jenny disappeared upstairs, plate clutched to her chest like a lifeline.
The second her door shut, Arin exhaled, counted to five, then slipped across the hall. Three soft knocks on 3-C.
He eased the door open and stepped inside.
The first thing that greeted him was Jasmine's perfect, bare ass, high in the air as she knelt on the floor, back arched.
*SLAP!*
His palm connected with Jasmine's bare ass, the cheek rippling under the impact.
"Anhh~" A sweet moan slipped out as she knelt on the floor, still wiping his mess with a towel.
"Arin, quit it. Let me clean your disaster first…" she scolded half-heartedly, but her hips pushed back into his hand all the same.
*SMACK!*
"This is the last one, Aunt Jas… promise~" he teased with a shit-eating grin, then leapt onto her bed like a conquering king.
[ Q1. Slap a MILF once COMPLETED]
[+5 skill points | 1000 EXP ]
[ LEVELED UP ]
[ Bonus Reward: 6000 EXP ]
He quickly checked his [ STATS ]
—————
NAME: Arin Aurante
DESIRE: MILF
RANK: F [ 20/100 ]
LEVEL: 5 [ 6000/8000 EXP ]
SKILL POINTS: 90
→ [Free Rare Skill Card guaranteed at Level 10]
—————
Arin's lips curled into a wicked grin as he eyed his stats. Ninety skill points glowed brightly on the screen—just one fat dump away from shattering the F-rank ceiling whenever he felt like it.
But… would it really be worth it?
Just dump the points, smash through to E-rank, craft stronger cards, and keep railing milfs until the end of time. Was the ladder actually that short and sweet, or was the System dangling the carrot for a reason?.
Every level so far had come with suspiciously fat bonuses, like someone behind the curtain was desperate for him to hit level 10 yesterday.
Arin narrowed his eyes.
Something was pushing him, hard.
He flicked his wrist and opened [Passive Skill Craft].
The 3D die floated in the left pane, spinning lazily, ready to spit out another free random card like a gacha machine.
He tapped it.
The die whirred, accelerated, then collapsed into a familiar pitch-black sphere.
"F"
—————
[Lingering Touch (F-Rank)]: When your skin brushes a married woman who already harbors even faint affection, a slow fire ignites at the point of contact.
Each second the memory lingers in her mind, the blaze intensifies.
At 100%, the fire consumes her completely—she becomes a soaked, whimpering slave to that single spot, begging pathetically for your touch again.
—————
Arin stared at the card, lips curling in open disgust. Of course it was another recycled F-rank clone.
From Gaze → Voice → now Touch. Same slow-burn curse, just swapping the trigger like a lazy DJ remixing the same beat.
The System wasn't even pretending to be creative anymore.
He flicked the card toward the glowing dustbin icon without a second thought.
[Are you sure you want to delete this skill?]
[YES / NO]
Yes.
'At this rate I'll be rotting in F-rank forever…' Arin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Come on, think arin think... There has to be something."
69 seconds of silence. Then his eyes snapped open, gleaming with wicked clarity. A single, gloriously scummy idea detonated in his head.
Instead of blowing all ninety points like some brain-dead whale on one reckless gamble… why not just craft a few cheap, throwaway cards and delete them right after?.
Each creation still feeds the rank-up progress bar, but the cost is basically nothing. Slow, safe, and deliciously exploitative.
Arin's grin turned positively demonic.
He cracked his neck, leaned forward, and typed with deliberate, mocking slowness:
[ Skill Display Name: OOGA BOOGA ]
[ PROCESSING… ]
[ NEW SKILL { OOGA BOOGA } CREATED ]
[ SKILL DESCRIPTION: ____ ]