Mylora’s childhood had nothing to do with the word “happiness.”

Her mother, a noble’s mistress, was abandoned after becoming pregnant and left to scrape by in the slums, raising Mylora alone through sheer hardship. Growing up in poverty, Mylora became an adventurer a year after her mother’s passing, relying on street-brawling-level martial arts to survive.

From childhood, resentment for the upper class was etched deep into her bones.

She despised those born with silver spoons in their mouths.

Frustration simmered at her own powerlessness.

She craved change—yearning to carve her name into legend like the heroes of epic tales.

So when she found that ring hiding a system inside a ruined relic, she saw it as fate’s apology for her suffering.

The ring held an intelligent advisor from an ancient civilization (though she had no clue what a “system” even was), logging secrets and mapping a fast-track path to power—revealing treasures that could catapult her to greatness.

But one condition stood firm: her raw strength *had* to be enough. Without it, even god-tier cheat items were useless. First, she needed to activate a special mage tower housing an ancient archmage’s power-amplifying secret. Her immediate goal? Find the key.

Guided by the system, she came to Amana Forest—the key was held by the local lord.

She *would* get it. No slacking. Not even in sleep—

“Hah!!!”

She slashed the phantom charging head-on, pivoted to counter those flanking her, adapted mid-fight, and cut them down.

【Progress noted. Training completion speed improved by 1.07% versus yesterday.】 The system’s tone stayed flat.

During deep sleep, it built dream-training grounds—virtual phantoms honing her shaky combat basics.

“Next round!”

【Recommend rest. Mental fatigue accumulates, even in dreams.】

“No problem! Bring it!”

【Acknowledged.】

…

…

…

Exhausted after training, Mylora knew the “Tataliya Flow” sword style demanded immense physique and mana. For now, she could only drill the fundamentals.

She logged out of the system space—and finally slept.

…

…

…

How long had she slept?

So tired…

So lonely…

The path to strength was always lonely—but it still ached.

If only… Mom were here…

“Mom…”

A muffled whisper escaped her lips.

Then—something felt off.

Her cheek pressed against something soft. Warm.

The bed felt tighter.

A sweet, floral scent lingered.

“Mommy’s here~”

“!?”

Mylora jolted awake—and saw it.

A valley.

A *deep* valley, filling her entire field of view.

“?????”

She scrambled backward. Blinking clear, she saw Guild Master Torina Dewell *in her bed*, having hugged her moments ago—wearing a sheer silk nightgown that left *everything* visible.

“Good morning, Mylora-chan 💕” Torina offered what she thought was a gentle smile.

And Mylora—

“PERVERT!!!???”

—snatched the bedside sword and thrust! Torina flipped away with a thud, tumbling off the bed as the blade *thwacked* through the mattress.

“Was that necessary!? I’m not a pervert!” Torina huffed.

“Then why were you in my bed at dawn?!”

“Well—that is—ahem!”

Torina rose gracefully, smoothing her raven-black hair into poised elegance. Eyes slightly upturned, crimson irises gleaming with bewitching allure, lips curved in dangerous temptation—she was a fairy-tale enchantress tempting ruin.

In a voice she deemed sweetly sincere:

“I simply wished for friendly, deep exchange—to understand each other thoroughly, and be dyed completely in one another’s colors ❤”

“Do you *hear* yourself!?”

“As guild master, is building (a good relationship) with a member so strange?”

“You want to get (yuri) with me??”

“What’s wrong? I’ve built (great relationships) with everyone. We’ll be close too.”

“*Everyone*!?”

Mylora froze. This woman wasn’t just a blunt lesbian—she was a silver party maniac!?

“So join (our warm family)! Let’s all build (great relationships) together.”

“Join (the silver party)? Build (relationships) together??”

Mylora’s mind short-circuited. Not only chaotic private life—but dragging *her* into it?!

“Come now, Miss Milora Sistem, let’s shake hands and—”

“D-don’t come closer! I’m not dressed!”

Mylora dodged. She slept lightly—just a thin shirt over her pale, slender frame, *nothing* underneath. She scrambled to the wardrobe, flung it open—and froze.

Her underwear. All intimate wear. *Gone.*

“Where’s my underwear?!”

“Oh, I took them.”

“!?!”

A lesbian silver-party enthusiast *and* an underwear thief?! Some weird fetish?!

“Yours were worn. I got you new ones—a little gift.”

Torina pointed to a paper package. Mylora opened it:

DARING ☆ LACE

YURI ☆ BLISS ☆ SUSPENDERS

SHOCKINGLY ☆ SHEER ☆ OPENWORK

“………………"

Words failed. She could only gibber.

“I bought the priciest sets from the city’s finest shop—same styles I wear! Hehe, no need to thank me~” Torina beamed, proud as if she’d performed a miracle.

“……………… You want me… to wear *these*?”

“Yes! Wear them! Proper attire makes things smoother! (You know—so we can happily adventure together!)”

“…Wear *these*… and then ‘handle business’? (Meaning: super suggestive lingerie for some weird party…)”

Just imagining it made Mylora dizzy. Did nobles really play *this* fast?

“Oh right—breakfast! I made you something special!”

Torina wheeled in a cart piled with fragrant delicacies: roasted viper meat, salt-baked abyssal oysters, blood ginseng tea, tentacle essence mixed with horny goat weed, golden mushrooms steeped in goji berries… Mylora’s scalp prickled.

Having worked at a slum apothecary as a child, she recognized every ingredient. All were potent vitality boosters. Eat this much, and *anyone*—man or woman—would catch a serious red buff.

(This… this damn woman’s in such a hurry!? How *intense* does she plan to make it after this meal???)