Chapter 1: "The Worst Possible Person for This Job"
Maya Tanaka was going to die because of a fucking vending machine.
Not a noble death. Not a heroic sacrifice. Not even something cool like getting hit by a truck while saving a kitten. No, she was about to meet her maker because she'd gotten her hand stuck in the coin return slot of a temperamental Pocky dispenser at 2 AM.
"Come on, you mechanical bastard," she grunted, wiggling her fingers desperately. The machine had eaten her last 200 yen, and she'd be damned if she was going home empty-handed. Her other arm was fully committed to holding her laptop bag, three volumes of yuri manga, and a convenience store bag containing her dinner of champions: energy drinks and cup noodles.
The vending machine groaned ominously.
"Don't you dare—"
THUNK.
The entire machine tipped forward. Maya had exactly one second to think, "This is embarrassingly stupid," before two hundred pounds of snack-dispensing metal pancaked her against the sidewalk.
Her last coherent thought wasn't profound or meaningful. It was: "I really hope someone clears my browser history."
Then everything went black, accompanied by the cheerful jingle of scattered Pocky boxes raining down like the world's most pathetic funeral confetti.
Maya woke up face-down on cold stone, which was already an improvement over being face-down under a vending machine.
"Ow." She pushed herself up, immediately noticing several things: First, the floor was actual medieval stone, not modern concrete. Second, her body felt... different. Lighter, curvier in places that had definitely been flatter before. Third, she was wearing some kind of rough linen shift instead of her anime-print pajamas.
"What the hell?"
The room around her was like something out of a fantasy movie. Stone walls lined with weapon racks holding swords, axes, and pointy things she couldn't even name. Armor stands displayed gleaming breastplates and chainmail. Everything was meticulously organized and spotlessly clean, like a medieval soldier's fever dream of perfect organization.
A massive wooden table dominated the center, covered with maps, scrolls, and what looked like battle plans. Candles provided flickering light, and a fire crackled in a stone hearth that could have roasted a whole pig.
"Okay, either I'm in the world's most elaborate historical reenactment, or—" She looked down at her definitely-not-her-original hands. "—or I'm having the weirdest near-death hallucination ever."
That's when she heard footsteps on stone stairs.
The woman who descended the spiral staircase was everything Maya's disaster lesbian brain could have conjured in its wildest fantasies, which immediately meant she was in serious trouble.
She was tall—probably six feet of lean muscle and barely contained power. Her dark hair was cropped short in a practical military style, and even in the dim candlelight, Maya could see the network of small scars that marked her as someone who'd seen real combat. She wore simple undergarments: a linen breast band and loose drawstring pants, clearly ready for bed.
But it was her eyes that made Maya's brain short-circuit. Piercing green, sharp with intelligence, and currently narrowed in suspicion as they fixed on the intruder in her home.
"Who the hell are you?" The woman's voice was low, controlled, but carried the kind of authority that suggested she was used to being obeyed immediately.
Maya's mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish. This was exactly the kind of situation where her complete inability to function around attractive women would get her killed. Again.
"I'm... uh..." Maya gestured helplessly at herself. "Lost? Very, very lost. Like, impossibly lost. Dimensionally lost, maybe?"
The woman's eyes narrowed further. In one fluid motion, she grabbed a coil of rope from a nearby weapon rack. "Right. Lost. In my private quarters. In the middle of the night."
"I know how it looks, but—"
"It looks like you're either a very incompetent thief or a very stupid spy." She advanced with predatory grace. "Either way, you're not going anywhere until I figure out which."
Maya tried to back away and immediately tripped over her own feet, landing hard on her ass. "Wait, wait! I'm not a spy! I don't even know where I am! Five minutes ago I was getting crushed by a vending machine in Tokyo!"
"Tokyo?" The woman paused, rope in hand. "Never heard of it. Which kingdom is that in?"
"Kingdom? It's not a—look, this is going to sound insane, but I think I might be dead. Or dreaming. Or both." Maya held up her hands in what she hoped was a non-threatening gesture. "I'm really not dangerous. I once got scared by my own shadow and fell into a fountain."
The woman studied her for a long moment, taking in Maya's obvious confusion and general air of harmless disaster. "You're either telling the truth or you're the worst actress I've ever met."
"Definitely the worst actress. I once forgot my own name during a school presentation."
Despite herself, the woman's mouth twitched slightly. But she still knelt down and began efficiently tying Maya's wrists with military precision. "Well, 'Not-A-Spy,' you can explain your presence to Captain Silvermoon in the morning. I'm just a knight. I don't get paid enough to deal with interdimensional refugees."
"Wait, what's your name?" Maya asked as the rope tightened.
"Sir Elena Blackwater. And you're sleeping on the floor."
That's when the glowing screen appeared.
[WELCOME TO THE YURI HAREM SYSTEM, HOST! Your first target is within range! Good luck! ♡]
Maya stared at the floating text only she could apparently see, then at Elena's confused frown.
"Yeah," Maya sighed, testing her bonds. "I'm definitely dead."