The Crimson Glitch

The fluorescent hum of the office was a lullaby of my personal hell. Another late night, another stack of reports, another missed meal. My fingers, stained with ink and the phantom residue of energy drinks, danced across the keyboard, each keystroke a testament to my failing grip on reality. Grace Lu Bai, twenty-eight years old, perpetually exhausted, and dangerously addicted to a niche R18 otome game called "The Devil Butlers."

It was a foolish obsession, I knew. A desperate escape from the mundane grind of my existence. The game offered a world of opulent mansions, possessive demon lords, and forbidden romance – a stark contrast to my cramped apartment and the suffocating weight of my corporate responsibilities. My current fixation was Lucien, the stoic, enigmatic demon butler with eyes that promised both torment and devotion. I'd poured hours, days, weeks into unlocking his route, meticulously choosing dialogue options, and strategically showering him with virtual affection.

Today, however, the game felt miles away. A crucial investor meeting loomed, the kind that could make or break my career. My boss, Mr. Henderson, a man whose hairline receded faster than my hope for a social life, had been breathing down my neck all week. I'd barely slept, fueled by lukewarm coffee and the sheer terror of professional failure.

The presentation was slick, the investors were… wealthy. I was mid-sentence, gesturing with what I hoped was confident authority, explaining projected market growth, when a peculiar wave of dizziness washed over me. Not the usual eye-strain fatigue, but a deep, disorienting vertigo. The room tilted, the sharp lines of the mahogany conference table blurring into a watercolor smear. A cold sweat prickled my forehead.

"Ms. Lu Bai? Are you quite alright?" A distinguished investor, his silver hair catching the light, leaned forward with a concerned frown.

I tried to nod, to force a smile, but my vision tunneled. The voices around me faded into a distorted echo. A metallic tang bloomed on my tongue. The last thing I registered was the sickening sensation of falling, not onto a plush carpet, but into an echoing, obsidian abyss. Then, darkness.

The first sensation was pain. A sharp, searing agony that ripped through my entire being, as if my very bones were being fractured. It wasn't the dull ache of an office chair-induced stiffness, but a violent, primal agony. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy, glued shut by some sticky, viscous substance. I tried to move, to push myself up, but my limbs refused to obey. They felt alien, heavy, and strangely wrong.

A rough texture scraped against my cheek – coarse fabric, smelling faintly of stale perfume and something… animal. A low, guttural growl vibrated through the floor beneath me. It was a sound that sent a chill down my spine, a sound I recognized with terrifying clarity.

Demon Butlers.

My breath hitched. This was… this was not a dream. This was too visceral, too real. I forced my eyes open, the act requiring immense effort. The light that pierced my vision was harsh, a stark contrast to the comforting glow of my monitor. I blinked, the sticky substance finally giving way, and took in my surroundings.

I was on my hands and knees, the coarse rug biting into my skin. The room was opulent, far beyond anything Mr. Henderson's company could afford. Rich velvet drapes hung heavy on arched windows, obscuring any view of the outside world. Gilded furniture gleamed under the flickering light of ornate candelabras. And standing before me, radiating pure, unadulterated hatred, were two figures I knew with terrifying intimacy.

Jack. And Lucien.

Jack, his usually sharp features contorted into a snarl, his broad shoulders tensed like coiled springs. His emerald eyes, normally alight with a subtle amusement when he indulged Elizabeth's whims (or so I'd hoped), now blazed with a fiery rage that threatened to consume him. Beside him, Lucien. The stoic, the enigmatic. But in this moment, there was no stoicism. His dark eyes, usually pools of controlled emotion, were molten pits of fury, a stark contrast to the alabaster of his skin. His jaw was clenched, a vein throbbing insistently at his temple.

And then I saw it. Above their heads, shimmering in the air like malevolent halos, were two meters. They were a sickly, pulsing red, glowing with an almost palpable aura of animosity. They were labeled, in crisp, glowing white script:

[LUCIEN: CORRUPTION 98%] [JACK: CORRUPTION 97%]

My blood ran cold. Corruption. The game mechanic. The ultimate indicator of a butler's despair, their broken spirit, their readiness for revenge. And these meters were… maxed out. Beyond maxed out.

A shrill, chirping sound pierced the tense silence, startling me. It was a high-pitched, almost mechanical squeak, like a distressed bird. From the folds of my unfamiliar, ridiculously voluminous dress, a small, furry creature with wide, intelligent blue eyes popped its head out. It was Kika, my system pet assistant.

"Master! Master! System initializing! Welcome to your new reality!" Kika's voice, tinny and effervescent, echoed in my mind. "Oh dear, oh dear, your vitals are quite… erratic. But focus! The primary objective is clear!"

My mind reeled. System? Objective? Reality? I tried to speak, to form a coherent question, but only a strangled gasp escaped my lips.

Jack took a menacing step forward, his gaze locked onto me, or rather, onto the body I now inhabited. "You," he spat, the word dripping with venom. "You truly are a monster."

Lucien's voice, a low, resonant baritone that I'd once found so intoxicating, now dripped with icy disdain. "Did you truly believe you could continue this charade? That we would remain broken forever?"

The anger radiating from them was a physical force, pushing me back, making me tremble. This wasn't a game anymore. This was a confrontation. My career, my life, my existence had been irrevocably altered. I was no longer Grace Lu Bai, overworked drone. I was Elizabeth, the cruel villainess of "Demon Butlers," and my five demon butlers, the very men I'd spent countless hours trying to romance, were about to enact their revenge.

"Master, please remain calm!" Kika chirped. "The system has assessed the situation. Your host body, Elizabeth, is currently the target of extreme animosity from these… bound individuals. Their corruption levels indicate a critical threshold. The primary directive is: Romance the butlers and lower their corruption, or face the ultimate consequence: death."

Death. The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I looked at Jack and Lucien, their faces etched with a pain that transcended mere anger. They weren't just figures in a game; they were individuals who had clearly suffered immensely. And I, in this body, was the cause.

"The initial death arc has already begun, Master!" Kika continued, her voice gaining a frantic edge. "Sebastian's corruption is at a critical 98%! The original host… she sold him! Sold him into slavery in the underground city, known as the dungeon! His suffering is… profound. You have mere moments before his despair consumes him entirely, and in turn, claims your life as well. Please, Master, act quickly!"

Sebastian. Sold into slavery. The underground city. The "dungeon." It all flooded back from the game's lore – a place of unspeakable horrors, the ultimate fate for those who fell from grace. And he was the butler I'd been most desperate to save in the game, the one whose tragic backstory tugged at my heartstrings the most. Now, it was my reality.

My mind raced. I was Grace, not Elizabeth. I didn't want to be cruel. I wanted to live. But how could I possibly diffuse this explosive rage? How could I possibly romance men who hated me with every fiber of their being, men who were teetering on the brink of enacting their ultimate revenge?

My gaze swept across the opulent room, my mind scrambling for any clue, any memory from the game that might offer a sliver of hope. Elizabeth's cruelty had been legendary, a tool of her own survival, a desperate measure to protect herself and her position. But that didn't matter to Jack and Lucien, not now. All they saw was the pain she had inflicted.

Suddenly, a new voice, deeper and more commanding than the others, cut through the air. It was laced with a chilling authority, a subtle tremor of something far more sinister than mere rage.

"Enough."

My head snapped towards the sound. Standing in the opulent doorway, framed by the dim light, was another figure. Tall, impeccably dressed in a midnight-black suit that seemed to absorb the very light around him, with hair as dark as a raven's wing and eyes that held an unnerving, ancient wisdom. He was familiar. Horrifyingly familiar.

Lucien. This Lucien. Not the one standing beside Jack, but another one. The one who had been my primary obsession in the game. The true Lucien, the powerful demon lord butler who was supposed to be the final boss of Elizabeth's narrative.

But he wasn't glowing with corruption. His meter, hovering above his head, was a cool, unsettling, [LUCIEN PRIME: UNKNOWN].

His gaze, cold and assessing, swept over me, then settled on Jack and the other Lucien. A flicker of something akin to amusement touched his lips, though his eyes remained emotionless. "Elizabeth," he purred, his voice a silken caress that sent shivers down my spine, "you always did have a flair for the dramatic. Causing such a scene."

He took a step into the room, his presence commanding, eclipsing the fury of Jack and the other Lucien. The air crackled with an unseen energy.

"You believe this is your chance for retribution?" he continued, his gaze now fixed on Jack. "To finally break free? You are mistaken." He gestured dismissively towards Jack and the other Lucien. "Their hatred is a predictable echo of your own desperate measures, Elizabeth. A predictable reaction."

He then turned his chilling gaze back to me, his eyes seeming to bore into my very soul, as if seeing the terrified Grace Lu Bai trapped within the villainess's skin.

"But you," he said, his voice dropping to a silken whisper that promised both danger and an unsettling allure, "you are not Elizabeth. And that, my dear, is a far more interesting problem."

He took another slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. The other Lucien and Jack watched, their rage momentarily forgotten, replaced by a flicker of confusion and a dawning fear.

And then, with a speed that defied logic, the other Lucien, the one beside Jack, lunged. Not at me, but at the new Lucien. A guttural roar of pure hatred tore from his throat.

"You! You were the one who orchestrated this!" he shrieked, his corruption meter flaring even brighter. "You manipulated her! You used us!"

But before he could reach the new Lucien, the real Lucien moved. It was a blur of motion. The new Lucien was suddenly thrown across the room, slamming into the ornate desk with a sickening crack.

Then, the new Lucien turned his attention back to me. His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile that promised untold horrors and irresistible temptations. He extended a hand, his fingers long and pale, tipped with sharp, almost claw-like nails.

"Welcome, Grace Lu Bai," he whispered, his voice a venomous caress that echoed in the sudden, terrifying silence. "Your game has just truly begun."

And as his fingers brushed against my cheek, the world dissolved into a blinding flash of crimson light. The last thing I heard was Kika's panicked scream: "Master! The system is overriding! Hostile entity detected! Objective… CHANGED!"

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