The Managers' Crown
Just picking up one fuzzy animal hat, and 300 million won—a horrifying number—flashed across the screen.
In that sense, it really hammered home how utterly worthless Jangbi and Gold Sun—my so-called generous benefactors—truly were.
They'd made such a fuss about presenting me with a "crown" at first, but when they shoved this bizarre fuzzy animal sleep hat my way, I figured the managers were straight-up insulting me. Yet judging by the lines popping up in the system window, this thing really was a crown of sorts.
I ran my fingers over the soft fur and summoned the status screen.
"Status."
◈ Origin: Earth-18596 invaded the alien planet 'Tuma-18596.' Humanity mercilessly slaughtered the natives and enslaved them. To crush their will to resist, they lured their king into a trap, captured him alive, and peeled the scalp from his head while he still breathed to craft the Managers' Crown. The soul of that great king—who died with his skin flayed from his body—lingers within, forever yearning to exterminate humanity.
"......"
It was an item steeped in a brutally horrific and terrifying backstory.
What the hell is this creepy thing?
A fuzzy hat haunted by the vengeful spirit of an alien planetary king, brutally murdered and now cursing humanity to extinction. This wasn't a crown or even a hat—it was just a scrap of furred hide, a piece of the deceased's remains.
A wave of disgust crashed over me.
"Can I really wear this on my head?"
Feeling uneasy, I glanced at the security guard and the mascots. But the guard just stood there like a mannequin with an exaggerated smile plastered on, and the mascots stared back with the lifeless eyes of inanimate dolls. There wasn't a single clue to read their emotions.
Fine, the origin was creepy as hell, but if the performance held up, that changed everything. I shifted my gaze to the next section.
◈ Doubles all stats of your selected avatar while worn.
◈ Voyeur Perk: Observe every corner of the King's Domain in real-time. If a familiar is present, you can even peek beyond the domain borders. Satisfy your voyeuristic urges completely.
Current King's Domain:The old officetel building
"Not bad at all."
I liked the outrageous effect of doubling the avatar's stats. After a full day painfully experiencing the cursed stamina of this beautiful hikikomori girl, I decided to shelve the creep factor for now.
While I was at it, I figured I'd check how my own status had changed. I focused inward and summoned my status screen.
"Status."
All my stats had doubled. Originally, they were Strength 1, Speed 1, Intellect 15, Mana 1. I couldn't feel any immediate change in my body despite the numbers going up, but it still felt good.
Unfortunately, intellect seemed exempt from the crown's effect—still 15, same as before. Could I turn this trash avatar into an unbeatable force by clearing a few more quests?
But there was a new "Stamina" stat that hadn't shown up before. With the crown active, it was only at 0.5?
Does that mean it was so pathetically low before that it didn't even register?
I'd assumed 1 was the minimum, but this was ridiculous. And this was after doubling. It was absurd, but at this point, I just shrugged it off.
"So how do I use this voyeur perk?"
The system kept calling me a pervert at every turn, which pissed me off, but since it benefited me, I let it slide.
I muttered it offhand, and the security guard immediately responded.
"Your Majesty. Think. Of the place. You wish. To see. Focus. And observe."
"Aigoo, poor old man... Do you at least remember your fine daughter and son's names?"
Even at my pitying question, the guard just tilted his head like he couldn't comprehend.
"Your Majesty. Think. Of the place. You wish. To see. Focus. And observe."
"Yeah, yeah, got it."
So basically, picture the spot and focus to see it. I immediately visualized our officetel building, and like launching a drone, a real-time aerial view of the rundown structure imprinted on my retina.
"Whoa......"
I concentrated harder, yearning to peer inside, and the viewpoint sucked inward. Suddenly, I could see me, the managers, and Jangbi all at once.
Staring down at myself from a third-person perspective felt profoundly strange—like becoming a god overlooking the mortal realm.
A tiny girl in a grotesque fuzzy hat, surrounded by nightmarish monsters. Seeing that contrast objectively really drove home how fragile I was; one swat from those beasts, and I'd be straight to the afterlife.
...Have I been too rough on Jangbi all this time?
Memories flashed of treating him like a disposable office grunt despite my bottom-tier stats, sending chills down my spine.
No, focus. Focus.
At my will, I could inspect every nook and cranny of the building's interior. The rundown mix of studios, two-rooms, and apartments mostly had their front doors smashed in. The surviving residents sat dazed, the shock yet to fade.
Ah, as expected...
Bodies littered spots here and there. Five tenants killed in the Black Orc raid. Luckily, Grandma and her grandson on the second floor were fine—their door intact, maybe the orcs skipped that floor.
Room 702 seemed okay too. Door wrecked, but the family I knew—all alive.
Phew, good.
While others sat stunned, 702's folks were already clearing shattered furniture. Only their little daughter stared blankly from the sofa.
Curiosity struck. Could I check status screens through the crown's view? Focusing on 702 inside and out, I summoned a status.
"Huh?"
I spotted something odd. Loyalty was 0 across the board, but EXP differed. Like the 100 points I'd earned, Cheolyoung had snagged 3.
Just to check, I scanned everyone in the building. Six people total had EXP, including him. I'd expected Gold Sun—who tried saving me—to top the list, but an unexpected figure led.
After sending the managers off, I need to dig into this first.
One thing was clear: The system rewarded "appropriate actions" with EXP. And those actions might even earn me some cash.
"Well, well?"
An idea flashed through my mind—even I felt sleazy thinking it up. A foolproof way to make sure they couldn't refuse my proposals. With all the PC functions I'd skimmed earlier, manipulating tenants for my benefit would be child's play.
...Am I a total piece of shit?
A twinge of conscience hit, but I brushed it off quick. Better a living scum than a dead hero—scum gets a hundred times happier. Besides, I wasn't just scum. On a national scale, I'd be a competent leader running a "win-win"—prosperous citizens and an even richer ruler.
The great leader up north popped into my head; I shook it away. I'd feed my people too! First, solve their food, clothing, shelter—these precious pig... er, citizens.
A method flickered to mind; worth researching. I'd seen enough of the crown's power to wrap up, but something kept nagging.
Among survivors, two groups seemed mentally intact: 702 and the college kids. Hearing them murmur piqued my curiosity—what were they saying?
Can the crown's power eavesdrop too...? Nah, probably not that voyeuristic.
Not because of any pervy tendencies. A great leader listens to the people's voice—a sage king, that's me. For real.
I'm usually indifferent to gossip anyway. Curious, I focused on the college group's chatter. The mumbling noise faded, sharpening to whispers right beside me.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Those black bastards weren't human, right? You think we're dead and stuck in purgatory or something?"
"The mascot-masked freaks creeped me out more. Did you see? One of 'em sprouted a massive axe from its arm."
Nothing special—just lamenting the terror and fretting over what came next.
Other perverts bow in awe to your perverted prowess.
You suit the title "King of Perverts" more than "King of Managers."
Accept class change? Yes / No
I casually clicked No and ignored the system's dumb joke.
Now shifting to 702, I realized I'd been too absorbed in my own stuff with the managers watching. Wasn't I the top boss back at the old job—always kind to underlings?
Not worried they'd one-shot me if annoyed. Nope.
"Ahem, sorry. Got caught up in my thing. So, anything else you need from me?"
The guard and mascots shook their heads vigorously, as if I'd said something absurd.
"Your Majesty. We beseech. You to grant. Us tasks. Of joy. Your grace."
The managers were begging for work. Their job was building management, after all—no tasks, no purpose.
So what's most urgent right now?
Fixing the busted front doors? Cleaning blood-smeared halls? Nah. The answer was obvious.
"Anyone here who can fix the elevator, raise your hand!"