Red Dragon's House Call

While killing time waiting for comments on the announcement, the chat room for the racial leaders—those who'd checked the details—was on fire.

A heated reaction to the currency. But aside from the material, there were no plans at all. We couldn't even know if it was feasible before the upgrade.

The chat room was buzzing thanks to the five dwarves. Three of them were chatting today, no less. That's how I learned my paid slave's nickname was "Nosy Lass." The dwarf cough experiments seemed to be going smoothly too.

After sharing the info, I checked the comments on the announcement.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reactions weren't that intense yet—maybe because these functions didn't hit home big time. But soon enough, they'd be addicted. Heh heh.

I let out an evil chuckle watching the gallery users on the path to corruption. Someone seemed to have evil trolling plans, but that was our paid slaves' job. The patrols might need a little reward after the update.

Sora was voicing her distress. Must've been shocked by some troll comment.

"Haha. But the patrols are working hard, so it'll be fine."

I nodded. Yeah, setting criteria upfront was smart. Only the non-baguette-desperate folks would troll, easing the patrols' load.

To grant Sora's earnest request, I opened the patrol chat. Time to double-check if those criteria ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were right too.

Surprisingly, yeah, those were the real criteria. They let corpse and undead memes slide all the time—why freak over that stuff?

Promised the patrols sweet rewards and dipped quick. They'll tough it out—they chose this gig. Grit your teeth and bear it.

I cheered on my paid slaves inwardly and drafted the relevant notice.

"No omissions... perfect." Double-checked as always and posted.

Time to rest? I rolled my stiff neck and was about to tell Sora on my lap.

But before I could, she hopped off. My rest vibes must've been obvious—kinda awkward.

"Haha. Sora, want anything? Taking a quick break."

Nothing beats offering food when embarrassed. I waited for her usual happy reply.

But her tense reply hit instead. Straight line? Flying? Vast mana? Only one thing came to mind.

Praying I was wrong, I asked Sora.

"Sora? Think I'm right? House call...?"

"Why though..?"

I'd worked diligently without greed. Managed the gallery, fertilizer experiments nearly ready to distribute, dwarf and elf issues almost solved. Too slow? Barely over a week?

Couldn't make sense of it, so I scanned for defenses. My only weapon, the K2C1 rifle, hung neatly on the wall. The Four-eyed Wolves... these punks were already belly-up in surrender.

I shifted from useless mutts to Sora. "Sora? Will you fight with me...?"

Sora was belly-up in surrender too. You too, Sora...! Told me to prepare!

I ignored my useless pets and grabbed the rifle quick. Might not help, but needed the mental comfort. Slapped in a mag, chambered, aimed at the bunker door.

Sora faithfully secretary-ing despite belly-up. Should I belly-up too? Maybe showing pathetic surrender beats half-assed resistance? I seriously pondered.

Was even that a luxury? Knock-knock-knock.

A indifferent knock ignoring my angst. Panting pups and my breath halted.

Her clear voice pierced the bunker walls like they didn't exist, urging me to open up right now.