The Mad Dog Renews His Contract

After screeching at the top of my lungs about retirement and raising hell, I ultimately collapsed before the sheer, overwhelming flex of imperial wealth.

I signed a four-year contract extension, and once again, the Dragonia Empire became my benevolent sugar daddy.

Still, I had not a single shred of regret.

Four fucking billion gold! Plus prime real estate and my very own property!

On top of that, surviving just four measly years meant a guaranteed, golden retirement. Who in their right mind could turn that down? If someone actually walked away from an offer like that, even the Buddha himself would descend from Nirvana to ask them to be best friends. Say whatever you want about the Empire, but you have to respect the absurd size of their wallet.

At any rate, with the contract officially signed and settled, a sudden question crept into my mind, and I voiced it aloud.

"Come to think of it, aren't the academy entrance exams already over? How are you planning to shove me in? Don't tell me I'm going in as a professor?"

"A professor with that brain of yours? We have already handled the arrangements, so put your worries to rest and focus on getting fitted for a uniform."

A spike of irritation flared at the blatant insult to my intellect, but reflecting on both my past life and this current one, I was never exactly an academic prodigy. I had zero ground to mount a counterargument.

Whoosh!

A razor-sharp strike sliced through the air.

"What do you think you are doing?" Gerard snapped, stepping back.

"Just felt like taking a swing. You pissed me off."

I never said I wasn't going to hit him. Too bad he dodged it. Tsk, should've swung a fraction faster... Wait, would that have popped his head like a melon?

"Well, whatever," I said, dusting off my hands. "Sounds like our business is concluded, so I'll be taking my leave."

"Yes, safe travels. I trust you will handle the matter at the academy with utmost care."

"Ayy, don't you worry about that. I might not harbor a single drop of patriotic loyalty to the Empire, but my devotion to my benefactor's deep pockets is absolute."

"...Right. I suppose I should be grateful for even that much..."

After wrapping up our farewells, I headed home with a buoyant heart. On the stroll back, memories of the academy web novels I used to binge in my previous life suddenly flashed through my mind.

Now that I think about it... in typical academy stories, dark mages always run amok, demons crawl out of the woodwork, bystanders drop like flies, and through it all, the main characters spend their time flirting and sucking face while ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shoving suffocating loads of frustration down the readers' throats...

A momentary shiver of foreboding rippled down my spine, but I quickly shook it off.

"Nah, come on. It's not like my life is some cheap web novel. What could possibly go wrong?"

Brushing off the uneasy premonition, I strolled merrily toward my house, my thoughts delightfully occupied by the four billion gold waiting in my future and every young adult's ultimate dream: homeownership.

Completely oblivious to the storm brewing on the horizon.

Once Kyle had departed, the tension drained from Gerard's posture, and he sank heavily into his chair.

"Phew... Good grief, I thought my heart was going to burst right out of my chest."

The composed, leisurely demeanor Gerard had maintained until moments ago was completely gone. His entire uniform was drenched in cold sweat, as if he had just sprinted a full marathon for his life.

Kylus.

At age nine, he was thrown into the brutal war against the allied forces of the Blade Kingdom and Haniporif. A year later, at just ten years old, he was already deployed to the absolute front lines, making a terrifying name for himself. At fourteen, he single-handedly rescued the abducted imperial princess. At fifteen, he became the youngest recruit in history to enter Apocalypse. And at nineteen, he marched into the Blade Kingdom completely alone, severed the head of the warmongering former king who had orchestrated the conflict, and strolled back to imperial territory without a single scratch on his body.

It was Kyle's decapitation of that king that brought the bloody war to a definitive end that very year.

"No matter how many times I review it, his record reads like something out of a ridiculous fantasy novel."

When an absolute monster like that whines that he is sick of working and demands retirement, what sane ruler on earth would simply nod and say, "Ah, of course, please enjoy your well-deserved rest"?

Even if they granted his release, they would spend every waking moment trembling in terror that a rival nation might recruit him. And if they dared attempt to eliminate him to snuff out future threats, the surname of the imperial dynasty would change by sunrise.

"The fact that such a scenario is not mere paranoia, but a chillingly plausible reality, is enough to drive a man insane."

The sole saving grace was that Kyle possessed a healthy obsession with gold, and the Dragonia Empire possessed mountains of it.

Thanks to his greed, they could keep him from slaughtering everything in sight and resolve matters through peaceful negotiations. But even that came with a grim caveat: the astronomical sums required to appease him were bleeding the imperial coffers dry month after month. Wailing and gnashing of teeth echoed from the Ministry of Finance every time the annual budget was drafted, and rumors claimed the Minister of Finance had taken to roving the halls with a dagger drawn, frantically scouring every corner of the administration for embezzlement or illicit assets just to balance the books.

Consequently, unlike a certain someone whose pockets grew fatter by the day, the finance officials—whose hairlines were receding at alarming rates—routinely stormed the council chambers clutching mana bombs, threatening mass suicide if they were not allowed to resign.

Of course, because they were ordinary bureaucrats rather than Kyle, they were subdued each time and sentenced for attempting acts of terror within the Imperial Palace. Curiously, their punishment was never execution, imprisonment, or revocation of peerage, but rather mandatory hard labor back at the Ministry of Finance.

Before Kyle entered the military, the Ministry of Finance had wielded absolute authority as the sovereign guardian of imperial assets. Now, it had degenerated into a penal coal mine where broken souls were chained to ledgers until they dropped. It was a tragedy profound enough to bring tears to anyone's eyes.

Though naturally...

"It is not my department, so it is none of my concern."

Gerard's brief moment of schadenfreude, however, did not last long.

"Then again, I am hardly in a position to pity others..."

Remembering his own precarious plight, Gerard slumped his shoulders. As he dragged his feet toward the throne room to deliver the negotiation results to the Emperor, his back looked as pitiful and drenched as a stray cat caught in a torrential downpour.

Inside a sunlit imperial greenhouse, warm rays poured through pristine glass panes to illuminate a dreamlike sanctuary. Centered around exquisite crimson roses, blossoms of brilliant blue, violet, and soft pink swayed gently in the breeze, while vibrant butterflies drifted lazily between the petals. In the heart of this fairy-tale garden, enjoying an afternoon tea, sat a woman whose breathtaking beauty belonged to the realm of myth rather than the mortal world.

Her name was Iris Ramila Dragonia.

She was the treasured pearl of the imperial house, carrying the sacred lineage of the founding hero who had saved ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the continent from the Demon King, alongside his legendary companion and one of the world's most exalted beings: the Silver Dragon Lucidra.

Her radiant silver hair cascaded like the starlight of the Milky Way, mirroring the scales of her draconic ancestor, while her golden eyes glowed with the brilliance of the sun. A proud, noble nose, alluring lips like freshly plucked cherries, and flawless features harmonized across her delicate face to forge a visage that truly deserved the epithet of a nation-toppling beauty.

Yet, completely betraying her divine appearance, this celestial woman was currently shoveling pastries off the table with both hands, stuffing her mouth to bursting like a beast starved for an entire year. Furthermore, her hands and feet were trembling at a violent frequency that would outpace an electric motor—looking for all the world like a desperate day-trader watching their entire life savings and maxed-out loans evaporate in real time as the stock plummeted fifty percent.

How much time had crawled by in this state of frantic agitation?

Just as her squirming reached the level of a dog desperate for a bathroom break, her personal maid, Elise, approached the pavilion.

The instant Iris caught sight of her, the princess's eyes flipped completely crazed, and she lunged forward like a famished predator spotting prey.

"Elise! What happened to Kyle?! He's coming to the academy with me, right? He didn't actually retire, did he? Tell me he didn't! Huh?! Huh?! Elise, answer me right now! I feel like I'm going to pass out from dizziness!"

Had any normal servant seen the Third Princess pouncing like a ravenous beast, they would have fled in sheer terror.

Elise, however, merely maintained a pristine poker face born of long experience and offered a polite curtsy.

"I have brought the news Your Imperial Highness has so eagerly anticipated. Please, compose yourself."

Like a seasoned beast-tamer soothing an enraged tiger, Elise gently guided the frantic Iris back into the garden chair and prepared fresh refreshments with practiced grace.

"This is chamomile tea. It will assist in calming your nerves."

As if her manic fit had never happened, Iris elegantly lifted the porcelain cup, savoring the fragrant brew before nibbling a pastry.

"Mmm~ Truly, no one brews tea quite like you, Elise! Wait, no! Cut the crap, what happened?!"

Evidently, the soothing effect was remarkably short-lived.

Having anticipated this exact reaction, Elise let out a tiny sigh before delivering the answer.

"Sir Kyle has accepted the terms and returned to his residence."

Hearing that Kyle had agreed, Iris fought with every fiber of her being to suppress the urge to leap onto the table and perform a joyous backflip.

"So... what you're saying is that Kyle is attending the academy with me? Right?"

"Yes, Your Highness. In all likelihood, you will be able to commute together starting from the entrance ceremony."

"Yes... He really is, isn't he...?"

With Elise's confirmation, Iris's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shoulders began to tremble with swelling excitement, until finally—

"AHAHAHAHA! Finally! I get to stick to Kyle every single day!"

She burst into an unhinged, ringing laughter.

"Yes! This is it! Now Kyle can never escape me! We'll walk to school together every single morning! We'll study together! Oh, Kyle never received a proper education, so there must be so many things he doesn't know! I can use that as an excuse to drag him to the library, sit shoulder to shoulder, and teach him everything myself!"

Her golden eyes burned with an unsettling, feverish glow.

"And every weekend, we'll go out shopping, eat delicious treats, take long romantic strolls... Then I'll casually slip my hand into his, lean in for a sweet kiss, grow closer and closer day by day... and when night falls, inside our shared dormitory room... ehehehe, hehehehehe!"

Watching Iris laugh like a woman thoroughly possessed by an evil spirit as she plotted her future academy life, nothing about her demeanor evoked the innocent romance or gentle youth of a blossoming maiden. Instead, her aura reeked of sinister crimes: abduction, illegal confinement, and psychological extortion.

Suddenly cutting her laughter short, Iris began rummaging frantically through her dress pockets.

Her fingers closed around a small item, and she drew out a delicate paper envelope. Inside lay several strands of dark hair.

Slowly unsealing the envelope, Iris pressed her face directly into the opening, inhaling deeply with an expression of pure, ecstatic intoxication before whispering in a hushed, possessive murmur.

"Ahh... Kyle. You belong to me. I will have you, no matter what. So don't you dare think of running away, understand?"

Listening to that chilling vow from inches away, Elise could only offer a silent, solemn prayer for the poor soul to whom those hairs belonged.

A few days after the contract was signed...

"Hah... Fuck me. I am so dead..."

On the very morning of the entrance ceremony, I woke up late.