Absolute Safe Zone

"Hey, Employee #1."

Ayla's shoulders trembled at my dry summons, her mind still lost in a daze.

"You finished eating? Time to pay up."

Thud. I tossed the cheap plastic mop at her feet. Blood pooled on the floor splashed up with a wet splat.

"Clean it up before the blood dries. I told you stains don't come off titanium easily. If any spots are left, I'll cut the Spam from your rations and give you just plain rice. Your call."

"...Huh?"

Ayla let out a dumb noise, her eyes darting between ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me, the mop, and the gruesome chunks of meat on the floor.

"You... do you have any idea what just happened?!"

"What do you mean? I was eating, some stray pup snuck into my front yard, so I ran the security system. Simple."

I clicked my tongue and continued. "Fuck, what a waste of ammo. You think 20mm tungsten AP rounds are cheap? I unloaded a bunch just to drop that thing."

Ayla's face went pale. With shaking hands, she pointed at the beast's remains scattered on the floor—distinctive rippling black fur scraps.

"Stray... dog? Does that look like a stray dog to you?!"

"Then what is it? It's got fur and was lurking around my house—stray dog. Though it was hard to spot, so maybe not your average mutt."

"Th-that's a Shadow Fang! A creature that emits no mana until it dies, then unleashes the stench of corrupted mana. A top-tier assassination beast that fetches insane prices on the imperial black market...! It blends with shadows, perfectly concealing its mana—the very calamity that beheads even Aura Masters without a whisper!"

Ayla's voice cracked in desperation.

"No doubt... that's a monster worth at least ten billion gold...! K-Kasian... he must've dipped into the imperial treasury just to erase me without a trace...!"

As she shuddered in despair at her ex-fiancé's ruthless killing intent, a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠completely different scream pierced her ears.

"What? Ten billion gold?!"

My mind's system shop exchanger spun like mad. Ten billion gold... that was a jackpot beyond imagination.

I glared at the meat puree splattered across the corridor, eyes bloodshot.

"Hey! If that's really worth ten billion, why the fuck didn't you say so sooner?!"

"H-how was I supposed to know! It came silently! And even if I did, what could we have done?!"

"Captured it alive somehow! You pulverized it to shit, so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the mana core's smashed too! You think the shop would give me even 10 SP for that ground meat?!"

"My ten billion gold! My bunker upgrade funds!!!"

I clutched my chest, staggering like I might collapse. A living treasure chest literally shredded by tungsten AP rounds and scattered to the air.

Ayla watched my meltdown with a blank expression.

"You... you slaughter that calamity... and all you care about is the money?"

"All? In a capitalist society, money is everything. Big fucking deal killing one beast pup?!"

I huffed, glaring at the silver turret dangling from the ceiling.

"You stupid hunk of metal! Shoot to wound or something—why turn it into ground beef without leaving a single pelt?!"

As if responding to my shout, the CIWS gatling barrel whirred faintly with a mechanical hum.

"Eek! D-don't get mad! D-Demon King! Quell your wrath!"

Ayla hugged her Spam fried rice tub and flattened herself to the floor.

That silver machine which mulched a ten-billion-gold Shadow Fang in 0.5 seconds—she firmly believed it was the pinnacle of my horrific destruction magic.

"Demon King my ass. That's just an auto-tracking gatling turret. CIWS—Close-In Weapon System. Ever heard of it?"

I sighed deeply, fiddling with a mixed coffee stick from my pocket.

"You said earlier that mutt perfectly concealed its mana, right?"

"Y-yes! No imperial mage could sense its presence..."

I kicked an empty tungsten AP casing. Clang.

"Hiding mana and erasing presence? That's just a magic trick that works in this neighborhood. This is my front yard, packed with the essence of modern science."

"Mo-modern... science?"

I pointed at the ceiling lens.

"That's a thermal camera and infrared motion sensor. Hide your mana all you want—if you're a living organism emitting body heat, those eyes see right through you."

Ayla stared blankly up at the lens.

"Body heat? You saying that's superior to mana...?"

"Obviously. That's why it ended up as beehive pizza rolling around—ignoring the laws of physics. That metal hunk's programmed to detect protein heat blobs moving in the kill zone and unload 3,000 rounds per minute, no questions asked."

Ayla's lips quivered. The common sense rooted deep in her mind—faith in magic—shattered with a roar.

Ten billion gold. The empire's top assassin. That monster was just a "protein blob that couldn't hide its heat" in front of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this bunker.

"Th-then... even if the imperial knights come, or a grand mage..."

"Anyone who can't shrug off tungsten rounds with their body gets the same. They might tank it briefly until their aura shield shreds. Oh, right—you'd be mixed in with that meat puree too if I hadn't set the friendly-fire lock. Spared you 'cause you looked pathetic scarfing down your meal."

"Eeeek...!"

Ayla realized she'd been licking Spam fried rice atop a grinder's blades and scrambled backward in horror.

The outside world was hell—imperial forces and grand mages out to kill her. One step beyond this, and Kasian's endless malice would carve her up.

But here? A foul-tempered exploitative boss, sure—but a place with absolute power that mulched a ten-billion-gold calamity in 0.5 seconds. Plus, the salty bliss of Spam still lingered on her tongue.

"Where you running, Employee #1? Not cleaning?"

I snapped, nodding at the mop. Ayla's backward creep toward the airlock halted.

She snatched the mop, spun on her heel, and marched back into the bunker. Coughing awkwardly, she smoothed her crumpled dress.

Her legs still shook like aspen leaves, but her face forced haughty composure.

"M-me, running away? Absurd! I, Ayla Erzen, am a noble who repays favors in full."

"Oh-ho, really?"

"Y-yes! Your... overwhelming might and this splendid fortress! Combined with my knowledge of imperial geography and noble inner workings, we'd form a perfect alliance! S-so..."

Ayla glanced at me slyly, clutching her Spam tub tighter.

"In exchange for my knowledge and labor, grant me stay in this absolute safe zone! Oh, and that magnificent meat from earlier... Spam? Provide it every meal! I'll even peel your potatoes!"

Fancy words, but her gleaming red eyes screamed clear: Please don't kick me out. I'll do anything.

I snorted. Short of kneeling, it was total surrender—survival instinct and Spam flavor breaking her.

The haughty villainess's fragile pride cutely crumbling before capitalism and overwhelming firepower.

The system window kindly proved her heart was already a perfect corporate slave.

I grinned, patting her dusty silver hair.

"Good, good. Great attitude, Employee #1. Employee training's a success. Go wipe up the blood outside, scrub with bleach so it doesn't stink."

"Hmph! Leave it to me, boss!"

Ayla gripped the mop like a battle axe, marching back to the airlock with grim resolve.

"Work hard. Clean it spotless, and I'll top your dinner with two fried eggs."

"T-two?! Two runny ones?!"

Ayla's eyes lit up. Scrub scrub. The duke's daughter's fierce mopping echoed cheerfully through the bunker as she erased the monster's blood.

I chuckled, half-closing the blast door and heading back to the control console.

Perfect employer-employee relations established. Everything smooth.

But as I sat in the camping chair and checked the screens, the smirk froze on my face.

Beep-beep-beep!

The top screen's battery gauge blinked ominous red.

"Ah... right. Power."

I groaned, rubbing my forehead. The CIWS's overwhelming firepower guzzled massive electricity.

My bunker had no "super-large main power source." The basic hydro generator was a pittance.

Firing that beastly military weapon in real combat? No wonder the capacitors were tapped out.

No power, and that CIWS is just a heavy scrap heap.

Power failure cuts the lifeline keeping this absolute safe zone running.

Buy an upper-tier generator, or shove this world's top-grade mana stone in as a battery.

Problem: cash. Remaining SP: 2,300. If I'd salvaged that ten-billion thing, I'd have the generator—but water under the bridge.

Top-grade mana stones? Locked in the imperial palace underground vault under knight guard, or noble family hearts.

"Gotta find a way. Legal, roundabout, and brutally profitable."

I glanced at Employee #1 outside, mopping furiously while muttering "two runny fries!" nonstop.

Yeah. She'd just boasted knowledge of imperial geography and noble ways.

A prime intel source walked right in.

"Hey, Ayla."

"W-wait a sec! Almost done!"

"Finish cleaning, then brief me before peeling potatoes. If this bunker's power cuts, your runny fries are gone forever."

Her mopping stopped dead at my grim warning.

Runny fries vanishing—like a bolt from the blue.

A ruthless boss and corporate-slave lady's tearful capital-gathering scheme quietly sprouted before the blinking red screen. To secure power.