Protecting Intellectual Property Rights
"D-Done cleaning! Not a speck of dust left—perfect enough to scrub the floor with the hem of my dress!"
Not long after, Ayla burst into the control room, leaning on the mop like a cane. Her face was smeared with soot and bloodstains, her beautiful silver hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. She looked exactly like a coal miner's daughter, gasping for breath.
"Good work. Check the monitor first."
I nodded lazily toward the blinking red screen.
"What's that? The flashing red light looks like a bad omen for sure."
"Spot on. Think of it as the bunker's heartbeat. Battery at 12%. Those silver hunks that just saved your ass guzzled electricity like crazy, and now my account's wiped out."
"Electricity...? Oh, like magitech that harnesses lightning? What happens when it runs out?"
"What happens? Those invincible turrets turn into scrap metal and shut down. The bunker lights go out, plunging everything into pitch-black darkness."
I laid out the harshest reality in a dry voice.
"And the real problem is separate. When the bunker's power dies, the kitchen induction stops too."
"I-Induction stops...?"
"No heat source means no cooking. You'll spend the rest of your life gnawing on cold raw potatoes in this damp, dark underground to survive."
"......!"
Ayla's face went corpse-pale. The beastly hunger from crawling through the sewers days ago. The warm, blissful fullness still lingering on her tongue. The gap between heaven and hell slammed her survival instincts.
"Raw... raw potatoes forever?! No way! I won't tolerate that nightmare!"
Bam! Ayla slammed the table, howling. Perfect livestock motivation posture.
Mission accomplished.
"Me neither. So we stop it. Running this bunker takes massive energy. In this world's terms, top-grade mana stones level."
I pulled my chair close and stared her down.
"Name a place in the Empire with that much mana stone rolling around. Legal, or at least one we can clean out without a trace. You're an expert on noble society."
Ayla bit her bloodless lip, digging through memories.
"Top-grade mana stones... The palace treasury has triple 7th-circle barriers—you'd fight the entire Imperial Knight Order before your weapons punch through. The ducal vaults are buried deep in the territory, impossible. Hmm..."
She clawed at her silver hair, then her eyes lit up.
"Ah! Tomorrow night! The national founding anniversary ball!"
"Imperial ball? They handing out mana stones as party favors?"
"No... That trash Kasian prepared a 'super-sized mana firework' to propose to Seria! It'll use top-grade mana stones."
Mana fireworks. The word alone reeked of sweet capitalist opportunity.
"Crazy bastard. Burning top-grade mana stones on fireworks?"
"Not just fireworks! 'Starlight Illusion'! An ancient illusion spell that paints the palace garden sky with a galaxy and meteor shower...!"
Ayla's face ignited mid-explanation. Her romantic lips quivered, then she screamed.
"Aaaagh! That dog! I'd grind him into paste and drink it!"
"Whoa, easy on the sudden turbo."
"That... That was my original plan!"
Ayla jabbed at the air, venting rage.
"For our three-year engagement anniversary! I stayed up all night researching ancient tomes, designed the entire mana circuits, calculated fountain positions perfectly! Then he throws the papers in my face, saying 'Can't waste imperial budget on private fun,' steals it wholesale, and uses it to confess to that slut?!"
Poisonous tears plopped down.
"That's blatant plagiarism! The most shameless scum!"
I grinned at her roar.
"Ayla. Know what happens in capitalist society when someone steals your intellectual property?"
"W-What?"
"You extract rightful 'royalties.' Kasian stole your idea, so we crash as sponsors and suck that firework energy dry."
Ayla's eyes widened at the miraculous logic.
"C-Collect! Yes! That massive energy belongs to me, Ayla Erzen, the planner! I'll flatten that arrogant crown prince's nose... Wait."
Her momentum halted as she glanced back. The main blast door, sealed perfectly with tons of marble and triple barriers from imperial mages.
"The entrance is sealed by the Emperor's decree. How do we get out?"
"Who said through the front door? I just scouted it all."
I smiled and stood, opening the control room cabinet. I unrolled the thick parchment blueprint from the system when I bought the bunker, spreading it across the table.
[Imperial Capital Underground Sewage and Ancient Bunker Purchase Document]
"Overlay the palace map in your head with this 500-year-old bunker blueprint."
Ayla narrowed her eyes, tracing the faint dotted line from Zone 17. It shot vertically to a point on the surface.
"This is... a ventilation emergency passage? No way, this spot's right under the giant Pegasus statue in the palace garden!"
"Bingo. You're useful. Means we climb my house's backyard vent and crash the event center stage. Briefing time."
I pulled up the translucent Last Survivor System shop window.
"Ayla. If we crash, steal the mana stone, smash Kasian's head, or grab it and run in front of Seria—what happens?"
"What happens? Revenge success! Just imagining Kasian's humiliated face is thrilling!"
"And we die."
She flinched at my firm words.
"W-Why die?"
I had to explain the World's Compulsion Force indirectly. Couldn't spill the system's warnings raw, so I rephrased.
"Hard to get specific, but I'm under constraints blocking interference with the crown prince or Seria's romance plot. Like a curse. Do that, and absolute force triggers terrifying penalties. My abilities freeze, resources dry up."
"A... force overpowering even the Demon King's power? Wait, why are you cursed like that?"
"Too long a story—skip it. Point is, use your brain. Let Kasian's event look romantic and successful on the surface. Fireworks boom, galaxy pours, they vibe and kiss—let it happen."
"What?! Watch those trash salt-rubbers with my own eyes?!"
"Hear me out. Just make the shell flashy. At illusion peak, hit the core and suck the pure mana energy here. Looks like dazzling meteors outside, but it's an empty husk inside. Perfectly legal heist."
Ayla's lips curled vilely as she grasped my evil plan.
"A scam that slits throats in broad daylight! I love it, boss!"
I dumped my remaining 2,300 SP.
Mana core—stealthy, precise physical strike. Silencer mandatory.
Item materialized.
Click. A long, heavy matte-black sniper rifle dropped from thin air. Capitalist magic wand with a beefy silencer.
"W-What's that black club? Demon King's staff?"
"Capitalism's magic wand. This'll crack the core clean."
I slung the sniper over my shoulder and reopened the shop.
Next, [Industrial Special Copper Wire / 500 SP] to channel energy, and [Tactical Binoculars / 200 SP] hung around Ayla's neck.
"You're spotter. You planned it—you know the mana stone setup best. Find the core and brief me. Moving out."
---
Deepest in the bunker, B-4 zone. I flung open the cobweb-choked rusted iron door. Lantern light revealed a dizzyingly tall vertical shaft and rusty iron ladder embedded in the wall.
At least 50 meters up. Ayla gaped at the pitch-black void and staggered back.
"Y-You're insane?! I'm a delicate ducal lady! With this frilly skirt—how?!"
"Tonight's dinner: stir-fried diced radish rice with mozzarella cheese and two sunny-side-up eggs."
"......!"
"Power cut? Canceled."
Ayla's noble ego formatted instantly. No clue what diced radish was, but her gut screamed delicious. She ripped her dress hem, tied it tight around her waist, and clung to the rusty ladder.
"Outta my way! I'll conquer it in one go!"
Screech, screech. The endless shaft echoed with tortured metal screams. Watching the pampered lady sweat-soaked and climbing, I praised MSG's greatness anew.
Subjective hour later.
"B-Boss... Blocked up top! Hatch!"
Ayla panted. I bounded up the ladder, pressing tight behind her. Faint moonlight leaked through the gap.
I hushed her and shouldered the heavy iron hatch open slowly.
Creak-. Moldy underground stench faded; rose and champagne scents flooded in.
We poked heads from the hollow bronze Pegasus statue's belly. The flared feather joints made perfect overlooks.
Outside, orchestra waltzes flowed; hundreds of chandeliers lit the garden like day. Nobles in flashy ballgowns. Central terrace.
"There."
Ayla whispered, binoculars glued to eyes. Kasian and Seria side by side. Kasian held a jeweled box with a blinding red-glowing mana core.
"That bastard... Set it up exactly like my plan, not a letter changed."
Chilling killing intent dripped from Ayla's voice. I smirked vilely, sliding the sniper barrel through the statue gap and locking the bipod. Cold stock pressed my shoulder.
Crosshairs locked Kasian's smug grin and mana core perfectly. I bound one end of the thick copper wire tight to the barrel.
"Wait, plagiarist."
The breech's crisp clack rang.
"Taste intellectual property's spicy revenge."
Under moonlight, at romance's dazzling peak, the most vicious energy heist began. My trigger finger tightened slowly.