The Scammed Tyrant
"Uncle! Two more mana-opening sausage breads at that table over there!"
"Call me boss while you're working."
"B-boss! We're short on change! And that customer over there is complaining that the bread tastes like weird weeds instead of parsley?!"
"Tell them it's Monk Wonhyo's skull water. They're eating it for the placebo effect anyway—who gives a damn about the taste."
The store interior was a warzone. I leaned back in the rickety old rocking chair tucked in the corner of the counter, leisurely sipping steaming hot tea.
"Do the math in your head like a top student. Hustle."
"Waaah! I'm seriously gonna drop dead from overwork! What's the point of opening my mana circuits if my stamina's still in the red?!"
Academy theory topper Edelin was sweating bullets as she dashed frantically around the shop.
My peaceful retirement life had rolled in a "10 million won weekly slave." True to her top-student title, she inventoried stock at terrifying speed, calculated change through mental math like reciting multiplication tables, and fended off cranky customers. She whined nonstop from her mouth, but scraped together every last coin to pay off her debt faster—pretty damn usable, all told.
Not bad after all.
I rocked the chair with a satisfied smile.
Back in my Old Continent emperor days, I'd worked my administrators the same way. Threaten to chop off a finger for a typo in the paperwork, and they'd pull all-nighters for three straight days to run the empire flawlessly. The true flower of capitalism and power: counting money others earn for you while sitting on your ass.
I was drunk on unearned income, eyes closed in bliss—right then.
"Outta the way! Student council's here!"
"H-hey! Clear a path! It's the student council president!"
The outside suddenly grew rowdy. Students crowding the store front parted like the Red Sea miracle. Even the murmurs died to dead silence.
Discipline committee members in crisp uniforms lined up menacingly. Sharp click-clack of high heels strode inside amid them.
Wine-red hair like dark crimson. Eyes sharp and cold, piercing straight through a person's worth in currency units. Heiress to Eilen Kingdom's top trading house, absolute ruler monopolizing the Academy's commerce: Student Council President Beliche.
"……."
Her icy gaze swept the shabby store interior, bread crumbs on the floor, and me brazenly lounging in the rocking chair—one by one. The temperature seemed to plunge with every spot her eyes touched.
Soon, she slammed a thick ledger down on the counter with a bang!
"Are you the person in charge here?"
"Nah, I'm the boss."
Beliche's brow twitched faintly at my shameless reply. With a voice utterly frigid and unflinching, she declared:
"Unauthorized occupation of Academy grounds. And unregistered commercial activity."
"……."
"Per Article 12 of the Land Management Act, I order the immediate demolition of this store. All profits illegally earned to date will be seized as fines for unauthorized occupation."
The student council president's merciless legal boot. Her motives were obvious. On the surface, duty and principles as president—but really? Her trading house's massive cash flow from the Academy cafeteria and stores was getting sucked into a black hole by some unheard-of outskirts shack. Must've burned her merchant heiress pride.
But the first to react to that terrifying declaration wasn't me.
"B-boss!"
Edelin, wiping the counter, went pale and grabbed my clothes, shaking wildly.
"W-we're done for?! Getting demolished?! What about my job?! Where do I pay back my 10 million won debt?!"
Edelin's eyes shook like an earthquake. Then, as if realizing something, she widened them and gasped.
"…Wait. If it's an illegal stall, you're an illegal squatter criminal too, right? So I don't have to pay you back?"
"……."
"Maybe I can threaten to report you to labor board instead and squeeze a hush-money settlement out of you…"
Thwack!
"Ow!"
In the heavy tension, I knuckle-cracked Edelin's forehead as she spun idle hopeful fantasies solo. Ignoring the employee clutching her brow and crouching on the floor, I slowly rose from the creaking chair.
A mere trading house brat lecturing an emperor who'd ruled the continent on law and economy? I snorted and stepped to the counter.
"Illegal profits? Unauthorized occupation? Don't make me laugh."
"What? You going to brazenly deny it?"
"Not denying—exercising my rights. I'm running a 'temporary relief center' right now, handing out free food to debt-buried orphans and starving poor folk out of charity."
Edelin muttered from the floor, "I'm not an orphan, though…"—ignored.
I brazenly recited a charter I'd personally decreed back on the Old Continent to aid disaster and war refugees.
"Article 4 of the Wartime and Disaster Relief Special Act: 'Relief facilities cannot be forcibly demolished unless they directly harm the landowner's primary operations.'"
"……!"
"Plus, anyone aiding the poor gets full tax and rent exemptions. This is the Academy's unused outer-trash dump. How the hell am I directly harming your school biz—or the Academy?"
Beliche's eyes widened at my brazen bullshit. Back then, Old Continent churned out hundreds of thousands of refugees daily from monster and invasions by other races. Good folks emptied their pockets to build relief centers and feed them—but selfish lords tried evicting them for "trespassing" and extorting rent. Fed up, I'd shoved blood-dripping swords to those lords' throats and forced through the "absolute defense" relief law.
"So your demolition tag's invalid. Instead of fining me, you should cough up maintenance subsidies from student council funds. With back interest, about 5 million won, roughly."
Beliche's red lips quivered in disbelief. Her cold merchant calculator couldn't swallow such brazen nonsense.
"What insane relief law is that?! This is peaceful Eilen Kingdom! No such reckless special act exists!"
"Oh yeah?"
"If some half-assed law like that existed, every tom, dick, and harry would toss bread crumbs to beggars, squat prime land, dodge taxes, and abuse it! How the hell would the state police that?!"
Beliche's sharp fact-barrage. But I replied with utter nonchalance, the utterly obvious "common sense" from my Old Continent emperor days.
"Police what?"
"…Pardon?"
"If some asshole abuses it, just chop his head off and hang it in the square. Splash some blood around, and shit runs itself."
"…!"
The store air froze solid.
This wasn't banter or intimidation. It was the tyrant who'd ruled the continent in terror by decapitating countless rebels and nobles—the raw truth.
The thick blood-scent leaking casually from my mouth, the chill killing intent treating lives like flyspecks. Beliche, so cocky moments ago, went sheet-white.
"You… are you insane?!"
She stumbled back on pure instinctual terror. I clicked my tongue inwardly. These locals run admin too soft and humanitarian. Breaking laws happens—who cares if they're staking their lives on it?
Anyway, Old Continent governance logic and brutal common sense didn't fly with this modern merchant brat. If talk failed, time to crush with perfectly logical, legal paperwork.
Shrugging helplessly, I opened the counter drawer and flung a thick contract—stamped hard—at Beliche's chest.
"Laws differ? Fine. But I shelled out massive key money in cold hard cash to the previous owner and legally took over this spot. It's got the seal right there—now scram, kid."
The great tyrant's leisurely victory smile. Beliche snatched the flung paper with trembling hands.
But.
"…Ha."
A deflated, incredulous scoff burst from Beliche as she scanned it.
"This is your 'legal deed transfer'?"
"Yeah. Read it real close."
"This is fake as counterfeit bills—no Academy seal, and the stamp's just a crappy circle! Plus, your 'previous owner' was a squatter waiting to get booted anyway."
"…What?"
Beliche looked up at me with pitying disdain.
"No way… You got completely scammed out of that huge key money in cash for this amateurish scrap paper?"
"……."
Time in the store stopped.
Edelin shot her head up from the floor.
"Boss is a total sucker?!"
Scam. The cruel, mighty tyrant Hakan—duped by some nameless local thug peddler with amateur real estate fraud.
My face burned.
Thinking back, over 99 loops, scrutinizing paperwork authenticity was for old admins with magnifying glasses. I'd just slam the imperial seal on fancy approvals, then hack the presenter's head off if embezzlement or scams popped later.
No way I'd spot pleb shoe-leather real estate cons.
That's why I beheaded those admin bastards so often!
Goddamn it!
"Kuh…!"
Shame and rage peaked. Uncontrollable black killing intent poured from me like heat haze, cracking the store air. A glass on the shelf cracked.
"Eek…!"
Beliche flinched, sensing mortal threat from my ferocious aura and humiliation. But true to top merchant heiress form, she bit her lip, regaining composure fast.
She pulled a red tag from her pocket and slapped it dead-center on the counter.
"Academy official demolition and fine notice. Deadline: exactly 3 days."
Amid the overwhelming killing intent, she flashed a perfect victor's smile and turned.
"Fail to pay fines and self-demolish in 3 days, and knight squads enforce it. Have fun, great 'sucker boss.'"
Click-clack.
Beliche and her discipline squad swept out like a victory gale.
The emptied store held only wretched, heavy silence.
"Waaah! Boss! We're really done for! What about my pay?! I'd rather hunt monsters than work for a scammed boss!"
Edelin punched the floor, sobbing.
I silently stared at the crappy crayon-stamped fake contract and red tag on the counter.
Shame passed. All that remained: the continent-destroying great tyrant's pure, thick rage.
I slung the black coat from the counter chair over my shoulders and growled like a beast.
"Edelin. Shut the shutters. Closing shop today."
"Y-yes…? Where you off to midday? You running away at night…?"
"Nah."
I crushed the fake contract to powder in my fist. My mind flashed crystal-clear to the thug punk who'd smirked while dumping this dump for "bargain" key money not long ago.
"Going for a refund."
I glared coldly through the shutter slit and muttered.
"Might as well collect interest—and yank out that bastard's spine while I'm at it."