Protect the Magic Pants Mass Production Factory (3)
[That very moment, at a luxurious villa somewhere in the southern continent.]
Crash.
In a resort paradise where the blue ocean waves lapped gently, a platinum-haired boy lounged on a poolside bed at a top-tier resort, sunglasses perched on his nose.
"Kyaaang!"
"Ahaha!"
In front of him, a swarm of beauties splashed around in the water, playing. Or rather, it was less "playing" and more a commercial frenzy—each one desperately soaking their skimpy bikinis to steal the boy's gaze. But the boy paid them no attention whatsoever.
"Here's the final report, Chairman Castor."
"Mm."
Instead, he perked up his ears at the words from the burly man standing beside him.
Comprehensive data from students equipped with Magic Pants confirms: no short-term effects can be expected.
"But didn't the Lion King grow in one shot?"
The boy fiddled with the magic panel on his wrist, and soon a photo popped up on the magic screen.
"Kyaaa!"
The women flushed and giggled at the sight of the middle-aged man lying there in the photo.
It was inevitable. Forget his title as the Mercenary King—the real showstopper was that thing standing tall toward the heavens, even in repose. Any woman would swallow hard at the sight.
Does it fit? Who cares. It was the kind of size that sparked that universal thought everyone has once or twice in life: 'Something like that? Yeah, I'd give it a go.' And this was the Mercenary King, famed for his stamina to boot. If he bombarded a woman with that massive, thick beast, she'd be ruined for anyone else—turned into a fool who couldn't even dream of other men.
"If they have talent on the Lion King's level, you could interpret it as shortening the timeframe significantly."
"That Phoenix guy. You said he'd hit rank 17 by academy graduation?"
"Yes."
Castor removed his sunglasses.
"He said it right in front of the seniors, so if you keep stimulating from below right, it means you could grow that big in about a year. Am I wrong?"
"Probably not, Chairman."
"...In that case."
Castor's eyes began to fill with obsession and madness toward something.
"We must obtain it. No matter what."
"......."
"It can't end with just getting the Magic Pants. We need the production techniques, technology, copyrights, and every exclusive business right tied to it. Sell only to those willing to shell out tens of thousands of gold per pair. That's how you make money. Hell yeah. What do you think?"
"Your will is wise, Chairman."
Castor grinned at the words from the giant man in the black suit, then glanced sideways.
"If I get that big through the Magic Pants too... heh heh heh, I could make our little birds chirp right under me?"
"......."
The hulking youth couldn't respond to Castor's words, merely gripping the magic panel on his wrist tightly.
"Hey. Alex."
"Yes, Chairman."
"Go fuck those girls."
"Kyaaang!"
The women in the pool cheered with lewd smiles at Castor's command. Alex, looking troubled, scanned them again.
Five women. One man.
"Uh, by any chance...."
"Obviously in linked mode, right?"
"......."
"It's all in your fat salary. That way... I get the fun too?"
Castor glanced downward meaningfully, and Alex nodded silently, heading toward the pool where the women waited with arms open.
"Heh heh, yeah. Should've done that sooner... ngh."
The kisses rained on Alex, but Chairman Castor trembled as if they were for him, chuckling softly.
"Well... my damn little brother."
Castor growled lowly toward whoever was at the academy right now.
"Time to prove your worth. Heh heh heh...."
His eyes gleamed with an inhuman, appraising strangeness.
"Let's make a deal, President Alheina. Magic Pants for women... no, can't call 'em pants. I'll give you Magic Bras, so yield a bit on the Magic Pants business rights."
"......."
Alheina fell silent, hand over her mouth, brain whirring with calculations.
"Of course, I won't sell the Magic Bras. This is a secret just for you, President Alheina."
"Hmmm...."
"What if President Alheina's chest suddenly grew one day? People might yell 'fake boobs,' but if they swelled naturally, no tricks? Big enough for the academy to say 'you're in now'?"
"You know a scandal like that could blow up huge if it's a lie?"
Alheina eyed me.
"You know girls use fake enhancers just to get in, and you're still pulling this?"
"Not fakes. They grow real. Want a mana oath?"
"That bluff might work on others, but not me. Do it."
"I swear on my mana."
As I actually began the mana oath, Alheina flinched and straightened up.
"You...."
"If President Alheina wears the Magic Bra and uses it right, I'm certain you'll hit C-cup or better within a year."
"...That's your certainty. No guarantee it'll happen."
"If not, you get not just Magic Pants exclusivity... but the theoretical tech copyrights too."
"......."
"After all that, time to believe me?"
"You're... serious?"
"Of course."
Time to dangle the bait.
"Unlike some arrogant little shit who can't do it himself and links sensations to leech off others."
"......!!"
Alheina's face stiffened for a split second, but I shrugged and gestured around.
"Just us here. Was true before, still is."
"......What are you?"
"Apostle of the god who knows everything?"
"What nonsense...."
"Told the truth. It's faith. I want to fill the self-esteem voids of countless men via Magic Pants, make women feel bliss on that foundation. Apostle of love."
"......."
"But mass production needs companies. Can't ask for freebies. So, partner with Silverstar."
"That hand."
Alheina crossed her legs again, glaring venomously.
"Why not Yurha?"
"......."
"Your tone makes it sound like I had to bow out because 'Yurha outbid me.'"
"You get it."
No ordinary player.
"Right. I'm handing business rights to Yurha."
"Picking a buyer before open bids? That's corruption. And...."
"Sure, you'd get wrecked by that little shit. No worries. This'll shut him up."
I slid an item across to Alheina.
"This is...?"
"Kids' Magic Pants. Or just say small size."
"......."
"Yurha Silverstar muscled in, stole the rights—not for profit, but to snatch it for herself. Academy sample. ...That cover it?"
I nudged another item beside the Magic Pants.
"Just wear it solo. Keep off normally, wear to bed. But sleep 6+ hours daily, or effects drag."
"......."
Alheina reached for the Magic Pants-like item beside it, gathering it up.
"...Milky Cow Bikini?"
"Slender beauty now, but in a year? Busty enough for this. Heh."
"...Not bad."
Alheina tucked the milky cow bikini away primly, eyeing me seriously.
"But hey. If I beat Yurha Silverstar in the bid, you cool with that?"
"......."
"You two got something going?"
"Eh, who knows."
Planning to, though.
"Deals park personal feelings, chase max profit, right?"
Deals demand cold logic. That's how you win Silverstar hearts.
"...Fine. Deal."
Alheina stood, grinning.
"If it doesn't grow, you're blacklisted from all my subsidiaries. Forever."
"And if it works?"
"Works? ...W-well, if it does. Uh."
Alheina hesitated, then beckoned with a finger.
"Ears."
I leaned toward her.
"...F-fine, one feel."
She blushed.
"......For free?"
"Duh! You think I'd charge?!"
"I'd pay all day for that."
"......."
Alheina glared daggers and backed away.
"I'm expensive!!"
"I got infinite cash."
"......."
"......."
With that, Alheina bolted out, ending our chat.
After Alheina left.
I stayed seated, sipping tea leisurely.
"So, what do you think?"
[Hmmm.]
[Parties involved right here, and you keep spilling the fun stuff.]
Light shimmered, revealing a golden-haired woman.
"Who said I'd cut a deal like that?"
"You will. If you're Yurha."
Yurha Silverstar.
She appeared in uniform.
"Everyone knows spreading Magic Pants at underwear prices is a money pit."
"You already know."
I offered her a teacup.
"That I'll give 'compensation' worth it."
"...Let's hear it."
Yurha took the cup.
"What reward does the apostle of love, bringing hope to men, offer to sway me?"
"Well."
Obvious, right?
"Starting with preventing the world's apocalypse?"
No business if the world ends.