The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

"What do you think she’s up to?"

In a magnificent study, Baron Bein—a man whose chest sagged to his belly, whose belly sagged to his legs, and whose legs completely filled his chair—set down his handkerchief.

"She wishes to purchase your shop on Chrysanthemum Street, my lord," the butler replied respectfully.

"No, I’m asking what she wants the shop *for*."

"To open a toy store."

Baron Bein drew a sharp breath, stroking his beard. "Does she have a feud with the Ackley family?"

"I haven’t heard any such rumors."

"How much is she offering?"

"She didn’t say, but she had the shopkeeper bring this." The butler handed over a grimy cloth bundle as he spoke.

Sir Bain eyed the bundle with some disgust, waving for the butler to open it directly.

He covered his nose with a perfumed silk scarf, leaning forward to look while muttering to himself, "Why would anyone open a shop across from the best toy store in the city?"

...

"To leech off their customer base, of course."

In the restaurant, Zog and Elsa were chatting privately through the Magic of their Contract.

Elsa was curious. Why open a shop directly across from a competitor? It seemed like a taunt.

"Customer base?"

"Yes. This is the area where toy buyers gather most often, so we’re guaranteed a slice of the pie. We won’t need to advertise our address all over the city, and besides, our toys are unique enough."

Real business competition is often unglamorous. This phenomenon of similar stores opening right next to each other—a "mid-lane showdown," so to speak—is not uncommon on Earth.

You can often find a McDonald’s near a KFC; discovering one bubble tea shop means you’ve discovered a whole cluster of them.

The prerequisite, however, is that the product difference must be small. Otherwise, whoever gets no business is in for an awkward time.

Elsa only half-understood. There were many things Zog did that she didn’t quite grasp, like having her give the shopkeeper a rusty, broken sword as payment for the storefront.

’How foolish would Sir Bain have to be to agree to that?’

It was too much to think about. Eating dessert suited her better.

The desserts at this restaurant were excellent, especially the soufflé, which was as light as air.

Unfortunately, every bite came with the guilt of potential weight gain. The angrier she got, the more she ate; the more she ate, the angrier she got.

Zog watched in surprise as she violently stabbed her spoon into the cup, scooped up a large piece of cake, and stuffed it viciously into her mouth.

’What’s with this kid? How can eating dessert make her so worked up?’

Nearby, the Half-Elf was still diligently recounting the history of Twin Tower City.

"The eastern of the Twin Towers belongs to the Legendary Mage Soron Ambrosius. To protect the common folk, he withstood the full-force attack of the Red Dragon Zog from within his Mage Tower..."

The Dragon in question scratched his nose, a little embarrassed. ’At least now I know the young Mage’s name.’

Just then, the restaurant door flew open, and a lavishly dressed fat man waddled in, hips swaying.

As he ran, his voice cracked as he shouted, "Where is the esteemed Lady Stone!"

It was none other than Sir Bain.

The restaurant manager came forward to greet him, but the Baron paid him no mind, rushing straight toward Elsa.

"Beautiful lady, you must be Elsa Stone! I have long heard of you but never had the opportunity to pay my respects."

He even performed a very complex bow.

With the spoon still in her mouth, Elsa watched the fat baron’s difficult bow, unsure how she was supposed to react.

Sir Bain continued on his own, "Thank you so much for recovering my family’s ancestral sword! As a token of my gratitude, I have brought the deed to the property."

While he was asking his butler for the deed, Elsa quickly put down her spoon and adopted a more dignified posture.

She was astonished. She privately asked Zog if he had planned to open this shop long in advance, even going so far as to steal the baron’s heirloom beforehand.

"Not really," Zog said nonchalantly. "I have ninety percent of the noble families’ heirlooms in this city. I only picked this shop because it happened to be right across the street."

Bein fit the two pieces of the broken sword together. Tears instantly welled in his eyes as he kissed the family crest on the hilt, his hands trembling as he held the sword.

"Did you know? This sword represents my family’s honor! My great-great-grandfather used it to fight valiantly during the invasion of the Evil Dragon Zog, and he even sliced off a Dragon Scale! The sword was lost in that very battle..."

Hearing this, Elsa started another private chat with Zog.

"Is that true?"

"A slight deviation. I was packing things into a Treasure Chest Monster when I spotted someone sneaking by. The man threw the sword at me and ran. It hit my foot and broke. It looked expensive, so I kept it."

"What about slicing off a Dragon Scale?"

"After the sword hit me, my foot felt a little itchy, so I scratched it. Probably scraped off a good bit of foot skin..."

Sir Bain grew more and more excited as he spoke. Bragging about one’s ancestors’ glorious past—a mix of truth and lies—was an important part of noble society, so most of them had a few well-rehearsed speeches.

"After driving away the Evil Dragon, my great-great-grandfather kept that Dragon Scale, and it became our family’s other treasure. The Patriarch of each generation wears it. My ancestor be praised! The two treasures are finally reunited."

He unclasped a necklace. Hanging from it was indeed a Dragon Scale, its dark red color identical to Zog’s. He held it in his hand, rubbing it repeatedly before kissing it with a solemn expression.

Elsa seemed to realize something. Hoping she was wrong, she asked Zog, "So... what he’s kissing right now is?"

"Aged foot skin, most likely."

For the first time, she truly despised the custom of ceremonial kissing.

The more solemnly Sir Bain kissed it, the more physically ill she felt. Her stomach churned, and it took a long while for the feeling to subside.

"Is it... wrong to use their own stuff to buy their building?"

"It’s fine. He even has to thank us for it."

"Thank you again."

Bein bowed once more before leaving the restaurant with his family’s ancestral sword.

The butler stayed behind to supervise the move-out. They were incredibly efficient, finishing most of the work before evening.

Some furniture was left behind, so Zog’s group decided to stay the night. They would only use the first and second floors for the shop, as there weren’t many types of products anyway—for now, only the Yo-Yo.

Meanwhile, the Half-Elf, Toto, finished her work as a tour guide and headed home under the evening glow.

Of course, being a tour guide wasn’t her only job.

A half-breed, unwelcome among Elves and looked down upon by Humans, needed a few extra skills to get by.

She was also an excellent thief, and her finger-work was highly praised within the trade.

The port was her territory. Out-of-town travelers were the most suitable targets.

’What was that woman’s name from today? Elsa, I think.’

’Definitely the child of some noble family, maybe even a recent graduate. She had "easy mark" written all over her face. It would be a crime not to fleece someone with that look of pure idiocy in her eyes.’

The stolen bundle wasn’t heavy, but the fabric was high-quality. The contents must be valuable.

She had resisted the urge to look inside. Unwrapping several days’ worth of loot all at once was her favorite thing to do.

The sky grew dark, and she arrived home.

The slums, a place where dragons and fish mingled—in the literal sense. It was a chaotic mix of different races, from Fishmen to Sub-dragon People.

Before entering, she checked the strip of cloth tucked in the doorjamb.

It hadn’t fallen. ’Safe.’

She pushed the door open and lit an oil lamp.

"Let’s see what treasure we have here..."

"Nothing valuable."

"How could that be—" Her voice cut short as she sensed danger. She reached for the cabinet beside her. "Who’s there?!"

"Looking for this?" A tall Elf with pale gray skin and silver-white hair stepped out of the shadows, holding a Hand Crossbow with a mocking tone.

’A Zor!’

The most dangerous of the Elven races.

Toto didn’t have time to wonder how she had provoked these people. She lunged backward to open the door and escape but collapsed helplessly to the ground.

’When was I poisoned?’

The Zor calmly walked over, picked up the bundle, and took out a red ball.

"This Yo-Yo is called the Firepower Warrior."

’What the hell?’

Toto couldn’t understand a thing. ’Has this Zor got the wrong person for her revenge? Let me explain!’

The Zor then produced a piece of paper, which had illustrations of a hand performing various tricks with a Yo-Yo.

’This looks like a toy?’

Toto suddenly realized. ’The Zor works for Elsa?’

"I hear you’re a decent thief, very deft with your hands. You have one night. Use this ball to perform the tricks on this paper, and you’ll live to see tomorrow’s sun."

Toto struggled on the floor, trying to say something, but her words were muffled.

The power gap between them was huge, so the Zor wasn’t worried about Toto escaping. She administered the antidote.

Toto took several deep breaths to steady herself before saying with difficulty, "Tomorrow’s going to be overcast."

"..."