Villain's Refund System: The Protagonist's Harem Is Mine

Warm amber light reached Damien before pain, followed by the smell of solder and antiseptic inside Mina’s workshop.

He opened one eye beneath a suspended repair lamp, ’ugh, not the infirmary, so she kidnapped my broken body somewhere with better tools.’

Both arms lay wrapped across a narrow cot beside her main bench, while fresh resin covered his ribs beneath an open shirt.

The Unwritten egg rested inside a glass bowl near his head, changing shape whenever amber current passed through its shell.

Mina sat on a rolling stool with black hair completely loose, her goggles resting beside three empty stimulant cups.

Her compact body wore an oversized workshop coat above stained shorts, and exhaustion had darkened the skin beneath both eyes.

’She stayed here all night, damn, say something useful before your stupid mouth chooses flirting near medical equipment.’

"Hey, how many healers did you threaten before bringing me into this workshop?" Damien asked, testing fingers beneath the left bandage.

"Four, though only one deserved the wrench," Mina replied, checking his pulse through a brass sensor, "you were unconscious for nine hours."

"Wow, the academy infirmary will miss my regular attempts at escape," he said, noticing her hand shake around the sensor clasp.

"Nah, they wanted to report your egg as rift property before treating anything expensive," she answered, placing the sensor down too carefully.

’She protected the weird object too, great, now guilt joined every other painful thing around my chest.’

Damien tried sitting, but Mina pressed one palm against his shoulder and kept him flat without visible effort.

"Stay there until I finish deciding whether your plan deserves admiration or blunt-force correction," she said, leaning above him.

"The students survived, so I already know which side receives my vote," Damien replied, meeting anger beneath her tired eyes.

"Those students survived while you entered a ninety-seven percent death event alone," she answered, tapping his sensor until the fatality record appeared.

His system percentage should have remained invisible, yet Mina’s device had reconstructed the risk through damage telemetry and level difference.

’Of course she calculated it, you absolute moron, hiding behind luck becomes difficult around a genius with access to your pulse.’

"I could keep the beast away from them by carrying its core into that channel," he said, refusing the easier lie waiting behind his teeth.

"You could have told me before disappearing with a level four-hundred Correction," Mina replied, lowering her face until loose hair brushed his bandage.

"There was no time to explain everything while forty students stood near its route," he answered, watching hurt replace part of her anger.

"Then explain one thing now," she said, placing both hands near his shoulders, "what happens when your survival plan endangers me beside you?"

The question reached deeper than any accusation, pulling his thoughts toward every event where he had chosen alone.

’Promise to protect her sounds heroic, also useless, since she would stab me with a screwdriver for treating her as baggage.’

"I explain the actual risk before deciding for both of us," Damien said, letting each word arrive without polish, "then you choose your place."

Mina held his gaze while the workshop fans pushed loose hair across one cheek.

"Good, and if you hide the dangerous part to keep me cooperative?" she asked, pressing one finger against his chest sensor.

"Walk away with every invention you own, plus permission to break my repaired nose," he replied, feeling nervousness tighten his stomach.

"Permission was never required for that extremely reasonable second clause, rich boy," Mina said, though her mouth finally softened near one corner.

’Okay, she did not leave, which should feel less frightening than another Graveclaw, yet here we are.’

She sat back on the rolling stool and pulled a folded contract page from beneath his medical tray.

Damien stared at the title until disbelief pushed through his pain.

[Workshop partnership terms]

"You wrote an actual partnership contract while I was unconscious here?" he asked, finding his name beside six handwritten safety clauses.

"Spoken promises become mysteriously flexible around handsome idiots carrying swords," Mina replied, putting a pen inside his working hand.

"That suspicious adjective feels highly manipulative during our current negotiation," Damien said, reading the first clause about shared risk disclosure.

"Please complain after signing beneath the line where I retain every design right," she answered, pointing toward the bottom margin.

No clause asked for his system, family authority or control over her work, only honesty whenever their danger overlapped.

’She built an exit into every term, good, nobody should need my permission to leave, especially someone the story tried chaining elsewhere.’

Damien signed and returned the pen before his hand could start shaking from another delayed injury.

Mina inspected the signature, then placed the contract inside a fireproof drawer beside her captured spark.

"Partnership accepted until either person becomes too annoying for continued repair," she said, locking the drawer with one amber pulse.

"That final condition sounds dangerously subjective around your current workshop mood," he replied, letting relief warm his chest beneath the resin.

"It remains entirely subjective under my contract," Mina answered, rolling the stool closer until both knees touched his cot, "which means behave very carefully."

The distance between them disappeared without another joke, leaving Damien suddenly aware of her thumb near his jaw.

’Her hand feels warm, shit, why did that tiny detail empty every useful thought from my head?’

’She is close, probably checking bruises, except nobody examines a mouth from that angle, you idiot.’

Mina leaned down and kissed him before his thoughts found a less embarrassing explanation.

Her lips felt warm against his split mouth, gentle for one heartbeat before she caught his lower lip and made the choice unmistakable.

Damien forgot every clever answer while his working hand reached toward her waist, then stopped above the workshop coat.

She took his wrist and placed it against her side herself, keeping control of the distance as the kiss deepened.

’For real?, damn, this is happening, so please do not ruin it by thinking about system screens now.’

A pale window opened beside Mina’s loose hair at exactly the worst possible moment.

[Fate Bond detected]

[Mina Park]

[Scripted channel: Lucas Arden]

[Re-anchor conditions available]

Anger cut through Damien’s excitement when the system placed ownership language beside her choice.

He closed the entire panel without reading another line and returned his attention to the woman kissing him.

’Not now, she made this choice herself, so the system can wait outside our moment.’

Mina pulled back several centimeters, breathing harder while one suspicious brow lifted above amber eyes.

"You became angry during the useful part, so explain before I assume terrible reviews," she said, keeping his wrist against her waist.

"Something unrelated tried interrupting," Damien replied, choosing the mundane truth available, "I told it to fuck off."

"Good answer, then keep ignoring whatever tried interrupting us just now," she said, kissing him again with enough pressure to pull fresh pain through his mouth.

The egg struck one side of its glass bowl and made a soft tapping noise beside their heads.

Mina broke away and stared at the shifting shell while laughter escaped through her tired breath.

"Your mysterious rift egg has worse timing than its injured owner," she said, resting her forehead against his.

"Please cover the bowl before our first partnership dispute involves voyeurism," Damien replied, unable to stop smiling beneath swollen lips.

She threw a clean cloth across the egg without moving her other hand from his chest.

’Mina chose that, rewards never entered it, gratitude meant nothing here, only her own terms plus one extremely effective kiss.’

Outside the workshop, somebody slid tomorrow’s challenge notice beneath the door after hearing Damien had collapsed.

Mina picked it up, read the opponent’s name, then handed the page toward his unbroken arm.

"Your next idiot thinks the Graveclaw made you weak," she said, reaching for her wrench-hammer, "please recover before proving him terminally mistaken."

Damien read the ambush warning hidden beneath its polite training header and sat upright despite every bandage.