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

Rainwater ran from Damien’s coat onto the service stairs beneath Sterling Hall, where every gray step smelled faintly of dust and burned copper.

His injured wrist throbbed beneath fresh bandages, ’right, following a murder attempt by climbing into another hidden death trap is definitely smart, good work, you absolute genius.’

The residence map ended at a locked iron door below the gala kitchens, though the novel remembered another corridor running beneath tomorrow’s stage.

Damien pressed his signet against the dull plate and felt three internal locks shift, then cold air pushed through the widening gap.

’So the ring opens this place, Cassius wanted it after I died, which suddenly feels less sentimental than bro probably planned.’

Blue ward lines crossed the narrow tunnel ahead, each strip sunk beneath stone while loose cables hung between brass hooks along one wall.

He stepped over the first glowing mark and checked his phone, but its floor plan showed empty foundation beneath his current position.

"Yeah, very reassuring," Damien muttered, lowering the screen toward a cracked sensor, "even the expensive map pretends this tunnel does not exist."

A metallic crash sounded farther ahead, followed by a woman’s irritated voice and several words the Sterling kitchen staff probably never used around guests.

Damien rounded the bend and found a compact girl halfway inside an open ward cabinet, with both grease-marked arms buried among violet cables.

Dark hair sat in a messy high bun held together by a narrow tempering tool, while warm amber eyes glared through protective goggles pushed above her forehead.

Burn freckles crossed her forearms beneath rolled sleeves, and a cropped work jacket strained around the heavy tool harness circling her waist.

One boot braced against the stone as she pulled a smoking crystal free, ’Mina Park, damn, she looks exactly right, except the novel forgot how angry she gets at broken machinery.’

"Hey, if you yank that blue cable next, the anchor wakes up and cooks this hallway," Damien said, stopping beyond her reach.

The girl froze with two fingers around a blue sheath, then slowly turned her head until both amber eyes settled on his bandaged wrist.

"Thank you, mysterious basement man, I nearly forgot strangers always know my repair order better," she replied, leaving the cable untouched.

She slid out from the cabinet and landed lightly, then reached toward a folded wrench hanging beside three compact charges.

"Damien Sterling," he said, raising both hands away from his saber, "and before that face gets worse, I came to inspect tomorrow’s gala ward."

Mina looked over his black coat before noticing the silver signet, and her suspicion changed into something sharper around the mouth.

"Fantastic, the groom found a basement during his engagement disaster," she said, tapping her wrench against one palm, "please leave before your reputation damages my equipment."

Damien glanced toward the open cabinet and saw one rune beneath its normal circuit, a hooked black line hidden under fresh binding resin.

’There, that ugly little thing was not mentioned until Chapter two hundred, so whoever planted it expected nobody important to look down here.’

"That anchor vents into the gala stage when somebody releases uncontrolled mana above it," he said, pointing without crossing the nearest blue line.

Her wrench stopped tapping, though she kept her body between Damien and the exposed mechanism.

Damien watched her lower those goggles instead of dismissing him, ’she believes enough to check, good, now avoid sounding insane for another minute.’

"Wards do not care about dramatic speeches, so explain how you reached that conclusion without touching anything," Mina replied, crouching beside the cabinet.

He remembered glass breaking beneath Vivienne’s announcement, then the original Damien screaming while his Aspect collapsed in front of every camera.

’The novel called it backlash, fuck, they really buried an execution device under the stage and let readers cheer when it worked.’

"Tomorrow I lose control above this room, the anchor draws that surge downward, then something foreign pushes everything back through my core," Damien said, watching her expression.

Mina stared for one long second before pulling her goggles down, then a thin amber lens lit across each eye.

"Either insanity fits or somebody taught you enough wardcraft to become annoying," she said, opening a smaller side panel, "stay behind the silver seam."

Damien looked at the floor and found three different silver seams crossing under his boots, ’very useful instruction, sheesh, artificers really enjoy pretending normal people can see their nonsense.’

"Which silver seam keeps my organs inside me after everything starts exploding?" he asked, shifting toward the cabinet as a violet indicator blinked once.

"The clean one, obviously, so keep both boots still until I finish checking," Mina replied, then frowned when another light answered beneath the foreign rune.

The anchor gave a low hum that Damien recognized from tomorrow’s scripted collapse, though the sound arrived nearly twenty hours early.

’No, this wakes during the speech, unless Divergence moved it, which means standing still is probably the dumbest available option.’

He crossed the nearest line and grabbed Mina’s harness as white fire burst from the cabinet, hauling her behind a stone support before the blast reached them.

Heat tore across his coat while metal fragments struck the opposite wall, then one smoking shard buried itself inside the stair door.

Mina hit the floor beneath him and shoved hard against his chest, "Get off before the second surge reaches your very expensive spine."

Damien rolled aside while blue light raced through every floor seam, turning the hidden tunnel bright enough to hurt his eyes.

"You saw that surge before my lenses registered it," she said, crawling toward the shattered cabinet, "so save your terrible lie until after we survive." Her fingers moved through the exposed mechanism while sparks snapped against both gloves, and Damien noticed the black rune spreading beyond its original hook.

’It is growing, great, apparently murder graffiti can crawl now, this world keeps improving every five minutes.’

"Tell me what needs breaking, and please choose something cheaper than my remaining arm," he said, drawing the narrow Sterling saber from his left hip.

Mina pointed toward a brass conduit above the cabinet without looking back, "Cut that pipe after the pulse turns green, unless dying embarrassingly appeals to you."

The tunnel shook while violet mana poured from vents along the ceiling, thickening around their legs until each movement dragged against pressure.

Damien watched the conduit change from blue toward yellow, ’come on, green should arrive after two pulses, unless my memory is already lying again.’

The first pulse struck his chest, then another folded Mina against the cabinet while tools scattered across the stone.

He caught her shoulder as her head neared metal, and fear flashed openly across her face before anger shoved it aside.

"We are not getting buried under some rich family’s party room," she said, jamming her wrench between two crystals, "green means cut everything."

The conduit flashed emerald, and Damien drove his saber through brass while the blade screamed against trapped mana.

A wave hit from behind, lifting both bodies across the corridor until Mina’s harness caught on one exposed hook.

Damien landed against the wall and tasted blood, ’damn, nothing broke, I think, though my ribs are filing several complaints right now.’

The severed conduit sprayed blue fire across the ceiling, yet the black rune kept feeding from another line hidden beneath the floor.

Mina tore herself free and stumbled beside him, then shoved a small sensor against the bandage around his wrist.

"Your mana signature matches the anchor’s target lock," she said, breath coming fast while numbers rolled across the lens, "this trap wants you specifically."

"I was hoping the murder cuff finished today’s personal attention," Damien replied, wiping blood from his lip with one thumb.

A heavy lock slammed behind them, sealing the stair door beneath a sheet of violet light while every vent opened at once.

Mana rose past Damien’s knees and kept climbing, ’there goes the exit, fine, if this room wants me dead tomorrow, we can settle that problem tonight.’

He raised the saber toward the spreading black rune as Mina planted both boots beside the ruined anchor.