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

Violet mana reached Damien’s waist before Mina ripped a flat charge from her harness, biting the safety pin loose with her teeth.

The sealed tunnel pressed against his skin from every direction, ’this stuff feels thick enough to drown in, wonderful, tomorrow’s gala nearly killed me before anybody served drinks.’

"Catch this when I throw it, then slap the bright side against that black rune," she said, twisting two wires together above the charge.

Damien looked from the blinking device toward the crawling mark, which had spread beneath three floor plates and half the ruined cabinet.

"Well, your instructions keep getting worse, so what happens if I touch the wrong side?" he asked, tightening his grip around the saber.

"Your remaining eyebrows leave first," Mina replied, throwing the charge through violet haze, "then everything important follows, so please aim properly."

He caught the metal square and lunged through the pressure, forcing both legs forward while the ward tried bending his knees.

’Come on, two more steps, you idiot, getting folded by glowing basement air would make a terrible second death.’

The black rune pulled away from his hand when the charge came near, stretching across stone as if some distant person had yanked its end.

Damien drove his saber through the retreating line, pinning it long enough to press Mina’s device against the center.

"Now would be an excellent time for whatever brilliant part you forgot to mention," he called, feeling the blade heat beneath his palm.

Mina slammed her wrench across both exposed crystals, "Yeah, I forgot the part where you duck before insulting my work."

White light swallowed the tunnel, then the ward pressure dropped hard enough to throw Damien onto both hands.

The charge cracked without exploding, sucking violet mana inward until one black thread remained trapped beneath its clear surface.

Mina crawled through settling smoke, then grabbed the device, ’she is smiling, right, this tiny lunatic nearly lost her face and found that exciting.’

"Oh, this ugly thing is definitely foreign," she said, turning the captured thread beneath her lens, "somebody grafted a target rune onto gala infrastructure."

"Can your sensor prove whose mana activated it before this anchor started failing?" Damien asked, sitting against the wall while his injured wrist started bleeding through fresh cloth.

"It proves the anchor targeted you, then woke early after somebody triggered a remote pulse," she replied, glancing toward his bandage, "which feels very murder-shaped."

Damien laughed once and regretted it when his ribs pulled, ’murder-shaped, yeah, I like her already, which seems dangerous for several completely different reasons.’

The stair seal faded after Mina bypassed its ruined lock, letting kitchen noise drift down from tomorrow’s half-built gala hall.

"Keep that recording somewhere nobody from Sterling can reach before tomorrow’s gala begins," he said, offering one hand as she climbed over the broken threshold.

Mina ignored his palm and hauled herself up using the doorframe, "Rich boys really think assistance begins after the dangerous work finishes."

She stepped into the service stairwell, then tossed him a small amber crystal containing the trapped black thread.

"Bring this tomorrow, and keep it away from whatever public disaster you are planning," she said, adjusting the tool pin inside her hair.

Damien closed his fingers around the crystal, ’public disaster sounds unfair, that speech hides an assassin, so surviving on camera should ruin both.’

The Foundation Gala filled Sterling Hall the following evening as white uniforms crowded beneath jeweled house crests, while cameras made every smile look rehearsed.

Damien entered through the main doors wearing a fitted black dueling coat, its empty crest slot visible beneath the left collar.

Conversations dipped around him before rising twice as loud, while phone lenses followed his walk toward the stage.

’Every face turned before I reached the stage, damn, these people really dressed up to watch free humiliation.’

Vivienne stood beneath the central chandelier with her ash-blond hair tied low, wearing a white Ashe cape over a regulation-perfect dueling uniform.

Steel-blue eyes found him across the crowd, and her posture stiffened when she noticed the empty crest slot.

Lucas Arden waited several steps behind her, golden-brown hair neat above hazel eyes, with a white uniform that somehow avoided every passing shadow.

He had a broad hero’s build without visible scars, plus the easy camera smile Damien remembered from far too many novel covers.

’That is Lucas, bro really does look professionally blessed, even his stupid collar sits perfectly without trying.’

A presenter offered Vivienne the stage crystal while the great-house gallery turned toward Damien in practiced anticipation.

She took it with one gloved hand and faced him directly, "Damien Sterling, our engagement has become harmful to both houses, so tonight I intend-"

"Before you finish that very prepared sentence, I am ending the engagement," Damien said, stopping beside the first camera rail.

The room went still around several hundred raised phones, though Vivienne’s expression barely shifted beyond one slow blink.

"You cannot interrupt an Ashe declaration and pretend the decision became yours," she replied, lowering the stage crystal by an inch.

"The decision is yours after mine stops trapping you inside it," Damien said, placing his signet on the public display console.

Murmurs spread behind him while the console rejected his first touch, then accepted the Sterling blood signature on its second pulse.

’Come on, Mina promised this ugly crystal would open the recording, so please avoid humiliating me during the humiliation reversal.’

An amber image filled every shared screen, showing the underground anchor as its black target rune tightened around Damien’s mana signature.

Vivienne turned toward the nearest display, and real shock reached her face when the recorded activation time appeared beside yesterday’s date.

"That ward sits beneath this stage," Damien said, letting the room watch the rune move, "and it was built to kill me during your announcement."

Lucas stepped closer to Vivienne, though his smile had disappeared, "Perhaps somebody altered the recording after discovering your plans for tonight."

"You reached forgery very quickly," Damien replied, tapping Mina’s sealed signature, "the academy repair system accepted this before I entered the hall."

A live verification mark opened across the screens, followed by Mina’s irritated technician note and three ward warnings nobody could dismiss.

Vivienne read each line with her jaw set, ’she did not know, fuck, somebody used her speech as the trigger and expected both of us to play along.’

"Who had access to the anchor before its remote pulse activated yesterday?" she asked, her formal voice turning flat enough to cut through the gallery noise.

"Sterling staff, gala repair officers, plus whoever sent yesterday’s remote pulse," Damien answered, keeping his eyes away from Cassius’s empty balcony.

The stage crystal dimmed inside Vivienne’s grip, and he saw anger shake one finger before she locked the hand still.

"This engagement ends," she said, facing the cameras again, "though no Ashe declaration will proceed above a weapon aimed at either participant."

Damien felt the original body’s grief rise beneath his ribs, then let it pass without reaching toward her.

’That hurts, apparently, but begging here gets us both killed, so the old owner can hate me later.’

"Good, then we agree on something useful," he said, removing his signet from the console, "you are free, while I remain annoyingly alive."

Vivienne held his gaze through another burst of whispers, clearly waiting for the insult or demand this room had promised her.

He gave neither, then stepped away from the stage as the first system panel opened across his sight.

[Script Quest Cleared]

[Foundation Gala]

[Rating: Perfect]

[EXP Gained: 1,170,000]

[System Points Gained: 3,780]

[Level Up]

[Level: 63]

[System Points: 4,200]

[Divergence: 4%]

Heat rolled through Damien’s body while murmurs became shouting around the shared screens, ’twenty-two levels, damn, forget dignity, I could kiss this ridiculous system right now.’

A second panel unfolded above the first, edged in black-red light that stained his reflection across every nearby lens.

[Hidden Achievement]

[You Hijacked Your Own Downfall]

[Title Earned: The Villain]

[Skill Unlocked: Dread Presence]

Pressure spilled from Damien before he understood how to stop it, forcing weaker guests backward while the entire hall fell silent.

Vivienne’s hand moved toward her sword, Mina grinned from beside the repair console, and Lucas lost his polished smile for one naked second.

Across the hall, the golden protagonist’s champagne glass cracked between his fingers, then one bright shard cut his perfect white glove.

’There, the story just missed a step, and Lucas finally bled for it.’

Damien turned toward the academy cameras as black-red light faded from his coat, then walked away before anybody recovered enough courage to block him.