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

Damien’s phone vibrated itself across the bedside table before sunrise, dragging him awake beneath a blanket twisted around both legs.

His body felt stronger after twenty-two levels, though every rib still remembered the underground ward, ’ugh, apparently gaining power does not include free sleep, what kind of cheap system is this?’

He caught the phone before it reached the floor and found nine hundred notifications stacked beneath a frozen image of his black-red aura.

The most popular clip showed Lucas bleeding through one white glove, while Damien walked away from the stage without looking back.

’They made his cut the thumbnail, People are awful, though I appreciate their priorities.’

Another video replayed the ward imprint beside Vivienne’s unfinished announcement, adding dramatic music over Mina’s repair notes.

Damien opened the comments and regretted that choice within three lines, since strangers blamed possession before debating secret training, then forbidden drugs somehow became several bedroom problems.

"Six million views and somebody still spelled my name wrong," he muttered, sitting against the carved headboard, "fame really is completely useless."

A system panel appeared above the phone before he could close the worst thread.

[Divergence Updated]

[Current Divergence: 4%]

[Foreknowledge Integrity: 96%]

[Correction Pressure Detected]

The final line pulsed red while a dull ache started behind Damien’s right eye, ’Correction pressure, oh, the story notices me now, which sounds much less fun than going viral.’

He tried remembering the gala Chapter within the original novel, but one waiter’s face had vanished from the scene inside his head.

The missing detail left a clean blank between two tables, and fear arrived hard enough to make his fingers tighten around the phone.

’No, that man carried something important, damn, was it poison? Maybe a message, unless those really were only drinks.’

Nothing returned, so Damien opened a note and wrote down every remaining gala detail before more pieces disappeared.

Three sharp knocks interrupted him, then the young maid from yesterday entered with a covered breakfast tray and Merrick’s broken restraint case.

Her dark braid hung over one shoulder, while tired brown eyes kept drifting toward the bandage around Damien’s wrist.

"Um, the healer expects your channels to recover by tomorrow, though Lord Cassius’s office requested this device immediately," she said, placing both items beside the bed.

"Keep the cuff here until Mina examines it, and tell Cassius the murderer forgot his toy," Damien replied, lifting the silver lid.

The maid swallowed before nodding, then uncovered eggs beside toast that looked safely ordinary.

"My name is Elara, sir, if you need somebody to carry that message," she said, smoothing her blue-gray skirt with one palm.

Damien paused over the plate, ’Elara, the original novel never named her, yet she watched Merrick nearly kill me without running, interesting.’

"Elara, eat first, then send it after your hands stop shaking," he said, pushing the untouched toast toward her side of the tray.

She stared at him as if the bread had begun speaking, "Lord Damien, household staff do not share meals inside family bedrooms."

"Yeah, yesterday household officers tried cooking my core before breakfast, so tradition feels slightly behind current events," he replied, picking up the eggs.

Elara took the toast with both hands and left quickly, though the smallest smile appeared before the door closed behind her.

Damien watched the untouched eggs beside her empty chair, ’she expected punishment for accepting bread, yeah, this house keeps finding new ways to feel rotten.’

A black envelope waited beneath the restraint case, bearing Aldous Sterling’s silver crown pressed deep into its wax seal.

’Father wants an appraisal now, damn, standing near a man forty thousand levels above me should feel completely normal.’

Damien broke the seal and found one sentence ordering him to report after Halcrest’s midterm period, with no greeting attached.

The body’s old fear made his stomach tighten again, ’calm down, he is not here yet, seriously, original Damien, your family did a number on you.’

Across Averill, a first-year student named Tovin Reed watched the gala clip for the seventeenth time inside Halcrest’s crowded breakfast hall.

Tovin had sandy hair hanging over a narrow face, with a thin build hidden beneath an oversized academy coat whose blank cuff showed no Board rank.

He paused the video when Damien’s aura spread, then zoomed toward the moment three older students stepped backward together.

"Trash Aspects do not make an entire room forget breathing," Tovin said, turning the phone toward his tablemate, "that assessment was completely wrong."

The girl beside him refused to look again, though every nearby screen displayed the same black-red frame.

At the far wall, Halcrest’s Ascension Board still listed Damien Sterling without a ranking, beneath students who had never entered a sanctioned duel.

Tovin looked between that empty line and the silent gala crowd, then saved the clip before an academy moderator removed another copy.

Back at Sterling residence, Damien reached the gala replay showing Lucas approaching Vivienne after the cameras stopped following her.

The angle came from a balcony phone, catching both figures beside a marble column while servants cleared broken glass nearby.

Lucas offered his uninjured hand with that bright public smile, "Lady Ashe, last night became crueler than anyone deserved, so please allow me to help."

Vivienne looked at his palm without taking it, her white cape folded over one arm while anger remained visible around both eyes.

"Help with what exactly, Lord Arden, since you approached before anybody confirmed the ward existed?" she asked, stepping away from his hand.

Lucas’s smile held, though one corner reached its position late, "I heard concern among the guests and wanted to ensure your safety."

"Then explain why your concern began before Damien displayed the recording," Vivienne replied, turning toward the exit.

The clip ended on Lucas standing alone beside the column, and Damien replayed those final seconds twice.

His thumb stopped over Lucas’s delayed smile, ’he knew where to stand before anyone found the ward, shit, Vivienne noticed the same problem.’

’She noticed his timing, good, though calling me Damien instead of that man feels strangely dangerous for my peace.’

His phone chimed again with an official Halcrest notice, placing a mandatory re-entry time beneath tomorrow’s date.

[Halcrest Academy]

[Student: Damien Sterling]

[Status: Active]

[Ascension Board: Unranked]

[Challenge Pending]

He opened the attached challenge and found Bram Holt’s square portrait above a sanctioned blood-duel request.

The senior’s conditions allowed crippling force, blocked outside surrender after first blood, and protected the winner from household retaliation.

’Bram, this idiot beats the original Damien until Lucas steps in, then spends fifty Chapters bragging about it, so naturally he wants an early turn.’

A message appeared beneath the terms before Damien could accept them with his thumb.

[BRAM HOLT: Come back quietly and kneel before the arena fills.]

Damien read the line while his new strength pressed pleasantly through both arms, then touched the acceptance mark with one thumb.

"He wants kneeling before breakfast too," Damien said, dropping the phone beside Merrick’s cuff, "these people need a second hobby."

The duel notice turned red and spread across every Halcrest screen, naming tomorrow evening beneath two waiting portraits.

Damien finished his eggs while Bram’s challenge counter climbed past ten thousand viewers, ’fine, let the academy watch, I need somewhere public to test what sixty-three levels can actually do.’