​The transition from "War Zone" to "Business Casual" was chaotic, wet, and involved a distressing amount of scrubbing.

​Maira had given them forty-five minutes before Director Vane returned. In that time, the dungeon staff had to pull off a miracle.

​In the residential quarters on Floor 2, the scene was pure pandemonium.

​"Hold still!" Grika shouted, wielding a stiff-bristled brush like a weapon. "You have ghoul-ichor in your hair! It's going to stain!"

​"Ow! Grika, that's my ear!" Reed yelped, trying to dodge.

​He was currently standing in the center of the communal bathhouse, a massive, steam-filled room carved from obsidian. Usually, this was a place of relaxation. Right now, it was a car wash for a Dungeon Lord.

​Luma was acting as the water source, blasting him with warm, pressurized slime to dissolve the river muck. Seraphine was handling the "detailed" cleaning, which mostly involved her using a sponge to aggressively scrub his chest while glaring at anyone else who got too close.

​"You are too thin," Seraphine muttered, tracing the bruising on his ribs where the Void Withdrawal had eaten at him. Her voice was low and dangerous. "They starved you. When the bureaucrat leaves, I will hunt him down. I will feed him his own ledger."

​"No eating Vane," Reed said, spitting out a mouthful of soapy water. "We need him to sign the papers. If you eat him, they just send another one. And the next one might not like pizza.

​"Inefficient," Maira's voice cut through the steam.

​The Demon Maid marched into the bathhouse. She wasn't wet; she was, as always, impossibly pristine. She held a hanger in her hand.

​"Time is a resource, Sir, and we are bleeding it," Maira clipped. "The lobby is 80% presentable. I have hidden the scorch marks behind the velvet drapes. I have conjured a table. Now, put this on."

​She thrust the hanger at him.

​It was his signature look: a crisp black button-down shirt, dark trousers, and the Black Velvet Coat. Maira had repaired the rips with shadow-thread, leaving the coat looking darker and slightly more ominous than before.

​"You fixed it," Reed said, touching the fabric.

​"I patched it," Maira corrected, pushing her glasses up. "It is a temporary solution. Just like this meeting. Now, dress. The Director is approaching the perimeter. And Inquisitor Kaelen…"

​Maira glanced toward the changing screen where Kaelen was frantically trying to polish the river-scum off her silver plate armor.

​"…The Inquisitor looks like she lost a fight with a swamp elemental."

​"I can hear you, Demon!" Kaelen shouted from behind the screen.

​"That was the point," Maira replied coolly.

​

The Negotiation

​Thirty minutes later, the Dungeon Lobby looked… passable.

​It wasn't the high-end luxury resort Reed dreamed of, but it no longer looked like a bomb site. The rubble was swept into the corners. The lighting was dimmed to a moody, atmospheric violet to hide the cracks in the ceiling. Luma had refilled the fountain, though the water was still a bit murky from the battle.

​Reed sat on one side of a conjured stone table. He felt raw, scrubbed clean, and vibrating with nervous energy.

​[MANA: 150 / 150]

[Status: REFILLED.]

[Void Corruption: DORMANT.]

​The Core hummed happily in the back of his mind, but there was a new tension in the air. A feeling of impending judgment.

​Across from him sat Director Vane.

​The Regional Manager of the Silver Flame Authority had set up his own workspace. It was a portable mahogany desk that he had apparently pulled out of a Pocket Dimension. It had a little brass nameplate that read [VANE - LIQUIDATION], a stack of pristine parchment, and a bottle of ink that looked suspiciously like blood.

​Between them stood High Inquisitor Kaelen. She was back in her armor, her hair damp and braided tightly against her skull. She stood at attention, her helmet tucked under her arm, looking like a soldier facing a court-martial.

​"Let us review the charges," Vane said, his voice dry and nasally. It was the voice of a man who enjoyed denyin loan applications.

​He picked up a piece of paper with two fingers.

​"Incident Report 44-Alpha," Vane read. "One count of Unauthorized Terraforming regarding the destruction of the River Bridge. Three counts of Unlicensed Necromancy regarding the manipulation of skeletal hostiles. One count of Public Indecency regarding the… 'Cave Incident'."

​Vane peered over his rimless spectacles at Reed.

​"And, of course, Gross Insubordination."

​He set the paper down.

​"The standard penalty for a Rogue Core is immediate termination," Vane stated calmly. "Followed by the shattering of the Core gemstone, the harvesting of all minions for alchemical components, and the salting of the earth to prevent magical regrowth."

​Grika, who was hiding behind a pillar with a wrench, let out a small squeak. Seraphine, standing behind Reed's chair like a bodyguard, hissed loud enough to vibrate the table. Her hand drifted to the hilt of her spear.

​"We saved the town," Reed countered, leaning forward. He tried to project 'CEO Energy,' not 'Guilty Monster Energy.' "You can't liquidate a hero, Vane. The PR would be a nightmare. Imagine the headlines: 'Authority Executes Savior of Stonebridge.' The Guilds would riot."

​"I can liquidate a liability," Vane corrected smoothly. "Heroes are expensive, Avatar. They break infrastructure. They require parades. They demand autonomy. I prefer assets that generate consistent revenue and stay in their boxes."

​He tapped the table with a skeletal finger.

​"This facility is a financial black hole. You generate chaos, not gold. My ledger shows zero taxable income for the last three quarters. Therefore, my recommendation remains: Termination."

​"Wait," Kaelen interrupted.

​She stepped forward. Her boots clanked heavily on the stone floor.

​"Director," Kaelen said, keeping her voice steady, though Reed could see the pulse jumping in her neck. "You are looking at the losses. You are not looking at the potential yield."

​Vane raised an eyebrow, a gesture that conveyed infinite skepticism. "Yield?"

​"This Dungeon," Kaelen gestured to Reed, "single-handedly neutralized a Level 6 Necrotic Incursion. It has high-level defenders capable of repelling Authority-grade threats. It has unique localized resources, specifically, the therapeutic water on Floor 2."

​She took a deep breath. This was the gamble.

​"I propose we do not liquidate," Kaelen said firmly. "I propose we Sanction."

​The room went dead quiet. Maira, standing in the shadows, looked up sharply, her quill hovering over her clipboard.

​"Sanction?" Vane frowned. "You want to make him a Vassal? He is a Rogue Core. He has Void contamination."

​"He is a Potent Core," Kaelen argued. "If we execute him, we lose a strategic buffer zone against the Northern Wastes. If we leave the mountain empty, another Lich will simply move in. But if we Sanction him… we gain a tax base."

​Vane paused.

​The word "Tax" seemed to have a physical effect on him. The tension in his shoulders dropped half an inch. A glint of interest appeared in his dead eyes.

​"Go on," Vane said.

​"Grant him Vassal Status," Kaelen outlined, reciting the code she had memorized during the agonizing march back. "He retains autonomy over his internal operations. He is granted protection under Authority Law against unlicensed adventurers. In exchange, he pays a tithe."

​"A heavy tithe," Vane muttered. He reached into his desk and pulled out a calculator—an abacus made of human knuckle-bones.

​He flicked the bones back and forth. Click-clack. Click-clack.

​He looked at Reed. He looked at the glowing purple Mana lights in the ceiling. He calculated the ambient density.

​"Forty percent," Vane said.

​Reed choked on his own spit. "Excuse me?"

​"Forty percent of your daily Gross Mana Generation," Vane stated calmly. "Payable daily. Directly to the Authority."

​"That's robbery!" Reed shouted, slamming his hand on the table. "Forty percent? I have overhead! I have mouths to feed! I have to repair a bridge you people clearly didn't maintain! Do you know how much a new blast door costs?"

​"It is the price of existence, Avatar," Vane said coldly. "You are a monster living on Authority land. You pay the rent, or you get evicted. And by evicted, I mean executed."

​Reed looked at Kaelen.

​She was standing rigid, staring straight ahead, but she gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Take the deal. It's the only way.

​Reed gritted his teeth.

​Forty percent was crippling. It meant he would be running on empty constantly. It meant no big upgrades. No army building. No expanding to Floor 4. He would be living mana-paycheck to mana-paycheck.

​But he would be alive. And so would Seraphine, and Grika, and the rest.

​"Fine," Reed growled, sinking back into his chair. "Forty percent. But I want a grace period. Two weeks to get operations back up to code."

​"Denied," Vane said instantly. "Payment starts immediately upon installation."

​Vane snapped his fingers.

​"Guard. Bring the Revenue Spike."

​Two guards marched in, carrying a heavy, lead-lined case. They set it down on the floor and opened it.

​Inside lay a three-foot-long spike made of dull, grey iron. It was etched with runes that made Reed's eyes water just looking at them. It looked like a torture device.

​"What is that?" Reed whispered.

​"The collection plate," Vane said. "It must be driven directly into the Dungeon Core. It siphons the mana at the source and transmits it to the Citadel."

​Reed felt sick. "Into the Core? That's… me. That's my brain."

​"It will only hurt for a moment," Vane lied. "Guard. Proceed to the Core Room."

​"No!" Seraphine roared, stepping forward. "You will not stab him!"

​"Sera, stand down," Reed ordered, his voice tight. He stood up. "If I don't do this, they kill us all. Let them through."

​Seraphine trembled with rage, but she stepped aside.

​The guards marched past. Reed felt a phantom pain in his chest just watching them go.

​Moments later, a deep, resonant THUD echoed from the depths of the dungeon.

​"GAH!"

​Reed doubled over, clutching his chest.

​It felt like someone had driven an icepick into his skull. A cold, draining sensation washed over him. It wasn't just pain; it was a vacuum. He could feel his mana—his lifeblood—being sucked away, siphoned off into the ether.

​[SYSTEM ALERT]

​[Status: PARASITIC ATTACHMENT DETECTED.]

​[Type: Authority Revenue Spike.]

​[Effect: -40% Mana Regeneration.]

​[Current Mana: 90 / 150 (Draining).]

​Reed gasped, steadying himself against the table. His vision swam.

​"Installation complete," Vane noted, checking a crystal on his desk that was now glowing with stolen blue light. "The flow is steady. Good."

​"You… enjoy this," Reed wheezed, sitting back down heavily.

​"I enjoy efficiency," Vane corrected. He pulled out a long scroll. "Now. Sign the Vassalage Accord."

​"I have a condition," Reed snapped, wiping sweat from his forehead.

​Vane paused. "You are in no position to negotiate, Avatar."

​"I am if you want this place to actually generate that 40%," Reed said. "I need a liaison. Someone to audit the books. Someone to make sure you don't screw me on the exchange rate."

​Reed pointed a shaking finger at Kaelen.

​"I want Kaelen assigned as my permanent Case Officer."

​Kaelen stiffened. Vane blinked slowly.

​"Clarify," Vane said.

​"She knows the layout," Reed argued. "She knows the staff. And frankly, she's the only one of you I trust not to stab me while I sleep. I want her attached to the project."

​Seraphine let out a low, unhappy growl, her tail thrashing. But she stayed silent. She knew they needed a shield.

​Vane turned to Kaelen. "Inquisitor? This is a degradation of your rank. You would be assigned to a… pit."

​Kaelen looked at Vane. Then she looked at Reed.

​She saw the sweat on his face from the tax spike. She saw the exhaustion. But she also saw the determination.

​"For the good of the Authority," Kaelen lied smoothly, keeping her face perfectly neutral. "I will accept the assignment. Close supervision is… required."

​"Very well," Vane decided. "It saves me the travel time. Sign, Avatar."

​Reed grabbed the quill. He signed REED - THE TEASING TOMB in jagged, angry letters at the bottom of the scroll.

​The magic of the contract flashed gold, sealing the deal.

​[SYSTEM ALERT]

​[Status Change: ROGUE -> VASSAL.]

​[Faction: Silver Flame Authority (Probationary).]

​[New Objective: PAY YOUR TAXES.]

​"Done," Vane said, rolling up the scroll. "Now. Before I depart… I smell yeast."

​Vane stood up, sniffing the air.

​"And… seared meat. And garlic."

​Reed sighed. He rubbed his temples. "Maira. Bring the bribe."

​Maira stepped out of the shadows. She placed a flat cardboard box on the table. She opened the lid with a flourish.

​Inside sat a Pepperoni & Basil Pizza.

​It was a masterpiece. The cheese was bubbling. The crust was perfectly charred from Terra's magma-oven. The scent wafted through the room, cutting through the smell of ozone and fear.

​Vane stared at it.

​"What is this geometry?" he asked, leaning in.

​"It's a circle of happiness," Reed said tiredly. "It's called Pizza. Try it."

​Vane picked up a slice with two fingers, holding it gingerly. He inspected the cheese pull. He sniffed the basil.

​He took a bite.

​Crunch.

​The room held its breath.

​Vane chewed slowly. His expression didn't change. He swallowed. He adjusted his glasses.

​"The caloric density is high," Vane observed emotionlessly. "The flavor profile releases significant dopamine. It is… highly efficient."

​He took another bite. Faster this time.

​"We accept the Vassalage," Vane announced, chewing with surprising speed. "You may continue operations. But remember, Avatar… if you miss a payment, I will come back. And I will not bring a contract next time. I will bring a wrecking crew."

​Vane stood up. He grabbed the rest of the pizza box, tucking it under his arm like a dossier.

​"I am confiscating this for evidence," Vane declared. "Guards. Move out."

​He marched out of the dungeon, clutching the pizza, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

​The Cost of Living

​Reed slumped in his chair, putting his head in his hands.

​"We survived," he whispered. "We're broke. We're owned by the government. My chest feels like I have a leech attached to my soul. But we survived."

​"We did," Kaelen said softly.

​She picked up her helmet from the table. She stood there for a moment, looking at him.

​The lobby was erupting into chaos. Grika was cheering, Terra was rumbling happily, and Seraphine was busy ordering the rats to clean up Vane's footprints because they "tainted the floor."

​Kaelen walked over to Reed.

​She stood close enough that her armor brushed against his knee.

​"I have to report to the Citadel," Kaelen said, her voice dropping to a whisper so Seraphine wouldn't hear. "I have to file the paperwork for your 'Sanctioned' status. I will be gone for a few days."

​Reed looked up. "Gonna miss me, Inquisitor?"

​Kaelen didn't smile. Her face was flushed, her blue eyes intense and complicated.

​"You owe me, Reed," she whispered. "I saved your life. I saved your dungeon. And now I am tethered to it."

​She leaned down, pretending to check the clasp of his cloak, but bringing her lips inches from his ear.

​"Work hard," she breathed. "Pay your taxes. Don't make me regret this."

​She paused, her breath hitching slightly.

​"Make me proud... Dungeon Daddy."

​She pulled back instantly. Her face was a mask of professional indifference, though the tips of her ears were burning red. She turned on her heel and marched out of the lobby, her cape swirling behind her.

​Reed sat frozen.

​His brain short-circuited. His face turned a slow, deep shade of crimson.

​Dungeon Daddy.

​She actually said it.

​Seraphine appeared at his elbow instantly. She narrowed her eyes at the retreating Paladin.

​"What did she say?" Seraphine demanded, her tail flicking suspiciously. "She whispered. I hate whispers. Was it a spell?"

​Reed touched his ear. "Uh. No. Just… bureaucratic instructions. Very boring."

​[SYSTEM ALERT]

​[Relationship Update: KAELEN (Level Up!).]

​[New Title Unlocked: DUNGEON DADDY.]

​[Effect: Charisma +10. Paladin Confusion +50%.]

​[Hidden Effect: Increases Harem Morale.]

​"Right," Reed exhaled, standing up on shaky legs. "Okay. Maira! Status report!"

​Maira stepped forward. She wasn't smiling. She was looking at her calculator with an expression of pure horror.

​"Sir," Maira said, her voice trembling. "I have run the projections with the new 40% tax rate."

​"Give it to me straight, Maira."

​"We are destitute," Maira said flatly. "With the current adventurer influx, we cannot cover the daily Mana Tax and the monster upkeep. We will be insolvent in six days."

​"Six days?" Reed rubbed his face. "Okay. We need revenue. Fast."

​"We need whales," Maira corrected. "High-spending adventurers. But our current attraction rating is too low."

​Reed looked at the empty lobby. He looked at the gloomy, tax-siphoning spike in the distance. Then he looked at Grika, who was playing with a pile of gold coins.

​"Gambling," Reed muttered.

​"Sir?"

​"We need a Casino," Reed said, his violet eyes lighting up. "We need to separate adventurers from their gold before they even enter the dungeon. Grika!"

​"Yeah, Boss?" The goblin looked up.

​"Can you build a slot machine?"

​Grika grinned, exposing all her sharp teeth. "Boss, I can build a slot machine that also shoots fireworks and dispenses whiskey."

​"Perfect," Reed said. "Act 4 starts now, people. We're building a resort."

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