"Mana? Game? Tablet?"
Mr. Wynn understood each of those words individually, but combined, they formed something entirely unheard of.
"Is this something those wizards in the Tower cooked up?!" Mr. Wynn's teeth gritted with a sharp, grinding noise. "I've always minded my own business regarding the Mage Tower; why are they trying to snatch my livelihood?!"
He glared at the manager, looking like a furious lion ready to tear a pathetic prey to pieces.
The manager, meanwhile, was staring intensely at his own fingernails, not daring to meet his boss's eyes. "From what I've gathered, the inventor of the Magic Game Tablet is a freelance magic performer..."
"You mean he's not even a proper wizard?!" Mr. Wynn's voice jumped an entire octave. "A street busker? A stage magician is stealing our users and squeezing our market share?!"
The manager felt like he had turned into a literal waterfall. The river of sweat pouring off him was enough to row a boat on.
"Mr. Wynn, the Magic Tablet initially launched as a magical toy, attracting many wealthy young people. They are 'Norelia Telecom's' primary customer base. Furthermore, sending messages on the tablet doesn't incur extra fees—there's only a character limit. Most importantly, it's portable..."
The manager's voice grew quieter and quieter as he noticed Mr. Wynn's expression darkening. The atmospheric pressure in the room was dropping so low it felt as if a once-in-a-millennium thunderstorm was gathering around them.
Just as the manager thought he was about to be incinerated by the lightning of Mr. Wynn's rage, there was a knock on the study door.
"Sorry to interrupt your meeting, Dad." Chris's golden head popped into the room. "Mom sent me to ask if these three gentlemen are staying for dinner."
Mr. Wynn's anger subsided slightly. He was always stern with subordinates, but the mere mention of his wife made him instantly amiable. The manager often wondered if Mrs. Wynn had studied magic herself; how else could she keep this lion of a man as docile as a house cat?
"Look at me, forgetting the time once I start talking about work." Mr. Wynn stood up as if nothing had happened. "Gentlemen, we shall discuss this further at the office tomorrow."
The manager felt as though he'd received a royal pardon. He bolted from the study, casting a glance of profound gratitude toward Chris.
Chris saw the guests out and returned to the study to find his father sitting at the desk, brow furrowed in deep thought. He reached into his pocket, gripped the long-prepared gift, and paced to the desk. "Dad, welcome back. Long trips are exhausting."
"If you were a bit more promising, my exhaustion would be significantly lessened," Mr. Wynn said unpleasantly.
Chris pouted. The first thing his dad did was nag him. The stress of work had clearly broken the man. But it was fine; once he received this grand gift, his mood would surely soar like a glider.
"Dad, I got you a present. Ta-da—!" Chris revealed the item with exaggerated flair. "You've been away from Norelia for a while, so you probably haven't heard of this. It's the most popular toy in the city right now—the Magic Game Tablet! I bought it specifically for you!"
He looked at his father happily, waiting for the praise.
However, things didn't go exactly as he imagined. Mr. Wynn's mood did indeed soar like a glider—but a glider that was currently in a terminal nose-dive.
"You're saying this is a Magic Game Tablet?!" He clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. "And you spent money on it?"
"Yeah!" Chris blinked, confused. "They're sold out everywhere! Luckily I had the foresight to pre-order several, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to get one!"
Slap!
A loud sting landed on his cheek. Chris was stunned.
Why did Dad hit him? He had bought so many luxury items before, each far more expensive than a tablet, and his dad had never said a word! Grievance, anger, and confusion swirled together like a bursting dam, flooding his brain and then erupting from his eyes.
"You have the nerve to cry!" Mr. Wynn snatched a feather duster from the corner of the study. "Do you have any idea that this very tablet is stealing my business?! And you're giving him money?! You unfilial waste! You blundering idiot!"
"You actually hit me! Even my mom has never hit me!"
"Shut up! I'm going to teach you a proper lesson today! Stay right there!"
The commotion reached Mrs. Wynn. Led by a maid, she rushed in just in time to see Mr. Wynn chasing Chris with the duster. She stepped forward, shielded her son in her arms, and glared at her husband.
"You just got home and you're beating the child? Have you lost your mind?"
Mr. Wynn's hand, raised with the duster, froze in mid-air. "This brat actually gave me the competitor's product as a gift!" he panted. "That magic tablet... do you know how many customers it has cost the company..."
Mrs. Wynn didn't quite understand the connection between a magic tablet and a telephone company—they seemed like two completely separate fields. But she shrewdly guessed that the meeting with the executives had been about this very topic.
"But Chris didn't know!" she snapped. "Who would have thought a toy could steal a telephone company's business? You didn't even see it coming yourself! Chris just found something new and fun and wanted you to be happy. He did it all for you, and you hit him for a reason he couldn't possibly have known!"
"I..." Mr. Wynn's fire died out.
Every time he argued with his wife, he lost. He suspected it was because she had been a member of the Norelia University Philosophy Department debate team and had written that paper on emotional energy conservation.
Mrs. Wynn said, "We're leaving, Chris. Today I'm taking you to your grandfather's. Your grandfather always says 'ignorance is not a crime,' unlike some people."
She pulled her weeping son out of the study, not forgetting to toss a sharp "eye-dagger" back at her husband.
"Wait, Marian! Listen to me, Marian...!"
Mr. Wynn watched their retreating backs and slumped dejectedly into his soft armchair. He knew his wife's temper; once she decided on something, no one could stop her.
It was all the fault of that hateful Magic Tablet! Not only stealing his customers but now turning his family against him! A true arch-nemesis!
"I must find a way to deal with this wretched tablet and that street busker. While they're still small... if I don't crush them in the cradle, they'll be impossible to deal with later," Mr. Wynn hissed through gritted teeth.
But how? Hire thugs to visit the shop and show them the "harshness of society"? No. Even a street magician knows some magic. Mr. Wynn had never studied it, but every citizen of Norelia knew how powerful and terrifying magic could be. That was why the Mage Tower always escaped demolition and stood on prime real estate—no one dared cross a wizard.
Wait—he had it!
He didn't understand magic, and neither did anyone else. He feared magic, and so did the public. The customers were flocking to the tablets only because curiosity had overridden their fear. But if he could trigger the fear deep within their hearts, they would cast the tablets aside like trash.
Having made up his mind, Mr. Wynn picked up the phone and dialed his secretary, Sherwood.
"Sherwood, I have a task for you. The kind of pen-work you're best at," he said lowly. "Write an article immediately and send it to the newspapers. Say that the Magic Tablet..."
The Magic Game Experience Store felt a bit... off today, Lorne thought as he walked in.
If he had to put his finger on it—the place was completely deserted. Since the official launch, he had left the shop to Silas and Serina while he stayed in the dungeon fixing bugs, only swinging by in the afternoons.
Yesterday, the place was vibrant with a massive queue. Today, it looked like a nuclear fallout zone.
"Wolf, did you do something to the customers?" Lorne looked at the werewolf guard.
"Wasn't me!" Wolf, in his human form, stomped his foot. "It must have been Silas or Serina!"
Serina's brows arched. "Say another word and I'll skin you for a dog-fur coat."
This was strange. Even if player interest waned, it should be a gradual decline, not a vertical drop-off. In Lorne's experience, a sudden crash in "Daily Active Users" (DAU) usually meant the game or the operation had stepped on a landmine. But he couldn't recall doing anything to offend the masses recently.
"Lord Lorne, this is bad!"
The door was shoved open with immense force. Silas rushed in, panting, and slammed a stack of newspapers onto the counter. "Read the headlines!"
Lorne picked up the top copy of the Morning Star. The headline screamed in bold letters:
MAGICAL TOY OR MAGICAL WEAPON? BEWARE OF MANA RADIATION DESTROYING YOU!
Miss S of Norelia recently received a unique gift from her fiancé—a Magic Game Tablet. This delicate, magical, and ever-changing toy immediately captured her heart.
However, Miss S soon discovered her body felt wrong. "My skin is deteriorating, and my spirit is flagging," she told reporters. "I used to have great vision, but now I can't see clearly. I suffer from insomnia, anxiety, and diarrhea..."
After consulting a doctor, Miss S was horrified to learn that her symptoms were caused by 'Magic Radiation'! And the source was none other than that beloved Magic Tablet!
(Continued on page 3)
"Now I know where the customers went," Lorne said softly.
"This is utter nonsense!" Serina crumpled the paper in a rage. "The tablets have zero radiation! Lord Lorne, let me write a rebuttal..."
Wolf sneered. "Forget it, your writing is terrible. I should find this reporter and give him a beating until he forgets how to lie." He cracked his knuckles.
Lorne tossed the paper aside. "It's useless. Silence one reporter, and another will pop up. Don't you see? All the newspapers running this at once means there's a puppet master behind the scenes."
Essentially, someone was sending out a "press release" to smear Lorne. An average person wouldn't have the money or the boredom for this. This "mastermind" had to be wealthy. And this style—the "crush the opponent into the dirt" method...
"I see. It's likely a competitor," Lorne curled his lips. "If you touch someone's cake, you have to be prepared for the retaliation."
"What do we do?" Silas asked timidly. "Find the mastermind and beat them up?"
Lorne shook his head. "When a new product appears, it inevitably threatens the interests of the old. As long as we make tablets, this will keep happening."
"Are we just supposed to take it?!" Serina nearly ground her teeth to dust. "I'm no saintly priestess. If someone slaps my left cheek, I'm not giving them the right—I'm turning their head into a pig's head!"
"Assault is illegal, Serina. I don't want to visit you in prison." Lorne rolled up the newspaper and tapped the three monsters on the head. "They don't want us to make money? Then we'll use this opportunity to make a fortune and make them eat their own words. That's the best way to handle them."
"How can we make money if the customers are scared off by rumors?" Wolf asked skeptically.
"I have a plan," Lorne said. "Closing early today. Everyone back to the dungeon. By the way, we have plenty of Slimes in the dungeon, right?" He smiled. "Gather the Slimes. It's their turn to be heroes."
Lorne's Crisis Management Plan:
Phase 1: Identify the "Black PR" source (The Telecom Giant).
Phase 2: Leverage the "Magic Radiation" fear into a new product line.
Secret Weapon: The Slimes.
How will Slimes stop "Magic Radiation" rumors? Will they become anti-static cleaning cloths, or is Lorne planning something far more biological and bizarre?