Otome Game Mob Villain

Chapter 684

"Um, Lady Luva...?"

"What is it, Lord Rid? Ah—could you pass me another sheet first?"

"O-Of course. Here you go."

"Thank you."

As I handed her the paper, Luva passed the freshly typed document to a nearby noble, loaded a new sheet, and resumed typing.

The conference room, originally meant for negotiations, was now filled with the relentless clatter of the Punch-in Machine's keys. The occasional bell chime would briefly pause the rhythm, but the typing resumed almost instantly.

Each time she finished, Luva would wordlessly extend her hand with an aura so intimidating that I could only obediently hand her another sheet. She’d swiftly reload and begin typing again.

*How many times have we repeated this now?*

Luva, still seated in my original spot, was now surrounded by nobles scrutinizing the documents for errors.

"This is submission-ready for the royal capital. Impressive."

"We could use this as a template and replicate it a dozen times over."

"Incredible. A bureaucratic revolution."

"Maybe we’ll finally be free from carpal tunnel..."

That last one sounded a bit too hopeful—unfortunately, even the Punch-in Machine wouldn’t completely prevent repetitive strain injuries. But pointing that out now would just be tactless.

I checked my pocket watch. A considerable amount of time had passed. At this rate, the Punch-in Machine demonstration would overshadow the actual negotiations.

Glancing around, I saw Amon, Chris, Capella, Tink, and Emma all standing dumbfounded, the earlier tension completely evaporated.

This couldn’t continue. I cleared my throat exaggeratedly.

"Lady Luva."

"Yes?"

"It’s time to stop. Otherwise, we *won’t* be able to sell you the Punch-in Machine."

Luva’s rounded beast ears twitched, and her hands froze.

*Finally, she’s listening—*

***Crack.***

A sharp, almost electric sound snapped through the air.

Before I could even tilt my head in confusion, a numbing sensation crawled over my entire body.

Then—Luva’s expression darkened, her eyes radiating enough killing intent to flay skin.

Slowly, she turned toward me and spoke in a voice thick with venom.

"...*What* did you just say?"

Her mana pressure exploded outward, making the walls, tables, and chairs groan under the weight. The sheer force threatened to buckle my knees.

A glance at the nobles revealed some clutching their heads and crumpling to the floor with pitiful whimpers. Our side, though startled, managed to hold firm.

*Luva Gandarsika.*

Despite her cute appearance, her mana reserves rivaled—if not surpassed—Kamui and Elba in their beastified states.

Though, given recent events, I might’ve grown numb to this kind of pressure.

I forced a dry laugh, scratching my cheek.

"Ahaha... I may have misspoken."

"Then *clarify*."

Her pressure intensified, but I kept my composure, smiling deliberately.

"If we don’t return to negotiations, we *can’t* discuss the Punch-in Machine’s sale. What you’re using is still a prototype—officially, it’s not even on the market yet."

I showed her my pocket watch. Luva puffed her cheeks in frustration but finally relented.

"...I suppose I got carried away. My apologies."

"Not at all. I’m glad you’re so taken with it. Shall we resume?"

"Very well."

As Luva nodded, the nobles shuffled back to their seats—except for her.

She remained planted in place, fingers still hovering over the keys, only her gaze turned toward me.

"Lady Luva, your seat is over there."

"...I know." She paused. "Lord Rid, didn’t you say earlier that I resemble your wife, Lady Fara?"

"Y-Yes, I did...?"

Confused, I tilted my head. In response, she stood and closed the distance between us until her face was mere inches from mine.

Up close, her delicate features were undeniably striking—a refined beauty beneath that doll-like charm.

But this proximity was *too* much. My face heated up instantly.

"Wh-What are you—?"

She smirked at my flustered stammer.

"Nothing. I just wanted a closer look at your face."

"Uh... huh?"

As I stood dumbfounded, she reluctantly returned to her seat—but not before letting her tied-up hair down, shaking it loose with a practiced flick.

Then, with a smile that softened her eyes just like Fara’s, she murmured,

"Shall we resume, Lord Rid?"

"Y-Yes, of course..."

*No openings. No mercy.*

Chris, Tink, and Capella had been right. I took a steadying breath.

"Now, regarding the earlier estimate—we can forgo further discounts. In fact, we might even accept a slight increase. *However*..."

Luva’s finger tapped the Punch-in Machine meaningfully.

"...I want these. Not just a few—dozens, if possible. The more, the better."

"I’m delighted to hear that. In that case, I have a counterproposal."

"Oh?"

As she tilted her head, I gestured to the machine.

"In exchange for providing Punch-in Machines, I’d like the ratfolk to dispatch personnel to the oxfolk and bearfolk territories—as *typists*."

"Ty... pists?"

The unfamiliar term made her blink.

"Correct. Specialists trained to operate the Punch-in Machine for tasks like minute-taking, drafting applications, and processing directives in real time."

"Specialists... for *this*?!"

Luva’s eyes widened. A murmur rippled through the nobles.

But true to her reputation, she caught on fast.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she visibly began calculating the implications.

*Good. The reins are ours now.*

Outwardly, I kept my smile polite.

Inwardly, I was grinning.