The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

It wasn’t strange that the Elf had heard the rumor about Elsa being kidnapped. Ever since Zog made his appearance, all sorts of rumors about the Zog Group had been cropping up endlessly.

A corporation with a Red Dragon for a boss and a staff mostly comprised of species with shady reputations, one that had appeared out of nowhere, expanded rapidly, and constantly introduced novel products.

It was exactly the kind of "mysterious organization" that conspiracy theorists loved.

As for Elsa’s origins, they had stumbled upon the truth by accident.

But you could only say they were half-right. Zog had paid, after all. ’Can you call it kidnapping when money changes hands?’

There were far more rumors that were completely off the mark. For example, some claimed that the smaller Zog was actually the descendant of Zog the Scourge, a hybrid of a Red Dragon and a Succubus, and that his followers were all under his thrall.

Another claimed the Zog Group was part of a reclusive cabal that secretly controlled the world’s economy and politics, and Zog was merely the tip of the iceberg.

This cabal was now plotting a grand conspiracy to overthrow the world...

All of them were theories perfect for idle gossip after dinner.

It all felt very familiar, like when a middle-aged man gets drunk and starts pontificating about how the world works.

The opening gambit was usually something like, "You’re still young, you don’t get it. This world isn’t as simple as you think. As a man of experience, I’ve got to give you a piece of my mind..."

That was the general vibe.

"First, let’s get one thing straight." Zog had never expected someone to show up and ask to be "kidnapped"; it was a real eye-opener. "How old are you?"

"Uh, eighty-two," Kaelan answered timidly.

"Great. Elsa isn’t even twenty-eight, and you’re calling her ’big sister’." ’What a peculiar elven sense of time.’

"But I’m not of age yet, and she is," Kaelan said, his tone uncertain.

Elves generally looked like adults by the time they were sixty, but they didn’t fully mature until they were one hundred.

So Kaelan really was an underage Elf.

Zog had honestly never considered this approach to comparing ages.

Comparing ages based on the percentage of one’s total lifespan already lived.

’It actually seems somewhat practical for communication between long-lived and short-lived species.’

"Since you’re underage, signing a labor contract requires your guardian’s consent," Zog said, pulling out a contract he had prepared in advance.

"They consent!" Kaelan said frantically.

"Got it. So that means they don’t consent." Zog could tell Kaelan was lying with a single glance.

’It’s best to sort things out with his parents from the start. If I just sneak him away, it’ll be a bigger hassle when they come looking for him later.’

’And I mean ’sort out,’ not ’take out.’ I’m here to recruit, not to make enemies.’

"Don’t dragons love to carry off princesses?" Kaelan looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"First of all, dragons kidnap princesses for the ransom, and they eventually return them. Second of all, you’re a boy," Zog replied.

Although it was hard to tell Kaelan’s gender from his face, his prominent Adam’s apple was a dead giveaway.

’So he’s one of those crafty femboys, huh.’

"I’ll go talk to your parents," Zog said, pushing Kaelan aside with a claw and walking into the house.

The Elves’ home decor was prominently ascetic, or what one might call minimalist.

Not a single piece of non-essential furniture was to be seen.

The entire house was decorated in a cold, sterile color scheme. It looked beautiful at first glance, but living there must be incredibly uncomfortable.

Several rows of oil paintings hung on the walls. Judging by the signature, they were painted by one of Kaelan’s parents.

The paintings all depicted complex geometric figures, giving them the feel of hand-drawn CAD designs.

He couldn’t make sense of them, though; they just looked like a chaotic stack of complex shapes.

’Ah, art. It’s supposed to be incomprehensible. How could it be special if just anyone could understand it?’

An Elf, who appeared to be Kaelan’s mother, walked down the stairs.

Because of their slow rate of aging, the mother and son looked like they were the same age.

"Is the harpsichord teacher here?" Mrs. Kaelan asked.

The instant she saw Zog, her expression fell.

"So you’re that Zog who wants to lure away my Kaelan?" Mrs. Kaelan said, her tone hostile.

"To be precise, I’m offering him a job," Zog replied.

"Getting a job in that sordid world outside? What future is there in that? Not staying in the Silver-White City State to perfect his craft is a complete waste of a life," Mrs. Kaelan said.

"I’m young! I should be out exploring the Continent!" Kaelan retorted.

Few Elves enjoyed adventuring in the outside world, unless on a mission from the elders. That was why Elves were a rare sight in Adventurer Corps—even rarer than Half-Elves.

"You’re young now, but what about when you’re old? A job in the city-state is stable. You should be practicing diligently, become a musician in the Silver-White Orchestra. Isn’t that more respectable than... film scores? And listen to those tunes you write! They’re a chaotic mess, utterly devoid of harmony."

Mrs. Kaelan continued her tirade.

As a conservative Elf, she clearly disliked the jazz style: the extensive improvisation, the flashy rhythms, and the prominent timbres.

It was a world apart from the traditional style.

He wondered how furious she would get if she ever heard a song by the Zor Band.

"By the time you come of age, that boss of the what’s-it-called Zog Group might have died of old age for all we know."

Hearing this, Zog was not pleased. He thought this was a family soap opera. ’Why drag me into it?’

’When it comes to longevity, who could possibly outlive the Dragon Race?’

Kaelan tugged anxiously at Zog’s wing, signaling that it was time for him to work his magic. Wasn’t he the one who said he wanted to talk to his parents?

"These paintings... are they your work, ma’am?" Zog asked, completely out of the blue.

His extensive experience in online flame wars had taught Zog that trying to persuade someone with a preconceived notion was impossible; it would only devolve into a shouting match.

Therefore, it was better to treat this as a transaction and use enough benefits to ’buy’ Kaelan’s freedom.

With Elves, using money was tacky. The key was to appeal to their tastes, such as their devotion to art.

"Of course. They are my work." Although she was still fuming, when asked about her art, Mrs. Kaelan replied with immense pride.

"Are these figures an exploration of scenes that don’t exist in the natural world?" Zog asked.

"Hm?" Mrs. Kaelan felt as if she had suddenly found a kindred spirit. To think that a Dragon could guess her intentions just by glancing at her paintings.

"Yes. Ever since the invention of the camera, I have been exploring forms that don’t exist in nature to prove that the art of painting is superior to soulless photography," she explained.

Of course, Zog was no kindred spirit to Mrs. Kaelan. He had already done a complete background check on her through the Holy Tree.

At this point, Zog knew her better than she knew herself.

"Then, would a figure like this be more in line with your artistic pursuits?"

As Zog spoke, he activated his Illusion Mimicry, displaying a three-dimensional triangle.

Mrs. Kaelan took one look and was utterly captivated.

It was such a marvelous triangle, composed of three beams. The joints where the beams connected looked simultaneously angled and perpendicular.

It was a figure that could never exist in the natural world.

’How is this possible?’

’Is it an Illusion Technique? But even if it is, the image itself is real, isn’t it?’

Seeing her eyes glaze over, Zog concluded that she had entered a state of ’son-amnesia’.

’It’s perfectly normal for artists to get a little obsessed.’

"This is a Penrose triangle," Zog said.

"Penrose is?"

"A mathematician."

If Penrose wasn’t enough, there was always Escher. Zog had seen plenty of this kind of stuff.

But he decided to bring out the big guns.

Zog booted up a game that was still in development.

A figure appeared within the Illusion Mimicry against a gray background. The minimalist color scheme was an instant hit with the Elf.

It appeared to be a simple cube, but when Zog rotated a dial with the tip of his claw, one corner of the structure pivoted ninety degrees, forming a connected walkway.

An even more complex impossible figure.

Mrs. Kaelan felt as if the gates to a new world were opening before her, and behind them lay her ultimate artistic pursuit.

Just as she reached out to touch the illusion, Zog snapped it shut.

"What is that?" Mrs. Kaelan asked, her voice trembling with excitement.

"Monument Valley. A game."

"A game?"

"It’s full of art design like this, but it’s still in development," Zog said.

"How much does this game cost? Don’t dragons love Gold Coins?"

"How tacky," Zog said with a wave of his claw.

Mrs. Kaelan immediately took the hint.

"Take Kaelan."

"Mom?" Kaelan was both excited and a little hurt. ’Am I really worth less than a few geometric shapes?’

However, Zog didn’t relent. The tables had turned.

"I need you to survey the opinions of the Elves in this city regarding games and social networks. You’ll need to get a group of Elves to beta test it and then provide a user experience report..."

Zog rattled off a long list of demands.

’Since I’m already here, I might as well get some market research done.’