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Lord of Entertainment C358 Control
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 20:12:21 +0000 UTC(3rd Person POV)
Left alone in the room, Firfel watched Arthur with a puzzled expression. Something about him felt different — the way he spoke to the Big Four, the air of quiet dominance he carried.
"You sure it's wise to treat those big shots like garbage?" she asked, voice tinged with concern. "That kind of arrogance could come back to bite you later."
Arthur leaned back with a smug smile, gently reaching for her hand. "You worry too much. They’re no threat to me."
He glanced at her, eyes steady. "And definitely not a threat to us."
Firfel blinked, her shoulders loosening at his touch. "...Alright. You sound awfully confident — I’ll take your word for it."
Then she shifted the topic. “Anyway, after the Hellphone launch… I’ve lost count of how many businessmen tried to pull me aside.”
Arthur raised a brow. “What do they want?”
“They all want to meet you,” she said, brushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. “I think they want to buy the Hellphone patent.”
Arthur chuckled. “Buy the patent? That’s rich. No chance.” He shook his head. “They still haven’t learned. I already turned down Dwalric Corporation when they tried to buy out the barcode system.”
Firfel nodded, recalling. “And because they couldn’t get it, their rune-based pattern system flopped. I heard they lost billions and filed for bankruptcy just weeks ago.”
“They bet everything on trying to control the standard,” Arthur said, tone dry. “But their runes couldn’t compete with my barcodes. Market crushed them.”
“Right… I remember that now. They were even willing to gamble their entire fortune just to buy it from you.” Firfel tilted her head. “But still… a corporation that’s been around for centuries collapsing just because of barcodes? I don’t get how it works.”
Arthur grinned. “Don’t think too hard about it. In simple terms — your future husband always wins.”
Firfel let out a soft laugh. “Future husband, huh? Dream on. I made a promise — not until I find my missing sister. She comes first.”
Arthur nearly choked on his wine. ‘Should I tell her Sylwen’s alive?’ he thought. But... Sylwen wasn’t ready yet. Not yet.
He met her eyes. “Then I’ll find her for you. And when I do, you better give me a good reward.”
Firfel’s eyes widened, caught off guard. She stared at him for a moment, then smiled quietly and nodded.
After a moment of quiet between sips of wine, Firfel spoke up. “You forgot to give Apollonia a Hellphone, didn’t you?” She leaned against the table. “Now that she’s already left for Morningstar a week ago… how are we supposed to send it? I kind of wanted to stay in touch with her.”
Arthur shook his head. “It’s not that simple. The SIM card that comes with the Hellphone has a regional code — and Morningstar doesn’t have one yet. Without a registered regional SIM, you can’t make calls.”
Firfel blinked. “Oh. So what’s Horn’s code?”
“+01,” Arthur replied. “Horn Kingdom is the first to get it. The system can’t connect calls across regions without the matching SIM infrastructure in place.”
Firfel nodded, understanding now. “So we just wait until Morningstar has its own code?”
“Right.”
Arthur took a slow sip from his glass. Truthfully, he could enable global functionality. The Ancient Tree he controlled now spread its influence across the continent — its roots connected to leylines and magical circuits far beyond Horn, capable of transmitting and receiving signals from anywhere in the world.
But he didn’t. Not yet.
‘Regional codes were necessary,’ he thought. They weren’t just a technical limitation — they served a deeper purpose: control. By restricting service to designated areas, he could manage growth, avoid overwhelming his networks, and push nations to adopt his system under his terms. Without a regional code, a kingdom couldn't participate. That gave Arthur all the leverage.
---
Meanwhile, in the cities of the Horn Kingdom, the impact of the Hellphone was spreading like wildfire.
For the first time in history, ordinary citizens — those who could never afford the expensive Communication Scrolls, or the cumbersome wired telephones, or the clunky computers that required internet infrastructure — were holding long-distance conversations in the palm of their hand.
On the rooftop of a cramped apartment, a monkey demon clutched a small black Hellphone to his ear, eyes wide with excitement. “Ron! Ron, do you hear me?!”
“I hear you loud and clear!” a wolf demon shouted back from several blocks away, standing on his own balcony.
“HA! It’s working! This thing actually works!” the monkey demon howled in delight.
Similar scenes were playing out across neighborhoods, streets, and alleyways — laughter, disbelief, even tears as people connected with friends and family miles away.
Of course, confusion also reigned in some places.
“Why isn’t it working?! It says ‘Service unavailable!’” a puzzled lizardman grumbled, waving the phone in the air like a broken antenna.
His friend scratched his head, equally frustrated. But after fumbling through the manual included in the sleek black box, the answer was clear.
“You forgot the SIM,” his friend said, pointing. “And you need to load at least 1 HKD to make a call. It’s a service fee.”
“Ugh! Why didn’t they just say that?!”
Still, despite the hiccups, even the minor cost was far cheaper than telephones or enchanted scrolls — and much more convenient.
The age of affordable communication had arrived.
And the world was starting to notice.
Businessmen—particularly those from the wealthy circles of Wales—were starting to see an opportunity. Among them was a sharp-featured, elegant young man named Jacy Heart, the eldest son of a Welsh tycoon whose assets were valued at over 12 billion global dollars.
Jacy was lounging in his luxury hotel suite in Horn City, holding a sleek Hellphone in hand, his expression a mix of fascination and impatience. He pressed the device to his ear and called his butler.
“Old Kan, any word?” Jacy asked, voice sharp. “Did you manage to arrange a meeting with Arthur?”
Outside the gates of Hellfire Park, the well-dressed older man, Kan, stood with a tight frown on his face, brushing dust from his sleeve.
“My apologies, Master Jacy,” he replied grimly. “I tried. But after insisting on your behalf, the security staff had me escorted out.”
Jacy’s brow furrowed. He clenched the Hellphone with frustration. “Damn demons. This entire Horn Kingdom is nothing more than a province to us. And yet they treat us like beggars.”
Kan's tone darkened in agreement. “Perhaps we should ask the Horn Royal Family for help. And if this Arthur still refuses to cooperate... we can request the Wales Royal Family to dispatch the Great Knights.”
He paused, voice cold. “They’ll put that arrogant filmmaker in his place.”
Jacy tapped the armrest, thoughtful. “Calling in the Great Knights means asking for a royal favor. That’s not something the Heart Family can take lightly.”
“True,” Kan admitted. “But Arthur thinks that just because he has money, he can ignore the world’s order. With the Great Knights involved, even his so-called security wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Jacy narrowed his eyes, considering it in silence.
However—unbeknownst to them—their entire conversation was being monitored. The Ancient Tree’s embedded data collection system, rooted across all Hellfire communication networks, had flagged the threatening exchange. A nearby operator's eyes widened in shock as the intercepted dialogue played through his terminal. Without delay, he reported it to upper management.
Minutes later, a file landed directly in Arthur’s office.
He clicked play. A calm voice—Jacy Heart—was talking about “provincial demons,” “royal favors,” and “the Great Knights.”
Arthur raised a brow as he leaned back in his chair.
“Jacy Heart, huh?” he muttered. “I couldn’t care less about some pampered heir.”
But the mention of the Great Knights caught his attention.
His gaze sharpened. “The Great Knights... Now that’s interesting. Are they strong enough to take down a god like me?”
He doubted it. Very few in this world were capable of posing a real threat to him. And none of them would be wasting their time enforcing favors for spoiled brats.
With a chuckle, he closed the file and turned off the computer.
“I have more important things to do.”
His gaze drifted to the documents on his desk. He smiled.
“With the Big Four under my banner… the Hellfire Bank’s expansion to Morningstar won’t take long.”
Because of the recent surrender of the Big Four Banks, Arthur made a new decision: the Hellphone, originally restricted to credit card purchases for the first two weeks, would now be available for cash in just a few days.
The announcement sparked a wave of excitement.
Citizens who had previously been left out—those without credit cards, the working class who dealt in hard cash—were now relieved.
They had waited. They had hoped. And finally, their turn had come.
The Hellphone was no longer just a device for the rich.
It was now the device of the people.
