Epilogue: Lawsuit Confirmed

A few months after we saved the world with a job offer, a new, deeply chaotic, and profoundly lazy peace had settled over the Kingdom of Lysvalde. My life, against all odds, had found its rhythm.

In the office next to my own, the former Demon King, Rumiri Tempest was asleep on a large, comfortable sofa. Their silver-blue hair was fanned out across the lap of Catarini Cleas, who was humming a soft tune while patiently untangling the knots. They had found their quiet corner of the world, a peaceful sanctuary from which they could perform their duties as a my partner, the Kingdom Hygiene Inspector, a job Rumiri had yet to actually begin.

My own situation was, which I’m proud to say, largely the same. The afternoon sun streamed through my room, illuminating the comfortable clutter of a life well-lived and a job well-avoided. I was on my own sofa, my head resting comfortably in Princess Marie’s lap as she read a book.

"This 'nothing' I plan on doing for the rest of my life," I said, my eyes closed, holding one of her free hands. "It's going to be incredibly boring without my favorite manipulative princess around to make things difficult. So, you'd better stick around, Marie-chan." While kissing her hand.

It was the closest I could get to a real confession—a promise wrapped in a complaint.

She smiled, putting her book away, her fingers gently running through my hair. "I suppose I can fit that into my schedule, Akina-sama," she whispered, her eyes locking with mine as a beautiful, genuine smile formed on her face.

It was a moment of perfect, earned peace. The plot was over. The story was finished. This was the ending.

And then, of course, a frantic, panicked knocking on my door ruined the moment.

Before I could even shout “go away,” the door burst open. Edgar, my perpetually stressed-out Now Senior Inspector, stood in the doorway, his face pale and his chest heaving.

“Sir! Inspector Sukebe, sir! My deepest apologies for the intrusion, Your Highness!” he stammered, bowing repeatedly. “But… Sir, Director Godwin is looking for you! He said it’s an emergency! He even said to forcefully drag you if you refuse.”

I groaned, the feeling of peace shattering into a million pieces. I reluctantly got up and trudged out of my room, following Edgar to the Director’s office. I walked in lazily, slumped down onto the plush guest sofa without even really looking around, and closed my eyes.

“This had better be good, Godwin,” I grumbled. “I was in the middle of some very important, high-level… relaxing.”

“My apologies, Inspector,” Godwin said, his voice tense from behind his desk. “But this is a matter of the highest urgency. A special request. We have an urgent case of violations of safety and health conduct regulations by a new, unregistered organization. They call themselves the Cult of Diablo.”

My brain, which had been in a state of blissful semi-consciousness, stuttered to a halt. The Cult... Don't tell me it's from The Eminence in Shades. Okay, Author. Let's make a list for the inevitable cease and desist letter. We've got a barely-disguised Rumiri Tempest as the Demon King. We've got a knock-off Bakarina as his girlfriend. We have the Four Cardinal Morons from Shield Hero working as janitors, a fact I'm still deeply proud of. And now, you're not even bothering with parody anymore; you're just lifting the antagonist faction from another series wholesale.

Are you actively trying to get blacklisted from the entire publishing industry? This isn't a parody anymore; it's a shopping list of intellectual properties you've decided to shoplift. The whole industry would probably send assassins for you. But if not, then I hope you have a good lawyer. A very good lawyer. You're going to need one.

“This case requires a level of expertise that goes beyond our department,” Godwin continued, oblivious to my internal legal crisis. “Therefore, I will let her explain it to you herself.”

“Her?” I asked, finally opening my eyes.

Godwin gestured to the other side of the room. It was only then that I realized we weren’t alone. My head snapped around, and my brain stopped working.

Sitting on a sofa that must have been in my blind spot was a woman. She had been sitting there the entire time, her presence so skillfully concealed that I hadn’t even felt her. She was a vision of impossible, otherworldly beauty. Tall and slender, with long, golden hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. She was dressed in a form-fitting bodysuit of pure black that absorbed the light.

Lady Alpha.

And of course, it's Alpha herself, my mind reeled. You didn't even bother to change her name. You just dropped a main character from another series right into my epilogue. The sheer, shameless audacity... though I have to admit, if you're going to steal, at least steal the best. She is objectively a high-quality waifu. Perfect if the Author is ever interested in me exploring the Harem trope. I won't ever say no to that. 

She stood up with a silent, fluid grace.

“Hero,” Director Godwin said, his voice trembling slightly, “this is Lady Alpha.”

“We, the Shades Garden, are seeking for your help in regards of Sid Kaganou’s leave of absence,” she said, her voice like velvet and steel. “I, the first of the Seven Shades, am now the acting leader. We want you to track where the infection of a virus originally from. We suspect it’s from the Cult, but we don’t have enough evidence. We need your help.”

My perfect ending. My quiet life. My happy, lazy future. All of it, gone in an instant. The author, the cruel, sadistic, and apparently copyright-averse bastard, had just written a sequel hook using characters he didn't even create.

My mind went completely, utterly blank. My jaw was probably on the floor. And my final, coherent thought was a direct question to the god of this universe, the hack who was writing my story stupidly and half-assedly.

What the f did you smoke before you began writing?