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

Chapter 264: Chapter 218: The Ethnic Is the Global

"Why do you look so unhappy?"

In the carriage, her mother, Susan, excitedly asked an Elsa whose face screamed, "I’m so tired, just let the world end."

In her eyes, being on a Demon Vision show was the highlight of her life so far.

Back in her home village, everyone had to crowd around to watch a Magic Vision Device, but she—she was about to appear on one.

The prevalence of Magic Vision Devices in the countryside couldn’t compare to the city; their entire village only had three.

Whoever owned a Magic Vision Device was a local celebrity.

Thanks to her daughter, Susan’s family also had one, which had really made her the talk of the town.

That is, until that dreadful Mrs. Megan next door bought a Magic Vision Device that was one size bigger.

And it wasn’t enough that she just bought it; she had to go around loudly proclaiming, "You can’t even see anything on the small screens."

’Oh, heavens, I can’t wait to see the look on Megan’s face when she sees me on the Magic Vision Device.’

"No, I’m happy. So happy. This is just great," Elsa said, as lifeless as a dead fish.

She was so against this whole matchmaking thing. The potential embarrassment was secondary; her main issue was that once she stooped to the level of blind dates, it meant she was truly "old."

Not old in terms of age, but old in the sense that her life was supposed to be entering the family stage, the kind of old where everyone starts seeing you as an adult.

Although Elsa had been working for several years and was a capable, independent assistant, deep down, she was still a kid.

"Smile! You’re about to be on Demon Vision. You’ll look better on camera if you smile."

Susan’s mother held up a small mirror, carefully checking her appearance.

This was another thing that annoyed Elsa.

The corporation’s makeup team had originally designed a whole look for her—makeup and outfit—going for a sophisticated, urban professional vibe.

She had loved it.

But at her mother’s strong suggestion, the whole family had changed into the traditional folk-style outfits from their hometown.

Styled by Susan herself.

A white silk blouse with puffed sleeves, a black velvet vest, paired with a long skirt embroidered with all sorts of floral patterns.

To Elsa, it just looked tacky.

The show’s styling team, however, was very pleased with it. They were delighted to have contestants from different ethnic backgrounds showcase their unique traditional attire on the program.

That was the official line, anyway.

But Elsa couldn’t shake the feeling that the production team was just exploiting the audience’s curiosity about the exotic, using her family for cheap entertainment.

Perhaps influenced by the prejudice against outsiders in Twin Tower City, she instinctively felt that everything from her hometown was embarrassing.

The carriage slowly came to a stop. The family stepped out and entered the studio, followed the entire way by a camera crew.

This carriage wasn’t for actual travel, of course.

It was just for filming the contestants’ entrance shots.

When Zog had accepted a sponsorship from a carriage manufacturer earlier, Elsa had wondered how they would manage to plug a carriage ad into a show filmed on a small island.

She never expected it to be so artless—just a brute-force product placement.

"Oh, you must be Elsa’s mother, Ms. Susan? That outfit looks wonderful on you. It makes you look so young."

Elsa was surprised to see Zog himself waiting at the entrance to greet her family.

"Hahaha," Susan’s mother let out her signature cackle. "You’re too kind."

Behind them, Elsa made a face at Zog, mocking him for such blatant flattery.

But as soon as she’d mocked him, she realized that compared to an old Dragon like Zog, her mother really was young.

’An honest Red Dragon!’

"Thank you for taking care of my two kids all this time."

As she spoke, Susan’s mother opened her bag and pulled out a sack of something.

"These are a special kind of bird egg from our hometown. They’re perfect for making fried eggs. Here, for you to try."

"Mother?" Elsa watched in astonishment as her mom just pulled out a bag of bird eggs and gave them away.

’This is so embarrassing.’

"Oh, well, thank you very much. I’ll gladly accept these. There’s a pre-interview coming up, and I have to get busy. If you need anything, just have Elsa contact me. She has my number."

Zog accepted the bird eggs, bringing the bout of greasy adult pleasantries to a close.

Once Zog was gone, Elsa complained, "Mother, why did you give him bird eggs? They aren’t even valuable."

She had vivid memories of those eggs. When she was little, they rarely had meat, so they relied on raiding nests for bird eggs for nutrition. Now, as an adult, the mere sight of them made her nauseous.

"That’s exactly why I gave them to him," her mother, Susan, replied matter-of-factly. "With your boss’s net worth, how valuable would something have to be for him to even notice?"

Elsa thought to herself, ’He’d notice anything even slightly valuable.’

Her mom continued, "So it’s better to give something uncommon. It shows you’re thoughtful. You should learn from this. I may have never worked in an office, but it’s really not that different from navigating relationships in the village."

"Yes, yes, I know."

"I’m serious. Your boss is such a good person—no, a good Dragon. He even came out to greet the family of a junior employee like you. If you get fired, you’ll definitely regret it."

"Him? A good Dragon?"

Elsa’s voice jumped several octaves.

"He’s a total smart-mouth, always mocking people because he knows they can’t beat him. He loves ripping people off—he’d even swindle a kid out of their allowance! And, and..."

The more Elsa spoke, the less confident she sounded.

Thinking about it carefully, even though she had basically been kidnapped into this job, she still got a salary, an annual raise, and a year-end bonus. The company had all sorts of benefits, they were often given gifts, there was usually no overtime—and if there was, it was always paid. Paid leave was mandatory, they were shielded from excessive internal competition, and there were no work messages after hours unless it was a real emergency.

’Come to think of it... he really is a pretty good Dragon.’