The Lamp That No Longer Shines: A LitRPG Action Comedy Chapter 59: Patch Notes: Stop Showing Off

[Ti]: Day 32, 03:15 PM

[Location]: Outside Lab 606

The heavy tal door of Lab 606 slamd shut, cutting off the hum of the reactor and the sll of ozone.

Hathaway stood in the cool corridor, holding two distinct weights.

In her left hand, the [Optimized Heartbeat Core], wrapped in velvet, pulsing with a warm, steady rhythm.

In her right hand, a heavy leather pouch that still carried the warmth of Nino Lucent’s impatience.

Nino had been efficient to the point of ruthlessness.

The mont the code stabilized, she had tossed the money bag at them like she was discarding a used tissue.

"Get that thing out of my sight," the Professor had commanded, already turning her back to check her instrunts. "Don't co back until the debt is cleared."

Hathaway opened the drawstrings.

Two heavy, glittering coins slid out, hitting her palm with a satisfying, tallic thud that resonated in her bones.

One was massive, the size of a poker chip, engraved with the Eye of Truth—[Grand Gold Solar (10g)]. Value: 1,000.

The other was half the size, stamped with the Yggdrasil Crest—[Standard Gold Solar (5g)]. Value: 500.

1,500 Solars.

Hathaway’s thumb rubbed the intricate grooves of the Grand Solar. The gold felt soft, dense, and incredibly real.

In her previous life, this kind of purchasing power represented a CEO-level consultation fee.

But as she weighed the gold against the crystal in her other hand, the realization settled in.

Nino hadn't paid her for "Five Hours of Labor."

Nino paid for the Result.

She paid to make a problem vanish without getting her own hands dirty.

I am not an employee, Hathaway realized, her fingers closing tight around the gold. I am a High-End Outsourcing Solution.

Her personal account held about 6,600 Solars. Adding today's bounty...

Total Assets: 8,100 Solars.

I'm rich.

A montary, foolish smile touched her lips.

Her stomach growled, and her mind instinctively converted the gold into calories.

A bowl of premium Seafood Risotto with Truffle Oil is 8 Solars.

Even if I eat five als a day, I won't spend more than 50 Solars.

8,100 Solars... I could live like a gluttonous queen for six months without working a single minute.

For a fleeting second, the suffocating pressure of survival lifted. The air in the corridor felt lighter, sweeter.

She looked past the gold, peering into the library of spells engraved on her own spirit.

The smile vanished instantly.

The cold reality of the Witch World crashed down on her, heavier than the gold in her hand.

No. I'm not rich.

I'm terrifyingly poor.

She looked at her current repertoire. It wasn't empty, but it was... Incompatible.

The Original Hathaway was Efficiently Lazy. She had bought the standard textbooks, designed models that were just good enough to pass, and engraved them for a mana capacity of 8,200 M-Units.

They were "Economy Class" seats.

But Hathaway was now trying to pilot a supersonic jet.

She rembered Victoria's ruthless diagnosis, the words stinging more than the mana exhaustion:

"You are trying to shove a Tsunami through a garden hose designed for a trickle."

Hathaway flexed her spiritual fingers. She could feel the lag.

Every ti she cast Fireball, the structure scread. It shook. It stuttered. It was like driving a Ferrari with the rusted wheels of a tricycle.

I should be grateful I didn't have to start from zero, she thought pragmatically. At least I own the Copyrights.

But to fix the lag, she couldn't just "update" the software.

She had to tear down the old models and re-brew the ink.

She ran the numbers, and the "fortune" in her hand suddenly felt like pocket change.

1. The "Refactoring" Cost:

She couldn't cheat the Chemistry.

To re-brew the volatile potion for [Fireball (Tier 3)]? Average cost: ~900 Solars.

To re-engrave the complex matrix of [Greater Mage Armor (Tier 4)]? That required rare diamond dust. Cost: ~2,500 Solars.

To update the dozens of Tier 1 and Tier 2 utility spells? Even at lower costs, the sheer volu added up.

To update her entire existing library... the total ca to nearly 10,000 Solars.

I have 8,100.

I can't even afford to fix the bugs in my current system.

2. The "Expansion" Cost:

And she still lacked critical tools. She didn't have [Dispel Magic]. She didn't have [Counterspell].

For these, she had to pay full price:

Copyright (~2,000) Materials (~1,000) = ~3,000 Solars per spell.

Hathaway shuddered, a bitter mory surfacing from the Original Hathaway's diary.

June 25th. The day she learned Fireball.

She had failed three tis.

Three pots of black sludge. Three instances of "900-Solar Cola" poured down the drain because the weather was bad or the stirring was off by a milliter.

2,700 Solars. Evaporated into thin air.

For the original Hathaway, that was a week's allowance.

For the current Hathaway, that was one-third of her life savings.

This is a bottomless pit, Hathaway realized.

Her fingers tightened around the Grand Solar until the gold edges dug painfully into her skin.

My family's poverty is temporary—mothers' paycheck will arrive next week. But this?

This hunger for optimization is permanent.

1,500 Solars isn't a 'High Salary'. It's barely enough to patch one bug.

"Are you done counting your copper?"

Victoria’s voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp.

She stood by the elevator, tapping her heel impatiently against the tal floor. She clutched [Deadlock Analysis] tightly to her chest, her face pale and drawn from mana exhaustion, but her eyes were already scanning the hallway, fueled by a different kind of hunger.

"My stomach is digesting itself, Ludwig," Victoria hissed, turning on her heel and jabbing the 'Down' button. "To the Cafeteria. Now."

Hathaway pocketed the heavy gold pouch, a smirk instantly replacing her gloom.

She didn't move imdiately. She just leaned against the doorfra, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh?" Hathaway drawled, mimicking Victoria's earlier tone. "I distinctly recall soone saying: 'Lunch can wait. The Logic cannot.'"

Victoria didn't blush. She didn't even turn around.

She simply stepped into the elevator, holding the door open with a glare that could freeze water.

"The Logic has been stabilized. The biological constraints are now critical." She stared at Hathaway. "Do not bore with semantics. Get in."

Hathaway let out a laugh, shaking her head.

Double standards. Classic Victoria.

"Understood, Ma'am," Hathaway sighed, walking into the elevator.

The doors slid shut, enclosing them in a comfortable silence.

Hathaway rubbed her empty stomach. The hunger she had suppressed for two hours finally roared back, louder than ever.

"Agreed," she murmured, watching the floor numbers drop. She glanced at her roommate. "But just so we're clear... that 'Ocean' I ntioned earlier?"

Hathaway closed her eyes, visualizing the nu.

"It's still on the nu. And I'm starting with the whales."

[Ti]: Day 32, 03:30 PM

[Location]: Cafeteria No. 1 · 2nd Floor (The zzanine)

The lunch rush was long over. The cafeteria was blissfully quiet, occupied only by a few sleep-deprived potion majors nursing cold coffees.

Clang.

A massive iron platter was slamd onto the table.

It contained the [Standard Witch's Seafood Risotto].

The saffron rice was cold around the edges, but Hathaway didn't care. It was the sa dish she had fantasized about outside the lab, but reality was even better: at 3:30 PM, the cafeteria ladies gave her double portions just to clear the pots.

She shoveled a mountain of clams and squid into her mouth like a woman possessed, the rich, buttery mana restoring her strength.

Across the table, Victoria sat before a Level 6 Tidal Dragon Steak.

It was her first al of the day.

She looked impeccable as always, but her hand trembled as she cut the at.

The [Deadlock Analysis] book lay open next to her plate.

Blue mana ripples flowed from her fingertips, scanning the text into audio.

"I hate... compiling," Hathaway mumbled, swallowing a massive prawn. "I thought copying a code would be instant."

Victoria paused, fork halfway to her mouth.

"The theory was instant, Ludwig. The implentation was manual labor."

"Heidi's equation was a single line," Victoria sighed, finally taking a bite of the dragon at. "But weaving that single line into a physical crystal without shattering the lattice? That took us three hours. Three hours of debugging a 'Perfect Solution'. The irony is palpable."

Hathaway nodded, pointing her spoon at the glowing red crystal sitting on the table between them.

It no longer pulsed with the raw, chaotic rhythm of Nino's heartbeat.

Instead, it humd. A stable, low-frequency vibration that felt... smooth. Expensive.

"But we did it," Hathaway whispered. "Nino wasn't kidding."

"Make it so perfect... that she has no choice but to accept the Price."

"We built a Masterpiece," Hathaway said, staring at the crystal. "It's stable. It's compatible. It's beautiful. But I still don't understand the logic, Victoria. I just followed your instructions on the circuit weaving like a robot."

"How did we stabilize a Void-Heartbeat paradox? Nino's own paper said it was theoretically impossible without a massive external anchor."

Victoria took a sip of water to clear the grease of the steak, then tapped the open page of the book.

"We didn't 'invent' the solution, Ludwig," Victoria said, her voice trembling with the reverence of a fan analyzing a masterpiece. "We are plagiarizing."

She pointed to the text on page 42.

"Look at the author nas again."

Hathaway looked.

Author:H. Lucent & N. Lucent.

"Heidi and Nino. They co-wrote this."

"Exactly," Victoria nodded. "The printed text here—the black ink—is the official solution. Look at the structure."

"It utilizes a 12-step recursive loop to stabilize the paradox. It is heavy, brutally complex, and filled with unnecessary traps. It screams 'Nino Lucent'."

Victoria's eyes glead with appreciation.

"Nino loves to build Labyrinths. She wants her logic to be a fortress that no one can breach. It is impressive, but it is Over-Engineered. But look at the margin."

Victoria’s finger traced a line of bold, aggressive red ink that had been scribbled over the printed text. It was a single, chaotic equation that slashed through three pages of Nino's intricate derivation like a blade.

Next to it, a handwritten note read:

[Stop showing off, Nino. You are building a maze to cross a street. Just invert the causality axis. —H]

"This," Victoria whispered, her eyes shining with manic admiration. "This is the Author's Annotated Edition."

"Heidi Lucent didn't just edit the book. She vandalized her sister's work. She saw Nino's magnificent fortress and tore it down with a single line of code."

"We spent the last three hours weaving Heidi's Insult into the crystal," Victoria smirked. "That is why the crystal is S-Class. We are using a patch written by the Apex of Wisdom herself to mock her sister."

Hathaway stared at the scribble.

A chill ran down her spine.

So... we are just Ctrl C and Ctrl V-ing a sisterly quarrel?

And Nino made us retrieve this specific book because she knew this note was here.

"But why?" Hathaway asked, putting down her spoon. "Spectra hired to steal the raw data because she wanted to do the work herself. She wanted to build her own driver."

"Why did Nino force us to finish it for her? Why give a thief a better car than the one she tried to steal?"

Victoria cut another piece of steak, chewing slowly as she organized the logic.

"Because Spectra is trying to be independent," Victoria said calmly. "She wanted to steal the 'Ingredients' so she could cook the al herself. If she cooks it herself, she owes Nino nothing but a petty apology for the theft."

Victoria pointed her knife at the glowing crystal.

"But Nino just took away the ingredients and served her an Imperial Banquet."

"Think about the value, Hathaway. Raw data? Cheap. Replaceable."

"But a crystal woven with Heidi Lucent's handwritten code? A code that bypasses months of calibration? A code that guarantees zero rejection?"

Victoria sneered elegantly.

"This is no longer a tool. It is a Luxury Asset. Nino is inflating the value of the transaction," Victoria explained. "She is saying: 'I don't want your petty theft. I want to settle the Account.'"

"The Account?" Hathaway blinked. "What account?"

"The one Nino ntioned in the lab," Victoria reminded her. "Professors like Nino always have open ledgers. Maybe she owes Spectra's family a favor. Maybe she just wants to buy Spectra's silence or cooperation for the future."

"Whatever the debt is, Nino decided that this crystal is expensive enough to pay it off."

Victoria closed the book with a heavy thud.

"It is a hostile act of generosity. Spectra wanted to pay 10 Solars to build a bike. Nino just dropped a limited-edition spacecraft on her lawn and said: 'We are even.'"

Hathaway stared at the humming red crystal.

It looked innocent. It felt warm.

But now, all she could see was a price tag with too many zeros.

"So I'm not delivering a heart," Hathaway whispered. "I'm delivering a Receipt."

"Precisely," Victoria wiped her mouth with a napkin, her movents graceful and final. "Nino gets her ledger cleared. Spectra gets her heart. And you..."

Victoria slid the crystal across the table toward Hathaway.

"...You get to be the unfortunate ssenger who tells the client that the price has changed."

The heavy silence lingered for a mont, only to be broken by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

"I'm going back to the Dormitory," Victoria announced, standing up.

She imdiately began casting [Prestidigitation] multiple tis. Blue sparks danced over her trench coat and gloves, scouring away every molecule of roast dragon at scent. She wouldn't dare touch the holy scripture with greasy fingers.

She clutched [Deadlock Analysis] to her chest with a terrifying possessiveness.

"Nyx gave a 24-hour loan period. I have exactly 20 hours and 30 minutes left." Victoria’s eyes burned with manic determination. "I am going to transcribe every single word of Heidi's margin notes into my personal grimoire. I will not sleep tonight. I will not blink. I will absorb this book."

She turned to Hathaway. "You are on your own for the delivery."

"The Ghost Dorms are in the Shadow Sector."

Victoria pointed a gloved finger toward the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the cafeteria.

Through the glass, the distant south-eastern corner of the campus looked unnaturally dim, even under the afternoon sun.

"To my eyes, it is not just dim," Victoria murmured. "It is a large, blurry smudge of black mana staining the horizon. You can't miss it."

She paused, looking at Hathaway.

She seed to debate whether to say sothing, then sighed lightly.

"Spectra knows the basic rules of hospitality. She won't actively drain you."

Victoria adjusted her gloves, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

"But she is still a Ghost Witch. Her passive field is cold. Just keep a standard social distance—two ters—and you'll be fine."

Victoria narrowed her eyes slightly, a hint of disdain curling her lip.

"I'm only warning you because I saw you in class. You have zero survival instincts when it cos to pretty won. You were practically leaning on her shoulder in the lecture hall."

"Don't get distracted by her face and forget the safety distance," Victoria scoffed, turning around and flicking her silver hair. "If you co back shivering with 'Soul Chill' just because you wanted a better look, I will be very annoyed. I hate the sound of sick people coughing in the dorm."

Hathaway blinked, then smiled slightly.

"Got it. Two ters. No hugging the ghost."

"Good. Now go. I have a date with Heidi's handwriting."