A few days later, apparently news travels faster than magic because by day three, half the servants whispered that I was creating potions disguised as condiments and the other half thought I was brewing love elixir for Sir Alex to marry my fat ass.
Gosh! I can't blame them, the man was gorgeous in all the right way.
But priorities.
Honestly, it was tempting. Chubby could surely help me with some love potion but yeah not today Netflix.
Today, Sir Alex entered again, arms crossed, smirk cocked, watching my every step. Eyes so blue, smirk so cute, but I pretended not to notice but failed when I had to stir three heavy pots at once. My breathing changed from determined queen to hungry walrus within seconds. I mean, it was not a sight to behold when your crush was watching but yeah again, priorities.
I paused, hands on my hips, fighting for air.
Sir Alex approached behind me. "Need help?"
"I— wheeze— am— inhale— majestic— exhale— leave me— gasp—"
He simply took the ladle and stirred like it weighed nothing.
I squinted at his arms suspiciously. "Are you… part horse?"
Because he made it so effortless.
He laughed again. "Would you like to… sit down?"
"No," I said dramatically, "I flirt better standing."
I immediately regretted it when I had to lean against the table for balance, nearly falling into a pot.
But days weren't always perfect. Coffi accidentally dropped twice the amount of pepper in one batch, causing everyone in the kitchen to cough, cry, and see ancestors.
I declared it Battle Ketchup and stored it separately for future blackmail.
Sir Alex watched me chopping herbs and said, "You're very dedicated."
I fluttered my lashes — instant mistake — because bending over the table while breathing heavy made me sound like a horse about to give birth.
"Are… are you alright?" he asked, patting my back.
"Yes," I said, voice strained, "just… oxygen… playing hard to get."
He bit his lip to avoid laughing.
I arranged five jars on silver trays. My father entered reluctantly, curiously, and ten servants nervously like they were attending a possible poisoning.
Father dipped a spoon. Slowly. Savoring it.
His eyes widened. He inhaled slowly.
He looked… impressed.
"So?" I asked smugly.
"…it is… astonishing."
"Thank you," I said. "Please prepare space for my factory."
My father choked. "A what?!"
"A ketchup factory. I will employ villagers. Make trade routes. Taxes. Wealth. Legacy. I shall be—"
I pointed at myself dramatically:
THE KETCHUP QUEEN.
Sir Alex and one of his minions, clapped softly like he was admiring the insanity.
The next few days, Villagers lined up outside the kitchen demanding to be trained. I wore an apron like a military general and marched in front of them. (Thought thank the gods, by Coffi aunt's help I was able to purchase new dresses, shoes, make ups, because guess who had 100gold coins in exchange from the divine sword?)
"You are about to create history! If you complain, you will be assigned to onion duty and cry for real!"
They shouted, "Yes, Lady Seraphine!" like new army recruits.
Sir Alex leaned against a pillar, eyes full of amusement, whispering, "You're terrifying."
"Thank you," I curtsied… then nearly toppled because balance is not my strong suit. What was he even doing here?
By the seventh day, shelves were filled, the whole mansion smelled like gourmet dreams, and staff no longer feared me — they worshipped me.
Villagers already called the product:
Lady Sera's Tomato Miracle
I approved.
At dinner, I sat smugly beside my father. Sir Alex across me, staring with that amused interest that made my heart thump louder than my breathing.
Father sighed, defeated. "You are uncontrollable."
I smiled with full queen energy. "No father. I am unstoppable."
Sir Alex lifted his glass. "To Lady Seraphine… the woman who turned a cursed land into a business."
"And who might pass out climbing stairs," I added honestly.
Everyone laughed.
I did too…
…while gasping slightly for air.
*****
A few weeks later, Sir Alex returned with his men to the capital which made me sad but anyway, love can wait.
But with the help of my father's people and the rest of the kitchen staff. I finally did it. A space for my ketchup. It was not fancy, but yeah…it was okay. Wooden and clean. Not too big, not too small in a sense that the design was almost too modern in this realm's standards but passable.
I proudly named the space behind the mansion Chubby Factory, despite all dramatic protests from Chubby himself — the sentient, sarcastic, magically problematic little gremlin who pretended to be my tutor yet had the attitude of a spoiled pigeon.
"Why must everything be named after my glorious physique?" he snapped, arms crossed, floating two inches above my shoulder.
I turned to him slowly. "Because, sweetheart," I said sweetly, "you taught me nothing except how to make my migraine learn dark magic and you are cute."
He scoffed, flipping his nonexistent hair. "I taught you how to summon fire from the underworld! And I am not cute! I am a former high priest of this kingdom and a powerful wraith. I am nowhere near cute."
I rolled my eyes so hard, I saw my nonexistent boyfriend's death from suffocation, "And I taught you how to shut up using a divine pouch as motivation," I replied, patting the golden storage pouch strapped to my hip.
I think he rolled his eyes as well and floated back into my magical pouch on his own. Victory.