SIR CANVA POV
The next morning.
The Duke did not frighten easily.
I know he'd survived wars, famine, political coups, assassination attempts, and—if rumors were true—one extremely pissed-off goose back when he was thirteen.
But right now?
He looked terrified. Quietly. Softly. The kind of terrified a father gets when he realizes: "My daughter might be the most dangerous economic force this kingdom has ever produced."
We sat inside his old office—a room that smelled like it should be dusty and full of political regrets, but instead smelled like fresh flowers, thanks to the breeze drifting in from the garden.
The window was wide open.
Sunlight spilled in.
Outside, Lady Seraphine was crouched beside a servant girl, examining herbs like she was choosing diamonds.
Her chubby cheeks puffed with excitement. Chubby, the small creature was seated on her shoulder.
Her hair shimmered with that damned divine shine.
And her laugh—gods—her laugh bounced across the garden like magic.
Terrifying. Truly terrifying.
Not because of romance.
No.
Because of industry.
And…
Beyond the garden gates, just outside the mansion, the new Chubby Shop was being decorated.
Banners. Her servants were busy. Too busy to even pretend.
Ribbons. They were everywhere.
Colorful clothes.
And a queue—already forming—even though the shop wouldn't open for another two hours. People were excited, smiling, laughing and talking about how amazing Lady Seraphine was.
Villagers lined up holding baskets: aloe vera, coconut oil, lavender mint and random herbs I'd never heard of, even flowers Seraphine said she "might experiment with".
"Your daughter," I said carefully, watching the line grow, "has created a movement."
The Duke closed his eyes for a long moment. "She has created… chaos," he muttered.
Papers were spread across his desk: profit projection worker lists, farming expansion plans, a letter from Merchant Lionel begging for more shipment, a very aggressive letter from the Magic Tower demanding to know the ketchup formula, a complaint from the High Priest accusing Seraphine of 'economic witchcraft'
I rubbed my temple.
"She isn't even magical," I reminded. "She has no mana circle."
The Duke's eye twitched. "And yet," he said, "she is producing more miracles than the Magic Tower and the Holy Chapel combined."
He had a point.
We were a kingdom of mages and priests.
And here was a girl—supposedly frail, sickly, no mana—who had: ended famine in the west, revived the mining industry, created jobs for nearly the entire territory, produced a sauce that had nobles fighting in line, invented hair-changing shampoo turned, turned aloe vera into a precious resource and now was about to launch the scented soap empire
If she ever decided to lead a rebellion, half the kingdom would follow her out of gratitude alone.
That was… terrifying.
The duke rubbed his face, shoulders stiff.
"Sir Canva," he said quietly, "I have commanded armies. I have faced demons. But nothing—NOTHING—has prepared me for a daughter who can create a riot over tomato sauce."
I tried not to laugh.
Failed.
Coughed to cover it.
"Your Grace, this is good for the kingdom," I said. "We need innovation. We need trade. We need… hope."
The duke stared at me. "Hope," he echoed. "My daughter is becoming the hope of the people."
"That's a good thing."
"It is also extremely worrying."
"Why?"
He leaned closer, whispering like he feared the potted plants might report him to Seraphine:
"Because if she decides to make a new product every week… we will not survive the chaos."
Valid.
I straightened, clearing my throat.
"The king asked me to observe everything," I said. "He's deeply concerned about the famine in other regions. He needs this knowledge—this advancement. The Magic Tower wants her secrets. The priests are demanding answers."
The Duke's gaze hardened.
"They will not touch her."
"I swear by my honor, Your Grace, I won't allow it."
The duke nodded slowly. "Good. Because I have only one daughter. And she has suffered enough."
My chest tightened at his tone.
Outside, Seraphine squealed excitedly as one of the maids braided her hair with lavender blossoms. The entire staff fussed around her like she was both royalty and a ticking bomb of innovation.
And maybe she was.
WATCHING HER FROM THE WINDOW
She laughed again.
A bright, warm sound.
She held up a handful of aloe leaves proudly, like she'd found treasure.
Her dress fluttered.
Her hair shimmered.
Her cheeks were rosy.
She was… radiant.
And while the duke feared her power—
I feared something else entirely.
That magnetic pull again.
That strange warmth she carried.
That way she made even useless plants seem like legendary artifacts.
The kingdom didn't just need her products.
It needed her.
And gods help us...I was beginning to understand why. She has something that no one has in the entire kingdom.
Knowledge.
******
SERAPHINE POV
Two hours.
Just two hours before the grand opening of the glorious, majestic, civilization-changing CHUBBY SHOP.
Coffi and her aunt were already in battle mode, stationed at the front like elite generals. Ten mansion staff stood behind them, clutching sample baskets, scroll lists, and clipboards like this was the beginning of a new dynasty.
And honestly?
It was.
The villagers lined up before dawn, weaving around the path, through the garden, past the old oak tree, and halfway toward the river. The buzz of excitement was delicious—like the sweet scent of money mixed with aloe vera.
I was sipping tea on the veranda, enjoying my pre-queen moment, when—
Five noble carriages rolled in like they owned the place.
Five.
FIVE.
Beautifully carved, gold-trimmed, ego-filled wagons of entitlement.
I blinked.
Coffi blinked.
Even the wind did a dramatic pause.
Coffi came sprinting toward me so fast her apron nearly became airborne.
"My Lady! My Lady! Did you see those carriages?! They're from the five noble houses near the western border—they're here to BUY your products!"
I lifted a brow, unbothered, sipping tea like a villainess in disguise.
"Tell them to line up," I said. "No special treatment. The villagers were here since dawn. Nobles can wait like everyone else."
Coffi nodded like she'd just been given holy commandments and sprinted toward the mansion gates.
Before she even reached the shop, however—
I heard shouting. Then yelling. Then the unmistakable sound of noble-screech outrage.
Chubby appeared over my shoulder like a worried demon-chihuahua.
"My Lady," he hissed, "someone used magic in the shop. I smelled it. Possibly detect spells. Possibly illusions. Possibly…"
He narrowed his eyes dramatically. "…a noble trying to cheat the line."
I gasped so hard my tea almost spilled. "Unacceptable."
"I shall investigate," Chubby declared.
And then he vanished into the shadows like a morally flexible Batman.