THEN IT WAS FOLLOWED BY A COMMOTION.
So, of course, I waddled—no, walked gracefully—toward the shop.
With dignity. And a very slow pace. Because I was fat, not a sprinter, and the sun was hitting like a personal attack.
I'd lost three kilos since arriving here, which was HUGE, but I was still built like a soft, luxurious marshmallow queen.
As I approached, I heard:
"Do you know who I am?!"
"How dare these commoners stand before ME—!"
"I should not be expected to queue!"
"This peasant touched my robe!"
"CHUBBY SHAMPOO IS MINE FIRST—!"
And then—
THUNDERING HOOVES.
Sir Alex Canva. Charging in like a hero from a romance cover.
Horse galloping. Huge biceps of course.
Cape fluttering. Jaw clenched. Abs probably activated under his armor.
Five of his knights followed, swords ready, coats snapping in the wind.
A dramatic entrance if I'd ever seen one.
"OHHHHHH," I whispered, fanning myself.
"This smells delicious. Chaos AND abs?"
A chef's kiss.
Sir Alex leaped from his horse before it even fully stopped, landing like he practiced dramatic hero landings in his free time.
He and his men stormed toward the arguing nobles.
I would've run to see this up close, truly—but I physically could not.
So I walked like a princess.
Gracefully.
Majestically.
While wheezing like a tired goat. But! With dignity. Always dignity.
By the time I neared the gate, the nobles were surrounded, villagers were cheering, and Sir Alex had already drawn his sword—
And I thought: Oh, yes. This is going to be GOOD.
By the time my royal marshmallow body completed its dramatic, breath-stealing walk to the CHUBBY SHOP gate, the scene before me was…
chef's-kiss perfection.
The nobles—those five highborn, perfumed, entitled peacocks—were cowering.
Not standing.
Not complaining.
Not even pretending to be brave.
Nope.
Cowering.
Pressed up against their carriages like decorative stickers, trembling, clutching embroidered handkerchiefs like the world betrayed them.
And the reason?
Sir Alex Canva.
Who currently stood in front of them with his sword drawn just enough to send a message:
"Act up and get sliced."
His knights formed a neat, intimidating line behind him.
The villagers, meanwhile, watched with their arms crossed, whispers flying around like gossip arrows.
One noble screeched, "A knight threatened me!"
A villager replied loudly, "You threatened to buy the entire stock and skip the line! Who's the villain here?!"
Another villager chimed in, "Aye! We've been waiting since dawn! Even my hemorrhoids have hemorrhoids!"
I almost choked.
Sir Alex's jaw ticked as he turned to the nobles.
"By order of the kingdom," he said in that deep voice that definitely made someone's ovaries faint, "harassment of civilians is a punishable offense. You were told to line up like everyone else."
"But—but—we are nobility!" the tallest noble whined.
"And?" Alex stared at him like he'd just confessed to eating dirt.
"And we should not have to— to— mingle with commoners!" he squeaked.
Sir Alex stepped closer.
One step.
Just one.
The noble screamed like a dying chicken and lifted his hands in surrender.
The villagers burst into laughter.
Coffi was wheezing.
Even Chubby popped out of a shadow behind me whispering,
"Pathetic. I've seen stronger spines on wet paper."
I snorted loud enough that the nearest knight flinched.
BUT!
THE BEST PART?
Noble House #2—Lady Something-the-Third—was actually crying.
Real tears.
"I just… I just wanted the shampoo…" she sobbed dramatically.
"My hair is coarse! It looks like tragic broom bristles! Please, Sir Knight, have mercy!"
Alex dragged a palm down his face. "My lady," he said through clenched teeth, "all you need to do is wait in line."
"But it's so LOOOONG!"
From somewhere in the back of the crowd, a villager yelled:
"THE LINE IS SHORTER THAN YOUR ENTITLEMENT!"
The cheers were deafening.
I nearly collapsed from joy.
And... maybe hundreds of seconds later.
Finally, everyone noticed me. Not dramatically—more like suddenly realizing a pink elephant in a tiara had waddled into the scene.
"My Lady Seraphine!" the villagers greeted, bowing.
"Lady Seraphine!" the knights bowed.
"LADY SERAPHINE—!" shrieked a noble, trying to hide her obvious guilt.
I lifted my hand in a regal wave. "Good morning," I said sweetly. "I heard chaos?"
Sir Alex turned to me, relief flashing in his eyes like "oh thank the gods she's here, please take responsibility for your products before I commit noble homicide."
"My Lady," he said with a bow, "these nobles attempted to cut the line, use magic to influence the crowd, and intimidate your people."
I smiled.
Very sweetly. "Oh? And did they succeed?"
The nobles shook their heads violently.
"N-no—!"
"W-we love lines! We adore lines!"
"Lines are tradition!"
One whisper-screamed: "Someone help me, I'm dying inside—"
I nodded approvingly. "Good. Because in my territory, whether noble or commoner—you follow the rules. Or the rules follow you."
Chubby whispered, "Threatening. I like it."
Alex looked at me with something suspiciously close to admiration.
Or fear.
Or both.
Probably both.
Then, I clapped my hands. "Okay, so, everyone! Let's resume peacefully. The CHUBBY SHOP opens in one hour. Nobles? Please join the back of the line."
The nobles, utterly defeated, obeyed with the energy of sad puppies.
One even whispered: "By the gods… that fat girl is terrifying…"
Chubby cackled.
I winked.
Sir Alex… he just stared at me.
Long enough that Coffi whispered, "Oh my Lady… he's staring like you're the last slice of cake at a feast."
And me?
I simply adjusted my dress, lifted my chin, and walked forward like the future business empress I was.
Let the kingdom tremble. The era of CHUBBY had begun.