Not that anyone else had to know.
My magical pouch had become a secret treasure trove: gold, newly invented products, late-night recipe notes, even detailed plotlines for things I intended to implement when the timing was right. All secrets and stash cookies for later blackmailing schemes.
All mine. Only CHUBBY knew, and maybe Coffi—but she wisely kept quiet, pretending ignorance every time she helped tidy my pouch tucked discreetly under my skirt.
Honestly, I suspected she enjoyed the little game as much as I did.
But the day-to-day was no less chaotic. I spent long hours with the carpenters, explaining the design of the new inns. Telling them about how we need to upgrade everything, from ceiling to heaters, using heartstones etc…
Modern touches, I insisted. Bathrooms inside each room, sinks, showers—even small touches that no one in this realm had seen before.
I made sketches, drew floor plans, marked the exact placement of doors and windows.
Some of the carpenters scratched their heads, muttering that it looked like "something out of a dream," but I didn't care.
I wanted these buildings functional, elegant, and revolutionary—because if I was going to reshape the town, I'd do it my way, not the way the realm had dictated for centuries.
Even when my body ached and my brain felt fried from endless instructions, I didn't stop. Midnight was my sacred time. And I think I've been losing some fats in the process.
That was when I brewed, wrote, and experimented. My hands smelled of herbs, oils, and sometimes… ketchup, which I swore added character.
Every new idea went into my books, every concoction tested secretly, every plan for the town carefully documented with the help of magic stones and the ever cutiepie Chubby.
My world was growing, sprawling, and alive—and it was mine, entirely mine.
I glanced over the construction again, noting the precision of the carpenters, the neat rows of tents, the buzz of new shops opening along the newly paved streets.
The town was waking up, and I was steering it, pulling every string. And while Sir Alex may have returned to court with reports, I didn't need recognition. I had something better: control, creativity, and CHUBBY whispering approvingly at my side, his shadowy form sliding silently behind me as if to say, You're doing well, mistress.
And damn it, I was.
Several weeks later and by the time the new inns were standing proud, the roads neatly paved, and the tents of the merchants waving in the warm sunlight, the town had transformed into something unrecognizable.
Alive. Vibrant. Full of smells, laughter, and chaos.
I stood in the middle of it all, hands on my hips, surveying my creation with a smirk because, let's be honest, even I was impressed.
The day of the grand "opening" was nothing short of theatrical. I had insisted on small celebrations, but somehow it had escalated into a full-blown festival.
Villagers from the surrounding cursed towns—yes, cursed, as if that mattered—had begun walking over to us, grateful and desperate.
They came with baskets clutched to their chests, aching feet carrying them over dusty paths, all eager for goods they could no longer produce in their villages.
Flour, rice, wheat, vegetables, fruits, even small healing concoctions that their own healers couldn't provide. And I didn't just sell; I gave.
Free samples of bread, fruits, corn from our first harvest, and my handmade healing medicines. Watching their tired, skeptical faces light up as a spoonful of herbal syrup eased their fever or a bite of freshly baked bread warmed them from the inside out… that, my dear CHUBBY, was worth more than any gold.
The merchants were in a frenzy too. Leonil's name had spread like wildfire, and his introduction of CHUBBY Shampoo and Soaps had set the noble circles into an absolute tizzy.
They came expecting bulk orders, ten, twenty, fifty bottles at a time. Oh, the shock when they realized my rule: no bulk buying.
Three bottles per person, max. Not negotiable.
The nobles were scandalized, I'm fairly certain some of them nearly fainted.
Guards whispered furiously to one another, ladies fumed, and yet, here they were—streaming into our western town, bright-eyed and practically tripping over the villagers, desperate to get their hands on my creations.
I watched from my post near the main square, arms crossed, my apron smudged with ketchup and herbs, a little sassy grin playing on my lips.
There was Sir Alex in the background, trying to look composed while probably recording the chaos in his mind to report later.
For days, I didn't care. My products were flying off the shelves, my town was thriving, and everyone—from the grateful villagers to the scandalized nobles—was under my influence.
A world where Lady Seraphine ran the show was a world full of this.
Everywhere I turned, there was movement. Villagers guided visitors to the inns, helped them navigate the narrow streets, offered free samples of food, and laughed at their own clumsiness.
Children chased one another along the cobblestone paths, dodging merchants balancing baskets of fruit and herbs, while nobles tried, and failed, to navigate without ruining their silk garments.
And in the midst of it all, I was a whirlwind of instructions and charm, directing carpenters, merchants, and even a few hesitant nobles who looked like they'd never seen a "modern bathroom" before.
The temporary tents were bursting with traders eager to sell everything from fresh vegetables to handmade trinkets.
I even set up a little station where I demonstrated my soaps and shampoo, letting people try them for free.
The reactions were priceless—faces lighting up as the scent hit them, murmurs of "incredible" and "unlike anything in the capital" drifting across the square.
CHUBBY hovered behind me, sometimes in cat or dog form, sometimes just a little sass blob with tiny shadowy arms folded in approval, clearly enjoying the spectacle almost as much as I did.
By mid-afternoon, the town had become a hub of commerce and celebration. Music and laughter echoed through the streets as villagers danced around market stalls, merchants shouted their prices with exaggerated flair, and even the nobles, initially stiff with indignation, found themselves caught up in the contagious energy.
Some of them—much to my quiet amusement—sent their maids and guards to buy goods on their behalf, gawking as they realized just how busy and lively the western town had become.
Their shock and awe was palpable, and I made sure to meet each gaze with a sly grin. Yes, this is what hard work, planning, and a little Lady Seraphine flair can do.
By sunset, the day felt like a dream: streets alive, townspeople happy, merchants ecstatic, nobles scandalized but entertained, and me?
I was exhausted, exhilarated, and just a little smug.
Sitting on the steps of one of the new inns, CHUBBY curled around my ankle, I let the sounds wash over me. This town, my town, was no longer just a sleepy western outpost—it was a thriving hub of magic, commerce, and chaos, all running exactly how I wanted.
And in that moment, as laughter rang out and the smell of fresh bread mingled with the scent of herbs and my very own CHUBBY creations, I realized something: for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, I was truly happy.
Because this—this chaos, this laughter, this town alive under my control—was mine.