Seraphine POV
A few months had passed since my father's territory began to flourish under my… guidance, and let me tell you, the change was nothing short of spectacular.
It was amazing…...
I stood atop the balcony of the newest inn, arms crossed, watching the town hum with life like a carefully orchestrated symphony. My chest swelled with satisfaction—not modestly, but with that smug, uncontainable pride that comes from knowing every brick, every road, every magical detail was mine.
The modern-style inns were now the pride of the region.
Each building gleamed under the sunlight, facades polished and painted in warm tones, interiors filled with running water, functioning sinks, showers, even rudimentary plumbing the realm had never seen before.
Travelers gawked, nobles whispered, and merchants from faraway towns arrived with carts brimming with curiosity and goods.
The roads were lined with hearthstones from the mines, carefully infused with stabilizing magic that warmed the streets and resisted erosion, while street lamps twinkled with mana stones that glowed gently at night.
Honestly, I think some of the capitals' nobles might've been a little embarrassed by how… quaint their own streets looked in comparison.
Shops were bustling, each designed not just for utility but for elegance.
The markets were organized with clear aisles, proper storage, and magical wards that preserved fresh produce longer than anyone expected.
Herbs, fruits, vegetables, even exotic goods from distant lands—all neatly displayed, easily accessed, and magically protected from spoilage. Some of the merchants still complained about how organized I was, but they loved it. Chaos was fun, but profitable chaos? Even better.
And then there was the matter of the potions. At first, I had insisted that Madam Florence, the town's lead healer, keep the formulas secret. "When someone asks," I had told her, "you perfected it. You're the face of this miracle. Do not credit me. I do not need the kingdom to know I meddle in herbs from unknown sources."
The potions themselves were revolutionary—flu remedies, stomach aids, healing lotions for wounds—but in truth, the real magic was subtle.
I had added antibiotics herbs known on Earth, infused with mana from heartstones, something frowned upon in this realm as "unnatural" but devastatingly effective.
I watched Florence beam as villagers recovered faster than ever before, praise heaped on her while I quietly smirked.
And yes, my little magical pouch stored some of the secret ingredients.
Even the healer's clinic had been transformed. Three separate wings now handled different ailments—flu, digestive issues, wound care—with waiting areas that were bright, ventilated, and pleasant.
Shelves were lined with potions, lotions, and carefully labeled remedies. People traveled from far-off villages just to access them.
Some brought crops, seeds, or other barter items in exchange, and I ensured the town's wealth circulated rather than stagnated.
The farms themselves had been expanded, terraced, and enhanced with minor mana-infused irrigation channels.
Crops thrived, seeds from neighboring villages were carefully planted, and the villagers learned new techniques I had taught—or, rather, Chubby had taught while I took credit in public.
Yes, the wraiths in some of the nearby mines had tried to resist our expansion, but I let CHUBBY handle them in his usual terrifyingly effective way.
A few shrieks, a little shadow menace, and the wraiths either submitted or risked being reduced to dust. Villagers whispered of protective spirits in the mines, never suspecting the truth.
Houses had been upgraded too. Where once they had been cramped and poorly insulated, now they were bright, airy, and structurally sound, with basic plumbing where possible and small hearthstones to keep warmth during cold nights.
Roads connected everything with a logic that made sense for both merchants and townsfolk.
Public spaces were decorated with charming small gardens, cute fountains, and benches that glowed faintly with mana light at night—turning the town into this Pinterest-worthy fantasy village that honestly looked a little too modern for a medieval realm.
Even I couldn't help it.
"Why does this look like a mall walkway?" I muttered under my breath. "Next thing you know, someone's going to open a milk tea shop called MageTea."
Of course, I didn't tell the others. The last thing I needed was them asking what a mall was, and me having to explain escalators and food courts.
The villagers weren't just surviving anymore—they were thriving.
Children ran freely through the streets, laughing, chasing wooden carts, pretending sticks were legendary swords. Every time they spotted me, they'd screech, "Teacher! Teacher! Tell story!"
I tried to act modest, but deep inside?
Yes.
Feed my ego.
So I gathered them beneath a big mana lamp-tree and taught them the alphabet of the realm.
"Alright, kids. This is the letter 'A'. A is for apple. Or… anger, which you caused me last time."
They giggled.
"And this is the letter 'B'. B is for behave—which I know you won't do."
One girl raised her hand. "Teacher, what is 'Cinderella'?"
Ah. My moment.
So I told them.
I told them about Cinderella, the fairy godmother, the pumpkin carriage, the ugly stepsisters.
And as usual—the elders, who originally pretended they were "just passing by," slowly circled us like gossip-loving vultures.
One elder finally interrupted.
"Wait—wait—wait. She was late to the banquet because she had chores? Hah! The only reason I was late to banquets was because I fell asleep after drinking too much barley wine!"
The children gasped.
The other elders nodded solemnly.
Coffi facepalmed behind them.
Another elder pointed at me with her cane.
"You tell that girl Cinderella that next time, she should run that prince over with the pumpkin carriage. Make him chase her."
"Grandma, no!" a kid screamed.
"Yes!" Grandma insisted. "These princes—these princes must suffer a little."
I turned to the kids.
"A valuable moral lesson: don't let princes get too comfortable."
Trade was booming too. Merchants whispered eagerly about new deals like they were discussing scandalous secrets.
One merchant pulled me aside.
"My lady, is it true you discovered a faster trade route?"
"No," I said. "Chubby, spirit animal ate the monster blocking the road."
Chubby, puffing his tiny chest, nodded proudly. "I snack for the economy."
Nearby villages were recovering nicely as well.
They came bringing baskets of crops, seeds, herbs, anything they could barter. We helped where we could. Sometimes I even visited personally to clear minor curses—
…though let's be honest.
Half the time the curses weren't dangerous, they were just stubborn and dramatic.
Like one spirit that refused to leave a cornfield.
It wailed, "THIS IS MY CORN! MINE! MY HOME!"
I sighed. "Sir, it's a cornfield, not a condo unit."
Then Chubby waddled beside me, stared the ghost down, and said with absolute authority:
"Boo."
The spirit shrieked and evaporated like mist.
Villagers stared in awe. "My lady! Such power!"
And Chubby whispered loudly to me, "I did NOTHING. He just ugly."
Whenever I walked through the market, people greeted me with more confidence now.
"My lady! Blessings to your health!"
"My lady! Want fresh bread? I'll give you two for the price of one!"
"My lady, my grandson refuses to bathe—can you curse him a little?"
"I AM NOT A HYGIENE WITCH," I protested.
But the grandma glared so intensely I ended up tapping him lightly with my staff. "Be cursed with… cleanliness."
He immediately ran to the river screaming.
Mission accomplished.