Seraphine POV
The next morning.
The day I dreaded the most.
My maid, Coffi woke me up at dawn.
Dear gods, who the hell invented waking up early in the morning? I need to murder someone!
I'm a lazy person on Earth. I'm a lazy person in this realm. The concept of rising before the sun should be outlawed, but apparently, the capital has laws about punctuality that involve "risking your head" if you don't comply. Wonderful.
So there I was, half-asleep, hair a mess, pajamas clinging to me like desperate spiders, as Coffi muttered sharp instructions: brush your teeth, dress, do your hair, don't make a scene, don't insult anyone, don't accidentally set something on fire. Small steps. Easy. Ordered Chubby to stay inside the pouch at all times.
Today was the day.
The day I would stand in front of the king.
The council.
High mages who could probably read my thoughts if I sneezed wrong.
Priests.
Nobles who looked like they were carved from marble.
And Princess Milabuella. The female lead of this entire story.
I suppose this wasn't in the prologue or chapter one, so I wasn't actually doing anything that would change the plot. That was reassuring. My conscience was clear. For once, I could swagger into the court without worrying that I'd accidentally end the entire story.
Two hours later, my hair was done, the dress—well, technically done—makeup applied just enough to look awake, and breakfast had been consumed under Leonil's watchful eye. He had the nerve to lecture me while I sipped my tea, telling me that the Mage Tower was probably going to grill me on my products, my knowledge, and maybe even my moral alignment.
Please. I'd survived bandits, endless camping nights, a demonic shadow companion, and a week-long carriage ride where Chubby insulted my bathing skills at every turn. I could handle a room full of pompous mages.
I resolved, with my usual diplomatic brilliance, to hold my sass. Maybe. But if anyone asked for it… well, a little flair never hurt. I was confident. Not cocky, just… prepared.
And of course, there was the matter of my villainous uncle, Duke Tyler Agro. Oh, he'd be there. Most trusted ally of the king, master of betrayal, and probably sharpening his claws to humiliate me in front of everyone because I ignored his letters and message scrolls. Fine. Let him try. I wasn't a monster; I wouldn't ruin the plot. I wasn't that irresponsible.
Finally, the carriage rolled up to the palace.
And… wow.
Unlike the dreary, medieval, "meh" entrance of the capital, the palace was divine. I mean, divine. Gates taller than any I'd seen, wrought iron filigree that looked like it had been kissed by actual gods, and gold inlays shimmering faintly even in the soft morning light. The walls weren't just stone—they were marbled, polished to a perfection that screamed I have money and you don't.
Huge banners flapped majestically, each embroidered with threads so fine they probably made lesser nobles weep in envy.
Guards stood at attention with armor that gleamed, polished to the point where you could probably shave your legs on it if desperate enough. Fountains bubbled, birds sang in perfect harmony, and the walkways were so clean you could eat off them—which, honestly, I considered. I was starving after my early morning wake-up.
Even the horses in the stables looked like they belonged in a painting: coats glossy, hooves sparkling, eyes practically sparkling with magic. My own poor carriage horses suddenly felt like peasants. I raised an eyebrow at Coffi.
"This is… excessive."
She gave a curt nod, clearly trying not to drool. "Yes, my lady."
"Excessive," I repeated, letting the word linger, savoring it like a forbidden dessert. "And somehow… boring. All this grandeur, all this gold, and yet… none of it smells like life. Where are the smells of bread? Of roasting meat? Fresh flowers? Healthy trees and birds? The laughter, the chaos? The real magic?"
Coffi tutted. "This is… royal decorum, my lady."
"Royal decorum," I muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm, "is code for 'everything is shiny and dead.' I miss home already."
The carriage slowed at the main entrance. Massive doors swung open on bronze hinges that moaned like ancient spirits. As the footmen and guards lined up to escort me, I straightened my back, took a deep breath, and prepared to step into a world that smelled of perfume, wealth, and far too much wax polish.
Yes. Today I will meet the king. The princess. The council. And maybe, if I was lucky, not faint from boredom.
Or terror.
Probably both.
And…
The moment I stepped into the council chamber, the entire room… went silent.
I mean literally. Conversations died mid-word, pens hovered in the air, and even the guards looked like they were about to tiptoe backwards out of the room. I could practically hear the collective thought: "Wait… she's huge. And… she looks like she could crush me with one hand?"
I took a deep breath, shoulders back, and strutted in like I owned at least half the furniture. Which, honestly, in terms of sheer impact on the kingdom, I probably did.
They were expecting someone delicate, polite, maybe timid. A girl who counted gold with shaky hands, who probably fainted at a whiff of hot oil, who would carefully sprinkle herbs over her potions while humming a lullaby.
And here I was.
Tall. Bold. Confident. Slightly wild-looking. Clothes crisp, hair shining, makeup minimal but effective. Shoes polished enough to see a reflection. And let's be real… Chubby, hidden in my magical pouch, probably making mental notes of every foolish thought in the room.
I did not care.
Envy? Let them choke on it.
Anger? Fine. I like drama.
Questionable diet habits? Honestly, watching nobles pour ketchup over their meat made me silently judge, but only for a second. They could eat like that. Not my problem.
The king, however, was something else.
He didn't flinch. He didn't whisper. He didn't squint. He looked at me like I could singlehandedly save the kingdom from an invincible dragon, or maybe even death itself, while juggling a tray of pastries and rewriting the laws of magic on the side.
Yes. That.
I straightened, gave a subtle nod, and walked further in, ignoring the murmur of the council members and the squeaky chairs behind me. I was here, they were here, and I was clearly the one in control of the narrative.
And then… my eyes landed on her.
Princess Milabuella.
The female lead.