Princess Milabuella.
She was nothing like the story made her out to be.
No soft-spoken, ethereal female lead aura. No delicate kindness. She was covered in shiny jewels yet she looked beautiful in a way too shiny or whatever those fantasy writers made that doesn't made sense. Her hair so long, so yellow it hurts my eyes.
No angelic "I am the heart of the story" vibes.
Nope.
This one screamed villainess energy louder than any horror story I'd read in my life.
Brows sharp enough to slice through steel, eyes judgmental as if she could detect all my sins before I committed them, lips curved in a permanent "you dare" expression. She looked like she already knew everything. My arrival, my past, maybe even that horrible biceps river scene with Sir Alex that I tried desperately to forget.
She was seated perfectly, chin lifted, surrounded by nobles who fidgeted in nervous awe around her. And I knew immediately—this wasn't going to be easy.
I glanced quickly at Sir Alex. He was standing just slightly behind, posture impeccable, eyes trained on me, lips twitching like he wanted to say something… but he didn't. Good. Keep your composure, knight. Because I held myself not to wink for your sake.
I looked around more…
Then…someone who looked like my father, but bald. (I'm sorry but I'm not discriminating against those lovely brightnesses) I mean, it hurt my eyes just looking at his head. It was too oily, too shiny in a way that shines in the wrong way.
However, Duke Tyler's eyes—predictable villain—were locked on me too. Suspicious, calculating, dangerous. The kind of glare that said, I will find a reason to ruin you, girl, mark my words.
I swallowed a grin.
Oh, this was going to be fun. Just because I ignored his summons, his letters and communication scroll?
Boy, that was childish.
Anyway, I adjusted my dress, flipped my hair with a casual flick, and stepped closer to the dais.
"Yes, I am huge. Yes, I am here. And yes, your shampoo, soaps, and ketchup are all mine. You're welcome."
Not aloud. Just in my head.
The king cleared his throat. The council shuffled. Princess Milabuella's gaze sharpened like a blade ready to strike.
And somehow… somewhere deep in the corner of my mind, Chubby muttered: "This is going to be delicious."
I smiled. Yes. This was going to be delicious.
After three minutes of introduction yada-yada…
The high council cleared their throats like a thousand frogs trying to be intimidating.
And yes, they were very serious about it—especially my villain uncle, Duke Tyler. He had that calculating look, the one that screamed I'm going to find the tiniest mistake in your soul and exploit it to ruin you.
"Lady Seraphine," one councilor started, voice sharp like a dagger, "explain to us… how does your ketchup, soap and shampoo actually work? Some of our high mages have attempted replication for months."
I smiled faintly. "It's simple, really. Observation, trial, error, and persistence. I've read extensively since I was a child. I experimented—carefully—and refined every formula until it worked. That's it."
A ripple ran through the room. Shock. Disbelief.
Princess Milabuella's eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, fingers drumming impatiently. "Observation and reading?" she asked, voice laced with suspicion. "No magical enhancement at all? No enchantments, no mana infusion?"
"Nope," I said, my voice perfectly calm. "I don't have a mana circle. No magic. Purely science, knowledge, and patience. If you want magical results, I recommend the mage tower. But for human-scale solutions… this works. Shampoo, soap, conditioner—they clean, nourish, and leave hair manageable. Ketchup… well, it tastes great."
I gave a tiny shrug.
A tiny, sassy shrug.
The king's eyes glimmered with amusement—or perhaps admiration. He leaned back in his throne, letting me speak, letting me dominate the room in my own subtle way. I could almost hear him thinking, This one knows what she's doing.
Duke Tyler, of course, was not amused.
His hands clenched into fists under the table. His lips pressed so thin I was sure they might crack. He was plotting already, fingers twitching, calculating the perfect moment to humiliate me or twist the council against me.
"You claim… no magic," he said, voice low but dangerous. "Yet your products outperform what months of magical effort have failed to do. Tell me, Lady Seraphine—how do you expect the kingdom to take such… unsanctioned methods seriously?"
I arched my brow. "With respect, Duke Agro, maybe the kingdom should take results seriously, rather than worrying about whether I followed a centuries-old protocol. My methods work. The people use my products. That's the metric I care about. You can call it unsanctioned. I call it effective."
There was a pause.
Even some of the councilors blinked, caught off guard by my audacity.
Princess Milabuella tilted her head, jaw slightly tight. Her brows were like twin swords, slicing through my confidence—but honestly, I was thriving on that tension. I could feel her intrigue—or annoyance—growing. Maybe she hated me for my bluntness. Maybe she hated me because I was winning the room without even trying. Either way… it was delicious. Because girl, I'm not your enemy here.
Another councilor piped up. "And the ketchup, Lady Seraphine? Some of our nobles claim the taste is… unique. What ingredients give it such flavor?"
I leaned forward slightly, hands on the table. "Simple. Tomatoes. A blend of herbs. Careful cooking. Oh, and a little love," I added, with a soft smirk. "It's amazing what happens when you care about your product instead of just throwing magic at it."
Murmurs ran around the chamber. Some impressed, some furious. Duke Tyler's jaw twitched visibly. He was already muttering to himself about how to twist this, to sabotage my reputation, to… I don't know, probably summon a storm in my bathwater or something.
I smiled faintly.
Yes. I could feel it—the power of subtle dominance. My sass, my knowledge, my confidence—all working like an invisible sword across the table.
The king cleared his throat. "Lady Seraphine, continue. Tell us about the soaps and conditioners. How do you manage to nourish hair without magic? And what of your remedies for the ill?"
I straightened further, eyes sweeping the room. "With herbs, care, observation, and proper preparation. Healing potions, soaps, shampoos, even simple remedies—nothing magical, just knowledge applied correctly. And if anyone doubts me, Sir Alex, who stands by me, can attest that I have no magic circle and these are my results."
I caught Sir Alex's gaze.
The council exchanged uneasy glances.
And I?
I leaned back, a tiny smirk playing on my lips.
Yes. This was fun.
BUT THEY WERE NOT DONE YET.