Chapter 20 THE END: Destiny, Fire, and a Crown of Chaos

Morning sunlight streamed through the old wooden windows like a nosy neighbor, catching every fleck of dust in the air. The faint smell of toast and slightly burned tea leaves drifted from the kitchen, wrapping the house in a lazy, homely scent that usually promised a quiet morning. But today the air was heavy—charged with questions that no amount of tea could soften.

Lucy and Lily sat side by side at the dining table, armored boots gleaming far too brightly for breakfast. The sisters looked like they had marched straight from the pages of Medieval Knight Weekly, every buckle and strap perfectly in place. They might have fooled anyone else into believing it was an ordinary morning. Not their parents.

Their father and mother stood across from them like two hawks sizing up a suspicious pair of mice. Father’s thick mustache twitched with a life of its own, curling at the edges as his jaw tightened. Mother’s arms were crossed so tightly across her chest that the seams of her sleeves threatened rebellion. The fire in their eyes said everything before their voices did.

“Why are you always with that weird guy?” Father’s voice boomed through the quiet room, cutting through the scent of toast like a sword through parchment. “You’re even staying at his house now?”

Mother narrowed her eyes, her voice as sharp as the edge of Lucy’s blade. “Yes. At first we did not mind. But now you’re all staying there? Even the queen too? What’s going on?”

Lucy raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, the polished metal of her gauntlets catching the morning light. “I know, Mom, Dad—you’re concerned. But let me explain. He is not any ordinary boy…”

Father’s mustache twitched harder. “Not any ordinary boy,” he echoed under his breath, each word dripping with suspicion.

Lily leaned forward, her brown eyes sparkling as if she’d been waiting for this interrogation all morning. “Yes, first listen to the whole story.”

And so the sisters began. Their voices wove the kind of tale that might normally be heard from rowdy adventurers around a tavern table—minus the ale, but with all the dramatic flair. They spoke of the mysterious car that had rolled into their world from nowhere, of a night when moonfish exploded like fireworks over the lake (to Mother’s visible disbelief), and the ridiculous day when an evil duke’s prized roses were turned into singing vegetables. The story danced between comedy and danger, their words painting every bizarre detail.

By the time they were done, Father’s mustache had curled so tightly it looked ready to leap off his face and join the nearest traveling circus.

Mother finally exhaled a long, weary sigh. “So that’s why you’re all staying there?”

Lucy sat up straighter, her posture as sharp as a knight’s salute. “Yes. Even though I am the number one knight of the kingdom, I am no match for him. If he became our enemy, the whole country would be doomed.” She hesitated, then her voice softened to a whisper barely louder than the creak of the floorboards. “Also… we already kissed once.”

Father blinked. Mother’s eyebrows climbed higher than the rafters.

Lily’s head whipped around like a startled cat. “That was to save you, dumbass sis!” she snapped, her cheeks flushed crimson. “And I am also pursuing him. I am still the first member of his harem. Also, without his appliances I cannot even imagine continuing my experiments.”

Father’s mug hit the table with a sharp thud, the sound ringing like a war drum. “That’s why the queen is also there? Is the queen supplying him with gadgets?”

Lily flapped her hands so quickly her braids nearly took flight. “Nai, nai! She is even more pursuing and seducing him to marry. But I won’t give up. Erik is mine!”

Lucy crossed her arms and shot her sister a sideways glare. “Our.”

Father scratched his beard slowly, the bristle of it rasping like dry leaves. His sternness softened, a reluctant acceptance flickering behind his eyes. “Then we won’t stop you,” he said at last, each word heavy with the weight of reluctant trust. “If the queen herself and the duke and Kiara are also there, it means he is… something.”

Mother leaned forward, curiosity replacing suspicion. “Yes. I also heard he solved many mysteries and has a mysterious car as well.”

Lucy allowed herself a rare, gentle smile—one so warm it could melt the heart of even the grumpiest palace guard. “True. He is a gem of my life.”

Lily, never one to be outdone, straightened proudly in her chair, eyes shining with bold certainty. “Yes. In this world, he is the best.”

The room fell quiet at last. Morning light stretched across the wooden floorboards, bathing the family in a soft glow. For a moment, the earlier tension gave way to something unspoken—a fragile understanding. The parents’ eyes still held worry, but beneath it flickered respect for their daughters’ resolve. The sisters, unflinching and united even in rivalry, had spoken their truth. Whatever adventures lay ahead with the mysterious Erik, their family now knew: Lucy and Lily had chosen their path, and nothing—not royal politics, not dangerous mysteries, not even parental disapproval—would turn them back.

**BACK TO CURRENT TIME**

When the light finally returned, it wasn’t the gentle golden glow of morning sunshine sneaking through an old wooden window. No, it was a sickly, otherworldly illumination—like moonlight that had been pickled in swamp water and poured back into the world.

I now stood inside a cavernous hall that looked like it had been carved straight from the bones of some ancient, long-dead giant. Its arched ceiling stretched so high above that my breath caught just trying to track its lines. The walls glistened with dampness, every stone sweating as if the mountain itself were nervous. Eerie green flames flickered in iron sconces, their glow casting restless shadows that twisted and writhed like creatures trying to escape their own darkness.

The air was so cold it stabbed. My breath came out in tiny white clouds, each exhale like a fragile ghost that barely survived a second. The scent of damp stone and something older—something like the dust of forgotten grudges—wrapped around me like a clammy, wet blanket.

I wasn’t alone.

Ahead, four figures waited in a loose semicircle. Four brothers. Their silhouettes were unmistakable even before the flames betrayed the crimson gleam of their eyes. That glow wasn’t natural. It pulsed—slow, deliberate—like the heartbeat of something that had crawled out of the deepest nightmare and decided to stay. Black mist coiled around each of them, moving with a mind of its own. It didn’t swirl aimlessly; it watched.

Every instinct in me, the ones that had kept me alive through brawls, back-alley deals, and more than one questionable interdimensional mishap, screamed one unified message: bad news.

Behind me came a small scuffle of feet and a soft gasp. The girls—yes, all four of them—were clustered together like startled deer. And next to them, one terrified father whose entire expression said, I clearly took a wrong turn at the local tavern and somehow ended up in a nightmare audition for a horror opera. His knuckles were white where they gripped his own sleeves.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Four demonic brothers glowing like unholy Christmas lights and exuding evil spirits thicker than winter fog—and my backup squad? A romantic comedy cast and one panicking dad who looked ready to faint if someone sneezed.

“Great,” I thought dryly. “Four embodiments of hell, and my A-team is a mix of sitcom side characters and an honorary meltdown champion. Fantastic odds, Erik. Truly heroic.”

My fingers itched toward the familiar, comforting weight of my AK-47 slung across my back. Yes, the very same piece of military hardware I had, through a combination of luck, cunning, and outright narrative absurdity, smuggled into this medieval-magic circus of a world. Don’t ask how. Long story. Involving a distracted customs officer and a goat.

But even as my hand brushed the strap, a sharp knot tightened in my stomach. The idea of actually pulling the trigger—of cutting down these four in a hail of bullets—twisted my gut. Maybe they deserved it. Their aura of malice screamed “unrepentant villain.” But their deaths would trigger something far worse than nightmares.

Because if these brothers fell, the queen’s already-fragile alliance with the dukedom would shatter faster than my patience at a bad karaoke night. Political fallout, economic collapse, and—oh yes—the royal council would absolutely have my head on a silver platter. Imagine explaining that to a room full of nobles whose idea of diplomacy involved poisoned wine and strategic stabbing.

So, no. As much as my trigger finger longed for action, my brain hissed back a single, reluctant command: Don’t.

I exhaled, whispering under my breath, “Okay. No headshots today. Great plan, Erik. Really heroic.”

The brothers began to spread out, slow and deliberate, their boots striking the stone floor in perfect unison. Each footstep echoed like death itself politely knocking on the door and waiting to be invited in.

And then—before I could calculate a Plan B that didn’t end with me becoming a decorative smear on the wall—a blur of silver cut through my peripheral vision.

Lucy.

She stepped in front of me like a streak of moonlight made solid. Her sword, drawn with a sound like a note of pure defiance, gleamed as it caught the ghostly green flames. Her face—usually a picture of gentle mischief—had hardened into something that could have been carved from the same stone as the hall.

“Whatever happens,” she said, her voice steady and fierce as a knight’s oath, “we will protect you, Erik.”

I blinked. Was this the same Lucy who once screamed at a spider the size of a grape?

Right beside her, Lily twirled her own blade with the kind of reckless confidence only a younger sister could pull off. Her eyes flashed with the reckless energy of someone who thinks strategy is just a fancy word for “hit it harder.”

“Yes,” Lily said, chin lifting. “I’m with Lucy.”

Before my mind could fully process this sudden heroic upgrade, Urara—sweet, soft-spoken Urara, whose greatest brush with danger was forgetting to water her houseplants—strode forward. Her usual timid expression had been replaced by a fire that could have lit the hall without the eerie flames.

“Me too,” she said, her voice carrying a quiet steel. “You are my savior. I cannot let you die here.”

And then, because apparently today was audition day for the role of “Erik’s bodyguard,” the queen herself moved ahead. Her royal gown shimmered as the green light kissed every fold, turning silk into molten emerald.

“You are all my responsibility,” she declared. Her voice rang through the hall like a war bell, sharp enough to cut through fear itself. Then, with a smirk that could melt the polar caps, she added, “And you are my husband. Future husband, Erik. I will protect you all.”

I felt every blood vessel in my body consider spontaneous combustion. Did she just—? No. Not the time. Absolutely not the time. But still—future husband? In front of everyone?

Somewhere behind me, Father made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a cross between a cough and a disapproving sermon.

Before my mind could spiral further into that particular rabbit hole, a slow, deliberate clap echoed from the darkness.

Adam—the eldest brother, his grin sharp enough to cut stone—stepped forward. The green flames caught the sharp planes of his face, and for a heartbeat he looked less like a man and more like a sculpture of pure menace.

“It’s all late now…” His voice carried the coldness of an open grave.

And then, in perfect synchronization, the brothers reached into their cloaks.

They pulled out fistfuls of jade stones.

Each gem pulsed with a sickly, otherworldly light, like someone had captured the essence of nightmares and trapped it in crystalline form. The stones hummed—a sound just barely on the edge of hearing, a vibration that made my teeth ache and the hairs on my arms stand at rigid attention.

The air thickened, heavy as wet cement. Sparks of magic began to crawl across the floor, scorching the ancient stone into intricate, unsettling patterns. My teeth buzzed as if every atom in the room were vibrating in silent panic.

So that’s their condition, I realized, my eyes narrowing. These jade stones… they’re the source of their power.

Behind me, Father whispered hoarsely, his voice the cracked reed of a man who had just realized he’d forgotten to update his will. “We’re all gonna die here… like this… I’m coming to you, darling… to heaven.”

Great motivational speech, Dad. Really inspiring.

The brothers raised their stones high.

A blinding surge of power burst forth, weaving together into a swirling mass of energy—an enormous spirit bomb that glowed with every color of a very, very bad idea. It screamed, not with sound but with the psychic wail of a thousand nightmares. The air itself trembled. My heartbeat stumbled and then raced, each thud echoing like a drum of doom.

With a final, unified roar, they hurled the magic bomb straight at us.

For a single, stretched-thin heartbeat, time itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then—

Nothing.

No explosion. No fiery end. Just a dull thunk, like someone had lobbed a pillow at a brick wall.

The brothers blinked. So did I.

Around us, a shimmering purple barrier had sprung to life—a giant translucent bubble of pure defiance. The magic bomb’s energy skittered across its surface in a dazzling light show, then fizzled out with a hiss that sounded almost embarrassed.

The hall beyond the barrier was a mess. Walls scorched black. Pillars cracked like old bones. The floor had fractured into a spiderweb of jagged lines. But inside the barrier? Not a single hair was out of place.

Even Father’s mustache looked smug, curling slightly at the tips as if it, too, had personally deflected the apocalypse.

Slowly—inevitably—all eyes turned to me.

Their gazes were a cocktail of shock, awe, and—dare I say—mild terror.

And that’s when I felt it. The grin.

It started small, tugging at the corners of my mouth, but it grew and grew, stretching wider until it threatened to split my face.

Yes, baby. That was my barrier.

I hadn’t planned it. I hadn’t even known I could do it. But there it was SYSTEM, shimmering and magnificent, as if the universe had finally decided to give me a dramatic entrance worth bragging about.

The queen’s eyes widened, a flicker of something—admiration? amusement?—crossing her face. Lucy’s grip on her sword loosened fractionally, a silent acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the one who needed protecting. Lily’s jaw dropped. Urara’s lips parted in a soundless gasp.

Even the brothers, their crimson eyes narrowed, seemed momentarily unsure. Their black mist faltered, curling back like a wounded animal.

And me?

I laughed.

It started as a low chuckle, a sound bubbling up from deep in my chest. Then it swelled, rolling out of me in a wild, unstoppable tide. Laughter—loud, bright, and a little bit unhinged—filled the hall, bouncing off the cracked stone pillars and mixing with the hiss of fading magic.

Because in that single, ridiculous, impossible moment, I wasn’t the accidental hero. I wasn’t the guy who smuggled an AK-47 into a fairytale gone wrong.

I was the storm.

And the look on their faces—brothers, queen, father, everyone—was worth every terrifying second.

Lily and Lucy stood frozen, eyes wide as if the purple glow from my barrier had leapt straight into their souls. Their swords—still raised—lowered just an inch, enough to show the shock they were trying and failing to hide.

Even the queen, who usually wore confidence the way other people wore jewelry, looked momentarily undone. Her emerald eyes flickered with a mix of awe and suspicion.

Urara, usually the quietest of our group, finally found her voice. She stepped closer, her brows knitting together, and whispered, “It’s… it’s a magical barrier? How? What are your conditions?”

Her words hung in the cold air like a challenge.

I tilted my head, letting a grin curl across my face. “My condition?” I echoed, letting the silence stretch until everyone leaned forward, hungry for the answer. Then, with a wink at Urara, I said, “SYSTEM.”

The word rang like a bell through the hall, carrying a confidence I didn’t entirely feel but enjoyed faking.

The brothers didn’t give me long to savor their confusion. Crimson eyes narrowing, they began to gather their dark mist again, their silhouettes swelling like storm clouds about to burst. The sickly light of their jade stones pulsed faster—heartbeats of some ancient horror speeding toward violence.

I raised a hand, palm out. “Queen,” I called over my shoulder without taking my eyes off the enemy. “Be ready.”

She blinked once, the shock in her eyes hardening into focus.

From the pouch at my belt I pulled two small crystal vials, each filled with a swirling liquid that caught the green firelight like molten jewels. I pressed one into the queen’s hand and the other into Lucy’s. “This,” I said, “is Lily’s latest invention. A little something we cooked up while the rest of you were busy worrying about the price of bread.”

Lily—our resident alchemist and habitual under-sleeper—flushed but didn’t argue.

“One for the queen,” I continued, “and one for Lucy. Trust me.”

The queen uncorked her vial without hesitation and downed it in a single regal tilt of the head. The effect was immediate. Her posture straightened, shoulders squaring like a warrior queen stepping onto an ancient battlefield. A surge of shimmering blue light danced across her skin as though the lake itself had lent her its strength.

Lucy hesitated only a breath before drinking hers. The change was dramatic. A sudden flush crept across her cheeks and down her neck. The silver of her sword seemed to catch fire, and her hair whipped around her face as if drawn by an unseen wind.

She gasped, eyes blazing. “I… I feel—hot.”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “Ready for your fire dance, Lucy?”

Her answering smile was all teeth. “Yes,” she said, voice low and dangerous. “But this hall… it’s far too small for it.”

The queen opened her mouth, probably to issue some comment about water magic conditions—she could never resist the poetry of elements—but I was already laughing. The sound rolled through the hall, startling in its suddenness. I clapped my hands once.

And the world shifted.

The green-lit stone walls, the cracked pillars, the reek of damp ancient grudges—gone in a blink.

A rush of cool, sweet air wrapped around us. Birds chirped overhead. The ground beneath our feet softened from cold stone to springy earth.

System pops up

*TELEPORT USED 9 TIMES*
*REMAINS 10 USES*

We were standing beside the wide, serene lake near the forest—the same lakeside clearing where we had once cooked dinner and argued about whose turn it was to wash the pans. Only this time, it was no sleepy night beneath a blanket of stars. Bright afternoon sunlight sparkled across the lake’s surface, turning every ripple into a shard of silver.

The brothers stood a few yards away, their black mist still curling like smoke from an extinguished fire. Shock was written across all four faces.

The queen spun toward me, her gown catching the golden light like liquid emerald. “You… you know teleport?” Her voice trembled, not with fear but with astonishment. “That’s an ancient magic—lost even to the archives.”

Lucy stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “Yes,” she breathed, “and it has mysterious conditions… Who are you, Erik?”

Lily and Urara exchanged wide-eyed glances. “We once saw it in dungeon time,” Lily whispered, her usual quick tongue slowed by wonder.

“Yes,” Urara added softly, “but never like this.”

I gave them all a lopsided grin. “No time to explain,” I said. “You’ll just have to add it to the long list of things you’ll scold me about later.”

Behind me the lake lapped gently against the shore, as if waiting for the story to catch up.

I turned to the queen. “Be ready.”

Something in my voice must have struck her, because she only nodded. The potion’s power flared again within her, a visible aura of blue light rippling across her arms and shoulders.

The brothers recovered from their initial shock and quickly reorganized. Adam, the eldest, barked a word in a tongue that made the air shudder. The other three responded instantly, their jade stones glowing an angry crimson.

The queen stepped forward. Sunlight caught the water at her feet and rose to meet her call. A sphere of glistening liquid gathered around her, spinning faster until it became a cyclone of pure, living water. Her body blurred inside the storm; she was no longer merely a queen but a force of nature, an embodiment of the lake’s eternal strength.

Adam thrust his jade stone forward, sending a streak of dark magic straight at her. The bolt hissed like a serpent—but it struck the spinning water and dissolved into harmless steam.

The queen’s voice rang out, deep and commanding, a tone that seemed to belong to the lake itself. Every word was a wave crashing against the shore. The water around her thickened, then stretched outward like a giant arm, sweeping toward Adam with the unstoppable strength of a tidal surge.

He staggered, crimson light flaring around him as he tried to counter.

The other three brothers leapt to his aid, weaving their own dark spells into the fray. Black tendrils of mist lashed out, seeking to choke the queen’s cyclone.

But even as the battle with water and darkness raged, a second force ignited.

Lucy moved.

She leapt forward in a blur, her sword now wrapped in flames that shimmered like molten gold. The potion had awakened something deep in her, something fierce and wild.

The air around her shimmered with heat. Her every step left a trail of glowing embers.

“Lucy!” I called, half in warning, half in awe.

She only laughed—a low, dangerous sound—and began the fire dance.

It was less a fight and more a performance, a whirling ballet of flame and steel. Her blade carved arcs of fire through the air, each movement a stroke of living light. The brothers reeled, unprepared for such ferocity.

One swung his jade stone toward her, but the heat warped his aim; the spell sputtered and died. Lucy spun low, her sword a burning crescent, and swept his legs from under him. He hit the ground with a thud, unconscious before his head even touched the soil.

Another brother lunged. Lucy’s flames surged higher, wrapping her like a second skin. She twirled, the fire dance reaching a fevered climax, and her blade’s fiery arc struck him square across the chest. He staggered, eyes wide, then collapsed in a heap of smoke and stunned silence.

Two down.

Adam shouted in fury, crimson light flaring like a dying star. He tried to rally the last brother, but I could already see him faltering.

And we still had Lily and Urara.

The final brother charged, his mist forming jagged spikes of black crystal. But Urara stepped forward with a calm she hadn’t possessed an hour ago. Her staff glowed with a soft, golden light.

“Your darkness,” she said quietly, “ends here.”

A wave of golden energy pulsed outward from her staff, meeting the brother’s attack and unraveling it thread by thread.

Lily darted in from the side, quick and precise, a small vial of shimmering dust in her hand. She hurled it at the brother’s feet; it burst in a flash of silver smoke. He coughed once, then twice, his knees buckling as the sleeping powder took hold.

The last of Adam’s allies crumpled to the earth.

The queen’s cyclone still roared, a wall of water so dense that Adam’s every attempt to pierce it failed. He staggered back, soaked and sputtering, the crimson glow of his jade stone dimming to a dull, angry ember.

I took a step forward, my own grin returning. “Round two,” I said softly, letting the words hang like a promise.

Adam glared at me, fury and confusion warring in his crimson eyes. The black mist around him writhed, but for the first time it looked less like a weapon and more like a wounded animal.

Behind me the girls—queen, Lucy still smoldering, Lily and Urara standing tall—closed ranks.

I could feel their energy at my back: fire and water, light and shadow, all of it woven together in a sudden, unexpected unity.

The lake shimmered, the sunlight danced, and for a heartbeat the entire world seemed to hold its breath.

We had turned their ambush into our battlefield.

And Adam—eldest brother, master of jade stones, herald of ancient grudges—was finally, unmistakably, alone.

The aftermath of the four brothers’ arrest was… anticlimactic in a way that somehow felt satisfying. Mister Harlock, the one who’d been shaking his head in horror and muttering about “disgraces to the dukedom,” finally had the chance to take decisive action. Or, well, what passed for decisive action in a court filled with nobles who spent more time polishing daggers than making actual decisions.

He had looked particularly shamed that day, a twitching shadow of the usually pompous bureaucrat. He’d shuffled papers, scowled at portraits of long-dead ancestors, and then—finally—he’d made the ruling.

The four brothers were stripped of all positions, honors, and anything that vaguely resembled dignity. Their palaces, titles, and secret stashes of jade stones were confiscated. And, of course, they were thrown into prison, each of them looking exactly like someone who had just realized life was suddenly very unfair.

I watched all this from far, sipping tea that was still slightly burned but infinitely more satisfying because the world seemed to be obeying my version of justice for once. The four brothers—Adam, the eldest, and his three equally terrifying siblings—had been reduced to scowling silhouettes behind iron bars. Their eyes glowed faintly through the darkness, and I swear Adam tried to shoot me a death glare that would’ve pierced steel if only he could reach me.

Days passed.

And just like clockwork, their release came.

I wasn’t entirely sure if the council had second thoughts or if someone had simply grown bored of their drama, but there they were again, standing at my doorstep—or more accurately, lying around my estate like they owned the place.

Adam sprawled across a chaise lounge, legs hanging off the side like a cat who had decided the world owed him naps. The second brother was on the floor, jaw propped on one hand, staring at the ceiling as though he could plot world domination through sheer glare alone. The third had taken over the garden bench, swinging his legs lazily and humming some eerie tune that sounded suspiciously like a villain theme song. And the fourth? Well, he’d somehow found the fountain and was using it as a makeshift footbath, which really didn’t add to the “menacing presence” he had cultivated so carefully. In Short they have no magic left now to do anything.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course. They had all returned to their usual habits: lying around, causing mischief, and completely ignoring any real work. The same four brothers who had once terrorized dukedoms, now just… lounging. Like cats with a terrifying magic streak. Ofcrouce if they had not been released within a week Queen and Duke’s position would be trouble. Nice Queen, you did it.

Meanwhile, the real shift in my life wasn’t these lazy ex-villains—it was the attention from the women around me.

The queen, who had previously been more concerned with protocol, diplomacy, and making sure I didn’t set the royal kitchens on fire, now seemed genuinely, utterly… interested in me. She leaned casually against the balcony railing one afternoon, hair shimmering in sunlight, and her eyes—emerald and sharp—found mine.

“Darling,” she said, voice soft but commanding all at once, “why didn’t you tell me you had special magic? Now you’re… worthy. Truly worthy. Can you imagine? A king’s crown… all yours. Look at me—be my king.”

Her words hit me like a warm gust of wind through a window I hadn’t realized was open. The queen—the actual queen, the ruler of a kingdom, the woman whose gaze could stop armies—was asking me to be her king. I had to swallow hard. “W-what do I even say to that?” I managed, voice cracking just slightly under the weight of the absurdity.

Before I could even think about an answer, Lucy piped up from behind me, her usual mischievous grin on full display. “And I’ll be your second queen,” she said, stepping forward with her sword casually slung across her back, clearly treating this like a negotiation she already expected to win.

Lily, never one to be left out, crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Me, third.” She smirked, though I caught the faintest blush on her cheeks.

Urara, who always had the uncanny timing to say exactly what everyone else hadn’t, leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Then me, fourth.”

I blinked. Four queens? Seriously? I had gone from “delivery guy” to “king candidate” in a matter of weeks, and the court of my own life had just expanded exponentially.

Lily, however, wasn’t convinced. “Why do you want to be a queen?” she asked sharply. “You have no reason, right? You barely even get any screen time with Erik!”

Her accusation—half teasing, half serious—hit like a comedic arrow. I stared at her for a moment, blinking.

“Cause… it’s a 22-chapter novel,” Urara said confidently, cutting through the tension. “And Erik—well, he’s going to write a huge, 1,000-chapter story about me and him only, soon enough. You should be honored to be part of the side plot.”

I paused. Did she just… casually reveal she had insider knowledge of my narrative plans? My jaw dropped slightly. Urara’s eyes sparkled with confidence and something else—anticipation, mischief, the quiet arrogance of a supporting character who knows her role is about to explode.

Before I could recover from that revelation, Alicia, the quiet one in our group who rarely said more than a sentence at a time, stepped forward. Her voice was soft, barely audible, but carried the weight of certainty.

“Then… I will be the heroine of Erik.”

My brain short-circuited for a second. Did she just declare herself the heroine of my story? Literally my story? My internal monologue stuttered. “Okay… this is officially insane.”

Then Kiara, never one to miss an opportunity for drama, winked at me as if to punctuate the statement, and added in a teasing tone, “And I will be the coffee queen of yours.”

I blinked at her. “Coffee queen?”

“Yes,” she said smoothly, as though this were perfectly normal. “All things coffee shall bow to me. All cappuccinos, all lattes, all frappes. You will make offerings regularly, Erik.”

I sank back into my chair, hands gripping the arms as I tried to process the sheer absurdity of it all. Since I had left my delivery job—a job that had seemed the pinnacle of mundanity in my previous life—I had been… blessed, in a way I couldn’t have imagined.

I was surrounded by women who were not only powerful, fearless, and magical but also utterly, ridiculously invested in me. Their loyalty, their quirks, their over-the-top declarations of devotion—it was like someone had handed me the ultimate harem of destiny, complete with plot twists, magical potions, and dramatic dialogue.

And yet, as I looked at them—the queen leaning elegantly, Lucy practically vibrating with enthusiasm, Lily smirking but secretly plotting her next move, Urara poised and confident, Alicia quietly determined, and Kiara winking mischievously—I felt… a strange sort of calm.

Yes, things were absurd. Yes, I was suddenly the centerpiece of what could only be described as a chaotic ensemble cast of devotion, magic, and mild insanity. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like this was… mine. My life. My story. My bizarre, wonderful, completely impossible life.

I leaned back and let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the moment and the power in my hands. Somehow, in this insane world of magic, royalty, and improbable harem dynamics, I had found my place.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Well,” I said slowly, “looks like… I’m the luckiest delivery guy in history.”

The queen’s emerald eyes softened as she stepped closer. Her hand brushed mine ever so slightly. “Lucky?” she said softly, a teasing lilt to her tone. “Darling, you are more than lucky. You are destined.”

Lucy elbowed me lightly, flames of enthusiasm in her eyes. “Destined… for fire dance, remember?”

Lily crossed her arms, clearly ready to argue but also clearly smiling, an odd combination that made me laugh despite myself.

Urara added, in that calm, deliberate tone she reserved for moments of absolute truth, “Destiny is not merely given—it is claimed, Erik. And we… claim it with you.”

Alicia simply nodded, eyes steady, her quiet determination a grounding force.

Kiara, ever the dramatic, winked again. “And don’t forget the coffee. You’ll need it if you plan to keep up with all of us.”