Cloudy didn’t react at first. His little pink-glasses face hovered in a neutral emoji of existential buffering.

  “What do you think about these changes?” he finally asked, voice oddly stiff. The way he said it felt… wrong. Like he genuinely needed my approval.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Wouldn’t you do it anyway?” I countered. “Because this is weird, Cloudy. You don’t ask. You inform.”

  I tightened my arms around Lola, like she was a very startled emotional support human. “Unless…” I paused, staring at him. “Wait. Do you… need me?” Cloudy floated in a slow, aimless circle. No words. Which was an answer all by itself. “Aha!” I jabbed a finger at him. “You DO.”

  He deflated a little, puff curling inward like a cloud sighing. “…Yes. I need you.”

  Lola’s breath caught. My grin doubled.

  “I did not plan for this,” Cloudy continued, glasses tilting downward. “But besides Nathan, you have the largest influence on how the system should operate for players. Your usage patterns, decisions, and… behaviors shape more of Rimelion than intended. Core system parts of me gave you say in discussions over Earth systems.”

  I didn’t fully process the “behaviors” part before collapsing backwards on the bed, dragging Lola with me like an unwilling plushie.

  “You… need me,” I repeated, grinning up at the ceiling. “Why?”

  Cloudy’s drawn-on eyes flattened into an exhausted line. “Just agree,” he muttered, redrawing his face into something that looked like teacher-has-a-headache mode.

  I stuck my tongue out at him. Full childish display. Lola made a strangled noise as I squeezed her harder, like I was wringing out stress through her. She whispered, “Lady… is it wise to tease a literal god entity like that?”

  Pointless whisper, Cloudy heard everything.

  But I shrugged anyway. “If Cloudy wanted a yes-woman, he should’ve picked someone else. I’m not built for obedience.” My smile faded just a little. I stared up at the ceiling, the memory prickling behind my ribs. “I’m not letting anyone mess with me. Saevrin messed with me enough.”

  Cloudy hovered silently, the air shifting around him like the felt that one.

  “Nathan cashed in favor,” Cloudy said, his body dimming like a cloud trying to storm. “I planned none of these systems, and… it broke everything.”

  His voice dropped, genuinely upset. “A system should be balanced, not bent out of shape. But introducing so many elements at once pushed us into a dangerous state.”

  He floated closer, pink glasses shimmering with stress. “We’ll fix that.”

  “Oooh,” I said, pointing dramatically at him. “So that’s why you let me keep one body. A bribe!” I grinned. “Right?” Lola giggled softly, and I joined her, the two of us absolutely contributing to Cloudy’s divine migraine.

  “Yes,” Cloudy said flatly, not even attempting shame. “I need your support.”

  I shot him a thoughtful look. “Meaning… I could ask for more, right?”

  Cloudy spun around, and when his doodle-face came back into view, it wore a deep, squiggly frown. “You could.”

  I leaned back, letting Lola slip from my arms as I sprawled out on the bed again. The ceiling suddenly became the most interesting philosophical object in the room. “…But being friendly with you has its perks, right? Nathan probably pushed you, and look at him now.”

  Cloudy drifted, refusing to dignify that with an answer. Which was an answer.

  “What about teleportation?” Lola suddenly said, sitting up with her hair all staticy and adorable. “It would help our kingdom keep players interested. If we had a teleporter—”

  “Cloudy probably wanted to remove that since forever,” I cut in, glancing over. “Mom was just the perfect excuse.” Then, I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at him. “Before I agree to anything, we’re checking my stats from the fight. All of them.”

  Cloudy remained perfectly still… which was suspicious as hell. “Cloudy.” I leaned forward. “I fought half the city and Gatei. Don’t tell me I didn’t gain enough levels.”

  “You might,” he said.

  A window blinked into existence.

  [Congratulations! You have gained 19 levels!]

  I shot upright like a toaster. “Cloudy"! Only nineteen?!” Lola winced in sympathy. “I fully expected more! I fought Grandmasters with levels way into the thirties!”

  “With effectively the same level,” Cloudy countered immediately, as if he had this argument pre-loaded. “And when you used that potion, your effective level rose above the limit cap. That is another thing I need to change.”

  Then he delivered the next sentence like a surgeon delivering a diagnosis: “Scamantha’s class is too good at making potions. I need to make them more volatile.”

  Lola snorted, brushing her hair back. “She will like that,” she said, standing and trying to pat her clothes into something vaguely non-crumpled.

  I shook my head, grumbling. “Okay, Cloudy, I need to power-level soon. There should be enough dungeons near Altandai for me to clear.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Can I count on your vote?” Cloudy asked. His smiley face popped back on like nothing ever happened.

  I rolled my eyes so hard I saw past decisions. “You pester me like Lucas. Yes, you can. But—” I pointed a finger at him, “—you’ll hear me out next time I have a problem. And you’ll help.”

  Cloudy paused. The long pause where even his glasses looked unsure. It was almost as if I asked my favorite paradox: Is the answer to this question no?

  “I don’t hand out favors anymore,” he said stiffly.

  “Then consider it friendship!” I said brightly. “Friends help each other, right? I’ve got your back now; you’ve got mine later, eh?” I winked.

  Cloudy’s little drawn eyebrows lifted. Then lowered. Then flattened in resignation. “…Very well. Thank you.”

  And he vanished with a soft pff of displaced air.

  “Welp, that’s that.” I turned to Lola—hair tousled, clothes wrinkled, cheeks pink—and grimaced. “Sorry about all that.”

  She laughed, brushing her skirt down even though it didn’t help. “I don’t mind, actually.”

  Aaaand cue my blush, because of course. Lola was way too cute; maybe I could persuade her for a small date… Nah, not now. Meanwhile, my own clothes looked pristine. Like I’d just come out of a magical washing machine.

  “Huh,” I murmured.

  Lola cleared her throat. “I… prepared a suit for you. But I wasn’t sure if you’d want to—”

  She pointed toward the box beside the wall.

  Inside was a perfect business outfit. A deep midnight-blue blazer, a matching high-waisted pencil skirt with subtle spark-thread woven through. A soft white blouse with a delicate collar and tiny frost-shaped buttons, sheer black tights folded neatly in a silk pouch and a slim belt with a silver crest buckle… with 3D printed the Rimebreak snowflake.

  “Oh, Lola!” I launched myself at her again and hugged her tight. She squeaked but hugged back, flustered but glowing. “Okay,” I said, grinning, “I’ll let my clothes eat it!”

  I knelt beside the box, picked up the blazer, pressed it to my enchanted outfit… and concentrated.

  The fabric shimmered—

  swirled—

  and with a soft whoosh, the Earth clothes were devoured, rewritten, and reshaped into the enchanted version of Lola’s design.

  A moment later, I stood fully dressed in her chosen outfit.

  “Good, eh?” I said, spinning once. She just stared. Absolutely starstruck. So I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door. “Come on. Where’s the guy?”

  “Oh!” she jolted back to reality, cheeks blooming pink as she snatched up her holo. “Right—this way!”

  The elevator chimed at the sixteenth floor with all the enthusiasm of a dead goldfish. Its doors slid open to reveal… a closet. And when we walked out of it it revelated…

  A meeting room.

  A painfully normal, soul-draining, mortal meeting room.

  Grey walls, a long rectangular table, stackable chairs with the optimism beaten out of them. A holo-projector that flickered and not a single bottle of whiskey in sight.

  Truly, the gods had abandoned this place.

  Super mega boring, I decided, stepping inside. If someone slapped a “synergy” poster on the wall, the room would achieve maximum corporate despair.

  Someone had already tried. Because on the right wall hung one of the propaganda posters Rimebreak made of me, with stern look and arms crossed:

  “WORK IS GOOD.”

  Fantastic. I looked like I was about to union-bust a kindergarten.

  At the far end of the table stood a fairly young guy, mid-twenties maybe, dark hair, rolled sleeves, academic posture that said “I read spreadsheets for pleasure.”

  He shot up when we entered. Too fast.

  “Q-Queen—!” He stumbled over a chair, arms pinwheeling as a stack of papers in front of him wobbled like a pre-earthquake tower. Somehow nothing fell.

  His gaze darted from me to the poster on the wall, then back again, panic multiplying.

  Lola smiled like a calm, gentle executioner. “Queen, this is Tyler Carroll… our economist in charge of Altandai revitalization.” Then she turned toward him with pleasant, dangerous professionalism. “Tyler, meet our Queen, Charlie.”

  I wanted to drop a casual “sup” and shove my hands into my pockets, just to sabotage the whole stern-queen image.

  Except.

  Lola’s business outfit had no pockets.

  Zero.

  Fraud.

  Betrayal.

  So instead, left with no backup plan and no pockets to flee to, I went with, “Hello, Tyler. How do we do this?”

  He made a tiny squeaking sound. Something between a bow and a faint.

  We all took our seats—Well, Tyler attempted to take his seat and nearly sat on the floor because the chair slid as if fleeing danger. Tyler shuffled his papers, throat working like he was trying to swallow panic in alphabetical order. “R-right, well— uh— shall we begin?”

  “Please,” Lola said warmly, which in Lola-language meant start before she gets bored and breaks the table. Probably. At least I would imagine her that way.

  Tyler cleared his throat and dove straight into his notes. “Okay. First critical issue: payroll and city services.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Sounds thrilling already.”

  He didn’t blink. Brave. Or too frightened to process sarcasm. “All guards, overseers, and essential maintenance NPCs have depended financially on the Grandmasters’ taxation model. That model collapsed the moment you… eliminated them.”

  Lola nodded. “Naturally.”

  “Which means,” Tyler continued, flipping a page with trembling hands, “the city’s entire payroll has been frozen. Water, power, waste disposal… everything halts within seventy-two hours. Some things within twenty-four. The city will shut down.”

  I opened my mouth. “…like… turn off?”

  He winced. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Lola leaned forward. “But we seized the Grandmasters’ treasury.”

  “Yes,” Tyler said quickly, relieved to finally give good news. “Thanks to that, your… uh, Royal Treasury, can issue what I’m calling a Provisional Silver Token. Redeemable for one unit of basic resource… one loaf of bread, one pint of ale, one night of lodging. That sort of thing.”

  “So… coupons?” I asked.

  “Very stable coupons, Lady,” Lola corrected gently.

  Tyler nodded vigorously. “Extremely stable. And symbolic! Hard currency works fine, but adopting these tokens immediately signals that your new administration has strength, centralization, and direction.”

  I blinked. “So we’re buying loyalty with coupons.”

  “Economically structured coupons,” Lola murmured. “Very different.”

  Tyler shuffled to the next page. “All labor for the next seventy-two hours will be paid in these Silver Tokens. It ensures the city stays functional while we stabilize a long-term currency.”

  I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, imagining myself printed on a token with a speech bubble saying, “WORK IS GOOD.”

  Gods.

  What a nightmare.

  Lola tapped her holo. “That brings us to the next issue. Leadership.”

  I blinked. “What leadership?”

  “Exactly.” Lola sighed, rubbing her temple as if this problem physically pained her. “Altandai currently has no Grandmaster, no Council, no administrative head. Once you leave for the new capital, someone must govern the city. Someone with authority.”

  “A count,” Tyler added quietly.

  Lola nodded. “Yes. The formal title would be Count of Altandai.”

  I stared. “A count.”

  “Yes.”

  “Of the entire city.”

  “Yes.”

  “That sounds… important.”

  “That is why we need one,” Lola said flatly.

  I tapped the table. “Okay, but who?”

  Lola looked at me, unbothered. “I nominate Dmitry.”

  I choked on my breath. “Him?! Lola… there has to be someone better!”

  She gave the most elegant shrug of all time. “He is competent. He understands administration, supply chains, and chaos management. He would accept the role.”

  “What about Lumi? Or Llama? Or… someone less… Dmitry?”

  “Lumi is inexperienced,” Lola said calmly. “Llama could be considered, but he refuses positions involving paperwork. Dmitry already handles all that, and this will pose no problem for him. Logically, he is the strongest candidate.”

  I leaned back, stunned. Count Dmitry. “Oh hell,” I mumbled. “He’s gonna love that.”

  Lola flicked her holo, already forming spreadsheets like a queen of bureaucracy. “Altandai requires a competent administrator. And Dmitry… is competent.”

  Tyler nodded timidly. “Very competent.”