QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)
Chapter 195: Resolutionist

Chapter 195: Resolutionist

195 — Daphne POV

I find myself seated in an office.

And it’s bright.

So bright.

I squint and look around. The entire place looks like a rainbow threw up on it.

Walls—pastel stripes. Ceiling—covered in glittery clouds. Carpet—plush purple with tiny smiling suns embroidered in the fibers.

There’s a ridiculous pink teacup-shaped chair beneath me, rocking gently. A giant mushroom umbrella shades the room.

I glance down.

I’m wearing a pink suit and white gloves.

At least it’s still a suit. Small mercies.

I shift in the chair. It squeaks softly. I stare at the gleaming white desk in front of me.

A neat placard reads:

"Daphne Han — Head of Fairytale Disturbance Resolution."

I blink.

What.

Before I can think more—information downloads into my head.

Ah.

This is a fairytale works and my job?Stop the characters from killing each other. Or doing anything too drastic. Keep the story from collapsing.

A glorified therapist-cop-lawyer hybrid, apparently. No specific plot role. No protagonist this time.

Well. I guess I’ll just ride it out until... whenever. How bad can it be?

***

I’m reading a book.

Apparently this world resets every five hundred years. Complete cycle wipe. Starts from scratch, everyone reborn, same roles, same archetypes, just slight variations.

An eternal loop.

Interesting.

I sip from a floral porcelain teacup (the only option, of course), flipping through the pages.

It’s peaceful.

Was peaceful.

Until—

BOOM

The door explodes inward in a cloud of glitter.

I blink.

A young man in gleaming armor stumbles into the room, cape fluttering dramatically behind him. Every inch of him sparkles—his hair, his armor, even his eyelashes. It’s almost painful to look at.

I grimace, glance around, open a cupboard—thankfully, a pair of oversized heart-shaped sunglasses rests inside. I slip them on.

Better.

"Madame Resolutionist!" the man cries, voice trembling with despair. "I need urgent counsel!"

I blink slowly.

He falls into a deep bow, gauntlets clinking.

"I am Prince Gallant of Everfleur," he declares.

"I was meant to rescue Princess Floribella from the Tower of Eternal Peril—but she... she... she has ruined our destiny!"

And just like that—he collapses to his knees on the plush sun-carpet, sobbing into his gloved hands.

...

I lower the book.

Okay.

One second.

I flip back through the text—page 14. Right. Prince Gallant. Meant to rescue Princess Floribella from a dragon. Standard fairytale quest. Happily-ever-after marriage. The usual nonsense.

I close the book with a sigh.

"Calm down, Your Highness," I say, keeping my tone neutral.

He wails louder.

I resist the urge to massage my temples.

I glance around the ridiculous office—spot a wand on the wall. A glittery, rhinestone-covered wand.

Of course.

I grab it anyway, flick it experimentally—

A portal shimmers into existence, revealing the tower. A ridiculous, spiraling structure of glowing red and violet stone.

I wave toward the image.

"I’m sure we can resolve this," I say flatly. "Come with me, Your Highness."

Still sniffling, he scrambles upright and scurries after me—cape trailing.

We step through.

*

We step through.

The portal deposits us neatly into the shadow of a floating balcony.

I glance up.

Okay. Tower of Eternal Peril. Check. Vines with glowing flowers, check. Enchanted flames spiraling the stonework, check.

And then—

Noise.

Loud.

Rhythmic.

Unmistakable.

...I peer around the balcony edge.

...I kid you not.

The princess is fucking the dragon.

No, I am not exaggerating. No, I am not misinterpreting the scene. No, I am not hallucinating—though part of me very much wishes I were.

The princess—golden-haired, flower-crowned, flowing silken gown hitched up around her waist—is currently fucking the enormous, scaled, muscular dragon that was supposed to be her captor.

The dragon? Massive, gleaming red-gold, horns curved elegantly—currently making the tower shake. The entire top floor is vibrating.

I blink.

I slowly push the sunglasses further up the bridge of my nose.

Another particularly loud moan echoes through the tower.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

How is this possible?

The narrative isn’t just broken—it’s been shattered, ground to dust, set on fire, then used to fuel a hentai plotline.( Yes I know about hentai, one of Estela’s sisters was so kind as to educate me.)

I breathe slowly.

Steady. Professional. Resolutionist.

I stand straighter and attempt to wrack my brain.

Okay. How do I de-escalate this...

I walk towards them, and clear my throat.

The prince sobbing at my side.

I clear my throat. Loudly.

Again.

The prince is still sobbing at my side. I ignore him.

A third time—louder.

No reaction.

The princess is—very occupied. The dragon is... extremely enthusiastic. My eye twitches.

I inhale slowly.

"Excuse me," I say—louder this time, voice sharp.

Nothing.

I sigh. I dig into the ridiculous satchel someone thoughtfully provided with this absurd pink suit.

Glittery wand—still here.

Fine.

I point it upward and fire off a bright bang! of sparkles toward the ceiling.

BOOM.

Finally, a pause.

Two heads turn—one scaled, one flower-crowned.

The princess blinks at me—flushed, panting, but very alert.

"Oh," she says brightly, smoothing her ruined gown (pointlessly, mind you—it’s not covering much). "Resolutionist! You’re here!"

She sounds delighted. Cheerful. Absolutely no shame whatsoever.

I glance back at Prince Galliant, who is now clutching his chest and sobbing harder. He looks about one shallow breath away from fainting—his golden curls practically wilting under the emotional strain.

I return my gaze to the... couple.

Focus. You are a professional. You have a title. You are paid... in theoretical narrative points... to fix this.

I clear my throat.

"There has been a report filed by Prince Galliant here—"

"Gallant," both the prince and the princess correct in unison.

"...Gallant," I correct with a sigh. "Prince Gallant here has raised certain concerns regarding... this situation."

The princess leans into the dragon’s massive chest. The beast lets out a soft, pleased rumble that vibrates through the floor.

"No need to bother, Miss Resolutionist," the princess says, smiling radiantly. "I’ve met my true love."

"I’myour true love!!! " the prince screams, voice cracking, eyes streaming.

The dragon growls—deep, low, protective—smoke curling up between its fangs.

I look at the prince. He’s trembling, one gauntleted hand clutching his heart.

I look at the dragon. It’s enormous. Gleaming scales. Muscles like a siege engine. Tail coiled lazily but ready to strike.

I look at the princess. She’s glowing. Positively glowing with post-draconic... affection.