QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)
Chapter 198: Tea

Chapter 198: Tea

198 —

Daphne POV

I can’t do this anymore.

Sure, it was hilarious at first. Comedic even. A fairytale dream dipped in glitter and nonsense.

Now? It’s a psychological horror show with sparkles.

Apparently, Snow White is a little demon. Not metaphorically. I mean full-on, chaos-inducing, nightmare-spawn, possibly possessed.

The evil queen?

Turns out she was well within her rights trying to off the girl.

Honestly, I’m shocked she didn’t try sooner.

The dwarves?

All seven of them have filed a restraining order.

A restraining order.

They’re currently living in a heavily warded mushroom commune on the outskirts of the forest under new names. Bashful goes by Greg now and jumps if anyone says "apple."

As for the infamous glass coffin?

Oh, she wasn’t dead. Not even close.

Apparently it was the only thing that could keep her still for more than ten minutes, and the dwarves were practically begging the evil queen to extend the enchantment.

Honestly? I would’ve done the same.

She’s a self-entitled, narcissistic menace.

I thought the records were exaggerated until I met her.

And don’t even get me started on her husband.

Prince Creepy of Necrokissington.

Who looks like he stepped out of a perfume ad but talks like a man who keeps teeth in a jar.

Who kisses unconscious women?

Who marries them after?

The mirror on the wall?

Not magical—just twisted.

Apparently it’s an heirloom, passed down from Snow’s grandmother who once hexed a village for mismatching curtains. Now the mirror mostly whispers self-affirming lies and petty gossip.

I’ve officially blacklisted the entire region.

I’m never—ever—stepping foot in that side of the woods again.

Not unless I’m armed.

And drunk.

Cinderella? Don’t get me started.

Oh, I stan, though.

Little Miss Glass Slipper? Yeah. She ran off into the sunset with her wicked stepsister.

Not the nice one. The bully.

The one who shoved her face in cinders and made her scrub floors while calling her "ash girl."

It’s giving bully romance.

Or—depending on how you squint—a very low-budget fantasy porno.

(I’ve read one of Estela’s sisters smut stash. I know the signs.)

But hey, who am I to stand in the way of fate? Or forbidden sapphic slow-burn enemies-to-lovers redemption arcs?

I may have—mildly—helped them escape through a secret portal after the wedding chaos.

Was it ethical? Questionable.

Did I forge a new ending in the Archive of Fairytale Outcomes? Technically, yes.

Was it worth it to see Cinderella toss her glass slipper at the prince’s head like a frisbee? Absolutely.

She screamed, "I’m not a prize," and vanished in a flurry of glitter and lesbian triumph. Iconic.

The stepmother’s still spiraling in a tower somewhere, muttering about betrayal and "what about the bloodline?"

The prince? Last I heard, he’s in grief therapy with a singing mouse.

They hold hands and cry once a week.

It’s all insane, really.

Absolutely unhinged.

But somewhere between negotiating a dragon-human custody arrangement, mediating a mermaid divorce trial, and dodging Snow White’s flying cutlery—I catch myself thinking:

God, she would’ve loved this.

Instead, I’m here sipping tea that tastes like rainbows and regret, wearing a stupid pink suit, refereeing a love triangle between a talking frog, a blind witch, and a gender-swapped Rapunzel.

It’s not the same without her.

The fun isn’t as loud. The absurdity, less sweet.

The joy—it hits different when you have no one to elbow in the ribs and say, "Are you seeing this shit?"

So yes, it’s ridiculous.

It’s deliriously, hilariously, eye-twitchingly chaotic.

But all I can think is—

It would’ve been better if she were here.

And maybe, just maybe, I would’ve laughed until I cried.

*

I’m not even surprised anymore.

Truly, I’ve reached a level of numbness I didn’t think possible.

I’m standing in the middle of a royal dispute, watching one of the three fairies who raised the sleeping beauty princess—Miss Blue Fairy herself—argue her case to secure the throne for her son. Her son, who, mind you, happens to be the prince’s younger brother. The twist? She had him with the king.

So much for sweet old ladies in sparkly gowns. I mean, seriously, wasn’t she supposed to be baking cupcakes and offering sparkly advice? Not... getting pregnant with her ward’s father. What even is this world?

I don’t even flinch anymore. I just sip my tea while the drama unfolds like a soap opera on steroids. There’s a spider on the stone wall beside me, and I swear it’s cackling.

To her credit, Miss Blue Fairy is defending her position like a seasoned lawyer with a scandalous case on live television. Her two fairy sisters sit beside her, looking like they want to sink into the floor. Meanwhile, Prince Philip—the good one, not like Snow White’s creepy coffin-kissing husband—is doing his best to pretend he doesn’t exist. Poor guy. I feel for him. Minor magical consent issues aside, he’s a decent person. But now? Now his father’s bedroom escapades have publicly humiliated him.

Across from me, the King and Queen—his in-laws—are glaring at the king. I almost want to hand them popcorn.

"What happened to the plan of joining our kingdoms, Hubert?" the queen asks coolly.

Oh, Hubert. Why are you rolling around with fairies at your age? And now I sound ageist. Great. But still—I’ve grown old before, and even at his age I didn’t have it in me anymore.

I clap my hands once. Sharp. Loud. Everyone turns to me.

"Okay. There are two options," I say, in my best ’let’s not all kill each other’ voice. "Either we stick with the original plan—the prince and princess’s child inherits both kingdoms. Or, Prince Philip will have to join the princess’s family line and forfeit his right to your kingdom’s throne... in favor of his younger, not-yet-born sibling."

Miss Blue Fairy’s eyes sparkle with hope. The King looks like he might pass out.

But the Queen? She stands.

"Of course we’ll proceed with the original plan," she says. Her voice is smooth, commanding.

"Decades of diplomacy will not be undone because Hubert forgot he’s not twenty anymore."

Well.

She’s got a point.

Miss Blue Fairy shoots to her feet—her wings twitching, glowing faintly blue like an overcharged mana battery. She’s offended. Dramatically so. One hand goes to her chest like someone just questioned her virtue. The other points an accusing finger at the Queen.

"That’s rich, coming from a woman who’s never had to share her crown with a soul! My son is just as royal as any child born in a bed of velvet!"

"Okay," I interrupt, raising one hand calmly. "Let’s all remember that I do, in fact, have a job."

I’m scared she’ll use her fairy magic on the Queen with how angry she’s being, buy she’s cute really, a cute little old lady...that’s pregnant.

"The final decision," I say, "falls to King Hubert. As messy as this is, he’s the father of both heirs. He will choose which child inherits the throne."

All eyes turn to Hubert.

King Hubert—royal adulterer, man of ancient diplomatic treaties, unexpected fairy-lover—rises slowly from his seat. The light catches his crown just right. He looks... tired. And weirdly sincere.

"I..." he begins, and immediately tears prick at his eyes.

"I love both of my sons. But Philip... Philip was raised for this. He’s trained, studied, sacrificed. He has a kingdom already watching him, depending on him."

His voice cracks.

"It wouldn’t be fair to my second son to thrust him into a future built entirely for someone else’s name. He deserves more than to be treated like a complication."

He turns to the Blue Fairy, voice gentler now.

"I’m sorry. But he deserves a throne of his own. Not Philip’s."

The fairy looks like she’s swallowing glass. But she doesn’t argue. Not anymore.

And me?

I just sip my tea. Because for once, that actually went... sort of okay. I have a feeling this isn’t the end of this, but that’s the job for the next Resolutionist, besides it’ll reset after a couple of hundred years anyway.