Chapter 388: Never Recovering From This

Now downgraded to “fancy origami paper”, apparently.

Not to mention…

His mother’s gift. The Queen. Queen Chioma. The woman who raised him with royal grace, whose gift likely involved historic heirlooms, ancestral blessings, and 10 generations of symbolism and hope.

And none of that beat…

A used, hand embroidered handkerchief.

Probably scented with lavender… and anxiety.

@RoyalBudgeter: Someone tell Queen Chioma her crown’s value just got dethroned by aromatherapy cloth.

@Embroidery4Life: Embroidery classes in 3…2…1… Everyone GO!

@LemonadeStandKing: On his birthday I’m gifting him my old shoelace. Apparently that’s peak emotional currency.

Meanwhile, someone in the audience whispered, “At this point, my cousin’s macaroni art could’ve made it to the top three…”

Another added, “Bro, I burned through five credit cards for those Crown Drops. My cat doesn’t even recognize me anymore. And all he wanted was nostalgic fabric?!”

The guests, from nobles to influencers, foreign dignitaries to petty kingdom cousins, sat stewing in a collective broth of disbelief, envy, and existential dread.

Some were whispering. Others were wailing silently into their champagne flutes. One royal fainted, but politely. Another just muttered, “I should’ve embroidered my tax returns.”

Nnenna, standing amidst the social fallout, could feel their resentment. It was like heat from an overcooked oven, faintly crispy and absolutely judgmental.

But what could she do? Shrug? Apologize for accidentally triggering national chaos with a scented napkin?

was in

Unbothered.

Unmoved.

Unreachable.

that soft, almost cinematic grace, gently picking the handkerchief from the plush pillow atop the royal parcel stand, as if retrieving a sacred

ceremonial table where they were neatly and now bitterly arranged by top tier

lion wearing a jeweled collar, left behind like

this gift? Oh no. Not this

it like it was forged by destiny and

hall, and to the horror of every gem hoarding royal and estate gifting duke, he

That was

pocket a gentle tap. The pressure of the cloth against his heart made him feel like Nnenna herself had whispered “You got this” straight into his

wildflowers, and what heartbreak

The crowd gasped.

HE TUCKED IT IN HIS HEART ZONE

diamond tiger egg in

guests started plotting

deserves a medieval wedgie,” hissed Duke Tinrin

twelve ton tech drone that reads your dreams, but pockets a glorified napkin?!” shrieked

hands, scrolls, or both. “Where’s my army?” he

them made a

down, they were all just glorified royal mice… and Somto? Somto was the cat. No, he was a lion! Everyone

any lion. He was the lion with a scented, embroidered emotional nuke tucked into his chest like it was

So they smiled.

soul crumbling

“Oh wow.”

“How… tender.”

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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