'...And we are going to sue them for every last copper piece!'

FaeLina's psychic shriek of pure, legal fury echoed in my mind, but I was barely listening.

I was still reeling from the soul-crushing horror of my own lazy philosophy being turned into a cheap, marketable gimmick. I wasn't just a dungeon anymore. I was a lifestyle brand.

While I was having my internal, existential crisis, FaeLina, with the terrifying efficiency of a true manager, had already moved on to damage control.

"A lawsuit will take too long," she muttered to herself, her mind clearly working at a hundred miles an hour. "We need to act now. We need to protect the brand." She turned to the team, her eyes gleaming with a new, terrifyingly brilliant idea. "Alright, team! New plan! If the market is going to be flooded with cheap, low-quality Comfy Corner knock-offs, then we are going to fight back with a superior, officially licensed product!"

The team just stared at her, completely baffled.

"We're going to create our own line of official merchandise," she announced, a manic grin on her face. "If the public wants a piece of The Comfy Corner, they're going to get it from us. The real Comfy Corner."

Gilda just grunted, her hand resting on her axe. "So... we're going to fight a goblin buffet... with pillows?"

"Not just pillows, Gilda!" FaeLina chirped, her aura flaring a brilliant, profitable pink. "Pillows, tea, incense, and a full line of adorable plushy toys! It's a multi-front war of superior coziness!"

And she launched her campaign immediately, her first target being the very heart of our sanctuary.

Before I could even fully process the phrase "adorable plushy toys," FaeLina had zipped over to the Tea Nook, her aura flaring a brilliant, profitable pink. The entire "product development" whirlwind that consumed the next few days began with a single, pointed declaration.

"We start here," she'd announced to Sloosh and Zazu, and so began the unlikeliest of partnerships. Sloosh, as the tea's original creator, worked with a quiet, wobbly focus, carefully measuring out rare moon-herbs. At his side, Zazu—the elf who had ridden that very tea to a national title—assumed the role of lead consultant. For hours, one would brew, and the other would sample, with Zazu taking slow, thoughtful sips from each test batch before muttering about "achieving the perfect aromatic profile for optimal steeping."

Gilda, to her profound and deep-seated horror, was tasked with helping Pip design a line of plushy toys based on the dungeon's residents. The first prototype was a small, surprisingly soft Sir Crumplebuns doll.

"His Spoonblade is insufficiently heroic," Gilda grunted, her expert warrior's eye assessing the toy's craftsmanship. "The angle is wrong. It should be held at a 45-degree angle for an optimal charge."

Pip, who was frantically sketching in a notebook, just nodded. "Right, right, 45-degree angle. More heroic. Got it."

Kaelen, with her assassin's precision, was put in charge of quality control for a new line of "official" Comfy Corner pillows. She would silently, methodically, test each one, her expression a mask of pure, professional focus as she looked for any lumps or imperfections.

A single, almost imperceptible nod from her was the highest seal of approval a pillow could receive.

Once the products were designed, the entire lobby transformed into an assembly line.

After Zazu gave his final approval on the tea blend, Sloosh carefully portioned it into small tea bags. Cinder then followed behind, puffing out perfectly controlled bursts of cinnamon-scented smoke to heat-seal the boxes shut.

But the heaviest work, stamping the shipping crates, fell to Sir Crumplebuns. He performed the job with a heroic solemnity, bringing his plushy fists down with a mighty THUD to apply a "100% Cozy" label to each bags. All the while, my tiny Dust Bunny minions scurried about, valiantly trying to clean up the ever-growing mountains of pillow stuffing and stray tea leaves.

Even I was given a task. FaeLina had me use a small fraction of my DP to create the "Mochi's Signature Scent" for a new line of calming incense: a perfect, magical blend of chamomile, old books, and cinnamon.

What had once been a quiet sanctuary was now a bustling, chaotic, and oddly cheerful workshop. The mages of the 'Anomalous Sanctuaries Research Unit' carried on with their studies, their silver orbs humming dutifully as they weaved around drifts of pillow stuffing and the occasional squeaky toy rolling across the floor.

At one point, the lead mage, in her quest to analyze every aspect of my magic, directed one of her humming silver orbs to take a reading of a newly-Kaelen-approved pillow.

The orb floated over, its silver surface humming with a low, analytical energy. It got within an inch of the pillow, and then... it just stopped. Its humming softened, its glowing runes dimmed, and it slowly, gently, drifted to the floor, where it nestled into the plush fabric and went completely dormant.

The lead mage just stared at the sleeping orb, then at the pillow, then back at the orb. She furiously scribbled a new note on her floating chalkboard: 'Hypothesis: The subject's 'coziness' is not just a passive aura; it is an active, contagious field capable of even neutralizing complex magical constructs. Further study... and a larger budget... required.'

The workshop operated in a state of cheerful chaos for the next few days, a whirlwind of fluff, cinnamon smoke, and Gilda's occasional grumbling. It all culminated in a single, perfect Sir Crumplebuns doll, which FaeLina was admiring with the pride of a conquering general when a new portal suddenly swirled open in the center of the lobby.

It wasn't the academic blue of the Mages' Guild, nor the royal gold of the tournament. This one was a shimmering, ethereal silver, woven with threads of moonlight. It didn't make a sound. It just... opened. And from it came the faint perfume of wildflowers..... and ancient, utterly unforgiving bureaucracy.

From the portal, A single figure stepped through. He was tall and impossibly elegant, with iridescent, dragonfly-like wings that hummed with a silent power. He wore the crisp, formal robes of the Fairy Administrative Bureau, a look of stern, professional authority on his agelessly beautiful face.

He scanned the lobby—the mages in the corner, the piles of pillow stuffing, Sir Crumplebuns proudly holding a smaller, plushy version of himself—and a look of profound, professional disdain crossed his face.

He unrolled a shimmering, silver scroll, and spoke, his voice a high, clear chime that cut through the cheerful noise of the workshop like a shard of glass.

"By order of the High Council of the Summer Court," he declared, "a formal summons is hereby issued for the fairy entity known as... FaeLina." He looked directly at her, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "You are hereby commanded to report to the Fairy Realm at once, to answer for the crime of… Unauthorized Management of a Non-Standard Magical Anomaly."

___________

Author's Note:

And just when things were starting to look up, a new, much more terrifying threat has arrived! FaeLina's past has finally caught up with her.

I love the image of the team's chaotic little workshop, with Gilda giving notes on the heroic angle of a plushy's spoon. It's the most wholesome sweatshop ever.

But a summons from the Fairy Realm! And for "Unauthorized Management"! FaeLina isn't just Mochi's manager; she's an unlicensed manager, and the magical world's most powerful and rule-obsessed bureaucracy is here to shut her down. This is a whole new level of trouble. Thanks for reading!

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