Maxim "Max" Brickwell, self-proclaimed genius real estate developer, adjusted his too-shiny tie in front of the cracked mirror of his modest office. His reflection glared back at him—not with respect, but with the judgment only a mirror and a slightly sentient building could give.
"Today," Max declared, pounding the desk for dramatic effect, "I will build the greatest property this fantasy world has EVER seen!"
A faint groan came from behind him.
"Did the desk just sigh?" he asked.
"Yes," said a sarcastic voice from the shadows. "And the chair is filing a formal complaint about your leadership."
Max spun around. A glowing, floating book hovered mid-air. "Ah! My assistant! My magical aide! Tell me, how soon until my masterpiece stands tall?"
The book rolled its eyes magically. "You mean the scrap heap you're about to summon? Approximately… oh, six seconds until collapse."
"Minor details," Max waved, stepping outside onto his new plot of land—a perfectly cursed swath of earth with a "For Sale" sign that ominously twitched.
"Behold! My vision!" Max shouted, waving his arms. With a flourish, he summoned the building spell. Sparkling lights, magical beams, and… kaboom!
The ground shook violently. A puff of smoke, a screech of tortured metal, and… well, it wasn't exactly a building. More like a leaning tower of shattered dreams, with smoke curling up in the shape of an accusatory finger.
Max stared. "…Artistic interpretation!"
Before he could reassure himself, the tenants arrived. First, a dragon in a designer suit. It tapped its clawed foot, leaving scorch marks on the grass. "I demand air-conditioning. And a dragonproof balcony."
Next, a ghost in a polka-dot dress floated gracefully, frowning. "This penthouse is haunted. Literally. Refund?"
And then… the MILFs arrived. Not one, but three impossibly thicc, magically radiant ladies in high heels, each carrying absurdly large purses that clinked with mysterious enchanted contents.
One pointed at the wrecked tower. "Excuse me, darling, I need a spa, a teleportation portal, and a rooftop pool that can fit my dragon-sized pet cat."
Max's jaw dropped. "Yes. Perfect. Exactly what I wanted!"
The floating book groaned. "You—do realize that's… impossible, right?"
"Impossible?" Max said, smiling through the smoke. "In my hands, everything is POSSIBLE!"
The dragon rolled its eyes. The ghost sighed. The MILFs whispered among themselves, plotting subtle chaos. And somewhere behind Max, the ground began to rumble ominously.
Max clenched his fists. "Bring it on! The city of my dreams… shall rise!"
A huge explosion interrupted him, sending a cloud of rainbow-colored smoke spiraling into the sky. Max coughed. The dragon hissed. The ghost moaned. The MILFs… laughed.
"Chapter one," Max muttered, waving heroically through the smoke, "and we're already making HISTORY!"
Little did he know, this was only the first of many disasters he would survive… barely.