The king muttered, genuinely devastated: "But he was the hero..."
"Heroes die," I replied softly. "But Rose lived on… because he saved her."
A middle-aged man near the fountain openly sobbed into his wife's shoulder.
When I finished, the plaza erupted—not in cheers, but in emotional destruction. Women cried. Men cried. Children cried. Even the KING wiped his eyes like, "Dust. There's dust."
Princess Milabuella, fully caffeinated and emotionally unstable, grabbed Sir Alex by the cloak. "IF A SHIP EVER SINKS WHEN WE'RE TOGETHER YOU BETTER NOT DIE ON ME—"
Sir Alex froze, face redder than roasted beetroot.
High Mage Hector was yelling at the sky: "I must create a water-warded, ice-resistant ship IMMEDIATELY!"
And me? I was sipping my mango juice, watching the chaos, thinking: "Wow. I just traumatized a kingdom with Titanic."
Chubby internally muttered: "Good job. Now can we go home? My tail hurts."
