Let me set the scene.
It's summer. In Atheria. Again.
The sun? Angry. The weather? Sweat-inducing. The townsfolk? Starting to look like roasted potatoes.
And me? I was fine—thanks to SPF 50.
Yes, I brought sunscreen to another world. I'm not stupid. I may be many things: lazy, opportunistic, emotionally dependent on pudding—but not sunburned.
Still, I was walking through town one day when I saw poor Marius, my overly loyal delivery knight, limping back from a 20-house ice cream run, his skin the exact shade of an undercooked lobster.
"Lady Rika," he gasped, "I'm... slightly burned... by the sun god."
"Oh dear," I muttered, pulling a bottle of sunscreen out of my bag. "Use this. It's... a sacred balm."
He rubbed it on his arms, sighed, and fifteen minutes later—no pain. I even gave him a tiny travel-sized bottle and told him to reapply.
That should've been the end of it.
It was not.
Later that day, I returned from Earth (snack run—priorities) to find a group of villagers lined up in front of my house, fanning themselves with woven hats and chanting something about the "Divine Cream of Skin-Shielding."
I should've seen it coming.
The rumors got wild real fast:
"It's dragon slime from the sacred marshlands!"
"No, it's milky oil from a cursed starfish she summoned through her mirror portal!"
"I heard she wrestled a fire elemental and squeezed it out of its tears!"
Honestly, those are all amazing marketing pitches, but I still tried to correct them.
"It's not dragon slime," I said, waving a bottle. "It's... just 'Sun Guard Essence.' Very common in the distant land of... uh... Nivea."
Someone gasped. "A kingdom?!"
"No—wait—"
Too late. They started writing it into songs.
Eventually, I gave up and printed a label that said "Sun Guard Essence: Blessed by the Cool Moon." Earth sunscreen, but fantasy edition.
Sales? Through the roof.
More importantly, fewer people started getting heatstroke.
Of course, there were complications. One lady slathered it on her cow. Another thought it was edible. I walked into the bakery and found the chef trying to "sun-protect" a loaf of bread. When I asked why, he said the bread had been "burning lately" and he wanted to "balance the fire spirits."
I told him to turn down his oven. He thanked me for the "wisdom of the ice goddess."
sigh.
In any case, the sunscreen hype gave me another idea: a beach day.
Atheria doesn't really do beach trips. The coast is considered dangerous because of giant crabs and "storm fish," which I assume are just really angry tuna. But I'd been eyeing this nice hidden cove with white sand and calm waves. A bit of magic, some Earth inflatable tubes, a few waterproof tarps... and boom.
The first Atherian beach resort.
I stopped time, went to Earth, bought everything: folding chairs, a cooler, two umbrellas, watermelon, and ten different types of fizzy drinks. I even bought a Bluetooth speaker and disguised it as a "singing sea orb."
Then I teleported back, set it all up, and invited the delivery team, the mayor's family, Lila, and Marius. It turned into a full-on festival.
People freaked out when I served cold drinks with fruit in them.
"Is this sorcery?"
"It's lemonade."
"And this—what is this wondrous floating beast?" one child shrieked, riding a flamingo pool float.
"...A divine bird spirit," I sighed.
Of course, I also handed out sunscreen to everyone and made them apply it before touching the water. And because I didn't want to explain what UV rays were, I just said, "The sun is strong today. You don't want to offend it."
Ten minutes later, someone started chanting, "Praise the Cream! Praise the Cream!"
I buried my face in my towel.
The beach day ended with grilled fish, watermelon smashing (blindfolded Marius nearly took out a sandcastle), and a sunset that looked straight out of a postcard.
As we packed up, Lila turned to me and said, "Lady Rika... you've changed our world."
I wanted to laugh. I really did. I just wanted to eat watermelon and wear flip-flops, and somehow I'd launched a skincare revolution, a beach culture, and a possible religion.
But I smiled instead and said, "Well... I guess I'm just doing my best."
And then I tripped over a beach bucket and landed face-first in the sand.
Graceful, as always.