My name is Barbie, but not that Barbie. I’m a commoner student at Academy No. 89757, and in my previous life I was an internet marketing specialist who dropped dead at my desk.
The System says my princess potential is minus 100 percent.
In our first class, the teacher asked what the most important quality of a princess was. I blurted out, “ROI. Return on investment. Let’s calculate the castle’s upkeep, dress-cleaning bills, and food waste at banquets before we talk about elegance.”
The teacher’s magic wand shattered on the spot.
Later, I did three things: I started livestreaming to sell lipstick endorsed by princesses, made a PowerPoint to help a prince profile potential brides, and renamed the Fairy Godmother’s class “Introduction to AI Art.” The whole academy went wild, the king summoned me, and the wicked stepsister knocked on my door late at night to borrow my slides.
The System warned me that I was straying from the main storyline. The prince got down on one knee and begged me to become his business partner.
Looking at the yard full of pink bubbles, I smiled and said, “Be a princess? Sorry, but this life, I’m going to be the boss.”
