CHAPTER 49: I GOT A COOL FREAKIN HAT YO!

Finn looked around.

"Wait... where the hell is Chestelle?"

How could he forget her? For the last hour she’d been practically glued to his side. Clinging to him. Breathing weirdly. Occasionally whispering things like "your bones are shaped funny" when no one was looking.

Now?

Gone.

"Where is she..?"

"Right here," said a voice directly behind his ear.

"OH SHIT—!"

Finn jumped like a feral cat caught with a fleshlight. He spun 180 degrees mid-air.

And there she was.

Chestelle.

Standing perfectly still.

Directly behind where he was standing.

Majestria flinched. Even she hadn’t sensed her—and she was a literal goddess.

Chestelle smiled sweetly, like she hadn’t just violated every known law of spatial reality. Under her arm was a book, tucked tight like a sacred text. Something about it looked... familiar.

She held it out proudly.

"I see you got to read her cool book," she said, tapping the cover with her fingernail. "I got mine too, see?"

Finn’s soul recoiled.

His lip parted. His brain lagged. The girl who once was a literal chest, who he had accidentally groped, who turned out to be some weird, shy, eldritch-adjacent creature—was now proudly displaying fanfiction.

Perverted fanfiction.

Of him.

And Majestria.

She opened the book confidently.

Page 69.

Of course.

Finn staggered. "Wh—Where did you even come from?!"

Chestelle tilted her head, innocent and unblinking. "I was with you the whole time. Did you not notice me..?"

Finn’s brain did the Windows error sound.

"I—I... whattt..."

Chestelle puffed her cheeks like a brat. "I liked the part where you made Majestria bark like a doggy for you."

Majestria’s jaw dropped open. "WH—EXCUSE ME?!"

Chestelle calmly turned the page. "Honestly? I think it would’ve been better without the slime."

Finn looked.

It was annotated. In red ink. With little stars and critiques like "good tension!" and "add more tail action?"

His pupils dilated. His soul left his body. He wanted to grab the nearest sacred object and bash himself with it until he died and maybe taken to a normal world.

"Yep," he muttered, staring into space. "I actually died. That truck wasn’t a joke. This is hell. I’m in hell. This is what hell looks like."

"What the HELL am I hearing?!" a voice bellowed.

Finn looked down at his hand.

Oh yeah.

Beard Man.

Still severed. Still alive. Still being held like a crusty handbag.

He had heard everything.

Finn slowly raised him up to eye level.

Beard Man stared at them with visible horror. "You people are SICK!"

Yeah.

He was definitely disgusted.

Chestelle tilted her head at Beard Man, genuinely confused. "I’m disgusting..? I thought the book was cute. Lickthorn gave me an extra copy when I asked what she was doing."

Finn and Majestria’s heads snapped toward Lickthorn like cursed animatronics. Her ears twitched. She sensed danger.

Lickthorn waved her hands frantically. "It’s not what it looks like—hehe—she just wanted to see what I was writing and I—uh—"

Her eyes drifted shut as a smug little grin crept across her face.

"So you gave her the fanfic," Finn deadpanned. "How many copies do you have, exactly?"

Her eyes shot open like a raccoon caught chewing through electrical wiring. "Only two! I swear!"

Finn and Majestria exchanged a long, slow look. Then turned back to her.

They both hummed.

Majestria cracked her knuckles, her divine aura flaring slightly. "I think you need to understand something, Lickthorn. When it comes to me, only I get to write stories about myself. Got it?"

She stepped forward, glowing faintly, the air crackling with power. Lickthorn panicked.

"No—wait—let’s talk about this—I can make a spin-off! A prequel! A soft romance AU—GAH!"

And then came the divine beatdown.

It was swift. Brutal. Cathartic.

Finn let it happen while he distracted himself with anything else. He even started organizing a nearby pile of burnt wood just to keep his hands busy.

Beard Man sighed from Finn’s hand. "Can you please hurry this up? I’d like to go back into the box now."

"Yeah, yeah. Soon." Finn muttered. Honestly, he agreed. Except he didn’t have a box to return to. Just trauma. And these weirdos.

He turned toward Chestelle, who beamed up at him with sparkly anime eyes.

Finn sighed. "Just... don’t read that book anymore."

"Okay!" she chirped.

And then, with zero hesitation, she hurled the book away like it was made of expired ham.

Finn blinked. "No resistance? No argument?"

"Nope! I do whatever you say!" she said cheerfully, smiling so brightly it was almost blinding. "You did save me, after all. So I belong to you~"

Finn’s heart skipped a beat.

Hold it together, man. Not here. Not now. Don’t simp. Not in front of the beard man.

"Finn."

He turned around.

Arsenio, the old wizard geezer, stood nearby looking suspiciously sentimental.

"What now?" Finn grumbled.

"They want to give you one more gift."

Finn’s eyes widened. ’Oh no... Not again. Not another completely useless power. I don’t need to summon wet socks or scream spaghetti facts at my enemies.’

One of the robed wizards stepped forward, holding something in both hands. Finn prepared himself for disappointment. A rubber duck. A cursed spoon. Maybe another useless power that only works on Tuesdays for some reason.

Instead, he saw—It.

One of the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes on.

A wizard hat.

But not just any wizard hat.

A white, pointy masterpiece twisted slightly at the tip like some eldritch ice cream swirl. The brim wasn’t just wide—it flared outward in jagged sun-ray spikes, like it was forged by a mad god who wanted to cosplay as both Gandalf and a K-Pop idol. A thick black band wrapped around the base, giving it that perfect blend of gothic menace and chaotic drip.

It was cool. No—cool wasn’t enough.

This was the hat of a protagonist.

Of a problem. Of a man about to throw hands with fate while looking fresh as hell.

Finn was stunned. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His soul was having an out-of-body experience.

The wizard gently placed the hat on Finn’s bowed head.

It fit. Perfectly.

Like destiny had been waiting for this dumbass to finally put on a cool hat and get his life together.

Finn gasped.

Then squealed.

Like a fangirl whose anime boyfriend just came to life and asked her to prom while doing a backflip. It echoed across the ruined library.

"EEEEEEE!!"

He twirled. He posed. He struck a finger-gun and winked at a random wizard.

For the first time since dying, being reborn, nearly dying again, getting molested by a slime and chests —Finn was genuinely happy.

Chestelle clapped with full-body enthusiasm like a cheerleader on espresso. "You look SO COOL! Master Wizard Drip God!!" She bounced in place. "Let me polish your hat!! Can I polish it?? Can I wear it?? Actually no, you wear it, you deserve it!!"

Finn basked in it. This. This was the moment. This was why people get isekai’d. For hats.

Finn took a deep breath, savoring the validation, the praise, the feeling of finally winning one thing in this cursed world—

Until reality drop-kicked him in the chest.

Right.

They still had... unsettled business.

Finn stopped spinning. His eyes narrowed. He slowly turned toward the wizards, the destroyed tables, Beard Man in hand, and a bruised Lickthorn whimpering under a pile of divine punches.

The vibe died.

Chestelle’s cheer faded too. "Oh yeah... we were doing something, huh?"

Finn adjusted his hat like a cowboy ready to duel.

"Yeah. Let’s go finish this crap."