Spoilt Princess Reincarnate As a Waitress

Alexia's POV

Yeah, fuck this stupid life. This is not the life I was meant to live. Scrubbing grime off a stupid big window? This is not how a queen-to-be spends her time. Queens don't clean. "Alex, you missed a spot!" my boss, Mrs. O'Hara, yells from the other side of the glass. She's tapping her clipboard against the pane like she's conducting an orchestra of my misery. I flip her a smile that screams "totally loving life!" and mutter under my breath, "Eat dirt, O'Hara."

You might be asking yourself, Alexia, how did you end up in this mess? Yeah, good question. I'd love to know too. Because let me tell you, I wasn't always "Alexia, waitress extraordinaire-slash-miserable cleaner." Oh no. I was Princess Alexia of House Epheffestus, daughter to King Alden and Queen Lorelei, rulers of a kingdom so rich even the horses ate better than most humans. My life was perfect—balls, gowns, jewels, servants. I was beloved. Or at least I assumed so, because everyone had to bow when I walked into a room. That's as close to love as it gets, right?

But all that? Gone. It's like someone hit "New Game" on my life. One minute, I'm a princess, with a tiara that could double as a chandelier, and the next? I wake up screaming in a dingy apartment with a ceiling fan that rattles like it's auditioning for a horror movie. The best part? My new mom. She's not exactly Mother of the Year material. Picture a lady who burns spaghetti and thinks yoga pants are formalwear. That's Brenda. She's been hustling to make ends meet since I was born, and apparently, I was her little "surprise." Gee, thanks, universe.

Fast-forward to now, where I'm scrubbing windows at O'Hara's Diner and dodging "Alex, clean this" and "Alex, serve that" like my life depends on it—because spoiler alert, it does. Tips pay the rent. Barely.

"Alex, are you deaf? I said you missed a spot!" Mrs. O'Hara barks again, snapping me out of my pity party. Her face is smooshed up against the glass like an angry goldfish.

"Got it, boss," I say sweetly, scrubbing with the enthusiasm of a snail. I swear, one day, I'm going to shove this rag so far up her clipboard she'll finally leave me alone.

But let's be real: I'm not here for revenge. I'm here because life decided to knock me off my golden pedestal and straight into a grease trap. What did I do to deserve this? Sure, maybe I wasn't the kindest princess. And yes, there was that one time I turned a maid's dress into a birdcage for fun. But karma, if you're listening—this is overkill!

I step back to admire my work. The window's clean enough to eat off, which is ironic, because the last thing anyone should do is eat anything from O'Hara's kitchen. I toss my rag into the bucket and take a deep breath. Somewhere in this insane twist of fate, I'm supposed to figure out how to fix this mess. I mean, there's got to be a way to reclaim my crown, right?

But for now? Time to survive another day of flipping burgers, scrubbing windows, and pretending I don't want to strangle every customer who orders a triple-shot mocha latte with almond milk at 8 AM.

Yeah. This is my life now. Royal pain included.

Okay, I know I was rambling earlier, making absolutely zero sense. Let me catch you up. Here's the deal: apparently, I died as a princess and got reincarnated into this delightful dumpster fire of a life where there's no monarchy, just something they call "a president." Spoiler alert: he doesn't wear a crown or throw fancy balls. It's been real fun trying to separate my past life of luxury from this current circus of poverty. Let's just say, the transition wasn't seamless.

Spoiled? Yeah, I know. Blame my dad. King Alden adored me. As the only girl in a sea of four loud, obnoxious brothers, I was basically his golden child. Pampered to death, practically gift-wrapped in silks, jewels, and attention. I never lifted a finger. Why would I, when I had a legion of maids scrambling to meet my every whim?

Then boom—my eighteenth birthday. A double celebration: my birthday and my coronation as the only princess and daughter of the ruler of Epheffestus. It was going to be the party of the century. I even had a custom gown embroidered with real diamonds. And then...nothing. I don't remember what happened next. Just a big, fat, black void. That was the day I died. Something must've happened, but the details? Zilch.

Fast forward to my new life. Apparently, when I turned six in this world, something clicked in my head, and I started acting like a princess. My mom—well, Brenda—said I'd parade around the house barking orders like, "Fetch me my royal breakfast!" Let's just say Brenda wasn't amused. Brenda is no queen. Brenda is more... how do I put this politely? A walking disaster.

She's not winning any "Mother of the Year" awards anytime soon, that's for sure. Her parenting style involves ignoring me, smoking, and spending her money—what little she has—on booze. Honestly, when the universe handed out mothers, I feel like I got someone else's return policy reject.

Life hasn't been kind, and neither has school. "Friend of poverty"—that's what they called me. Because kids are cruel and middle school is basically a gladiator arena, but with more acne. Let's just say my hatred for this life is at an all-time high. I had to learn to cook, clean, wash, and iron just to keep us afloat.

In my real life, I learned etiquette, archery, horseback riding, and embroidery. In this trash timeline? I had to endure math, English, history, and chemistry. Let me tell you, chemicals are the devil. Why do they all have names that sound like they came from a spellbook?

I even searched history books to see if my past life existed. Nada. There's still a King Alden and Queen Lorelei from the House of Epheffestus, but the history books say they had four sons. Four sons! No mention of me, the firstborn princess, their pride and joy. It's like I was erased from existence.

One time, I asked my history teacher about it, and he gave me a look like I'd just confessed to being an alien. "Princess Alexia?" he said. "There's no such person." Cool. Thanks for that, sir. Love the gaslighting.

Oh, the kicker? In this life, Brenda named me Alexia. Yep. The same name I had in my past life. Just stripped of the title and dripping in irony. What are the odds? Thanks, universe. Real original.

After high school, things went from bad to worse. No money for college. Heck, Brenda didn't even have money for food or rent half the time. Wherever her cash came from—and I'm not asking questions—it all went to her liquor cabinet. So, here I am. Working my ass off at O'Hara's Diner just so we don't starve to death.

If I could call the universe's customer service, I'd be on the line right now screaming at whoever's in charge of reincarnation. "You made a mistake! I'm supposed to be a princess, not...this!" But no. Instead, I'm stuck in this busted timeline, scrubbing windows, flipping burgers, and praying to make it to payday without losing my mind.

Seriously. Someone up there owes me a refund.