The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

"Kian, are you dying?"

Her voice sliced through the silence like a sharp stone across bark. There was no dramatic inflection in her tone—just dry suspicion, laced with honest curiosity.

Kian turned to look at her, one brow arched slightly, lips pressing together in the barest flicker of amusement. His face didn't change much—Kian wasn't expressive like that—but there was something in his eyes, a shimmer of playfulness that hadn't been there earlier.

"Strange question," he replied.

Isabella tilted her head, hands resting on her knees as she crouched beside the tools, her gaze locked on him with narrowed eyes. "Well, you've been acting weird. Like… not 'you' weird. Warmer. Less shadowy and emotionally unavailable. You even made a joke earlier. What is that?"

Kian didn't respond. Instead, he sat still, legs crossed now, his elbow resting loosely on one knee as he simply stared at her with that calm, unshaken presence of his.

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," she continued, tapping the side of the cauldron distractedly, "It's just… strange. Unexpected. Because if you're not ready to show any affection when people are around—why do it when it's just us?"

She lifted her head to meet his eyes, her tone quieter now, laced with that vulnerable honesty she never liked admitting. "Why make me feel like I mean something when no one's looking?"

Her voice wasn't angry. It was softer than usual—gentle, thoughtful—but not weak. She was trying to understand him, the way one tries to understand a flame: beautiful, warming, but unpredictable if you got too close.

Kian stared at her for what felt like forever. His expression unreadable.

Isabella didn't flinch this time. She didn't press or pout or demand answers. She just watched him and waited.

Finally, he blinked, glanced up at the sky through the trees and said, "It's almost midday. We should start making it."

That was it.

No explanation. No apology. Just that.

And instead of scoffing or barking back like she might've on any other day, Isabella smiled.

Not because his words made her happy—no. But because this was who he was. And somehow, even his distance was familiar now.

"Mmh," she hummed, nodding as her eyes returned to the crushed herbs and shell bowls beside her. She started to arrange them again, not looking at him anymore, but her mood had shifted. Calmer. Not content exactly, but... steady.

She stood up, brushing dust off her knees and looked over her shoulder. "Wait here," she said softly. "I'll be back."

Then she walked into the hut, her silhouette brushing past the hide curtain as the sunlight filtered down through the trees above.

Kian's eyes followed her.

He didn't move. He didn't blink.

But his jaw tightened slightly. His hand curled a little against his knee.

And for the first time since he arrived, something subtle but heavy settled in his chest. A pressure. A twist of discomfort he couldn't name—but it pulsed deep and slow, like something old waking up.

He looked down at the wooden pestle resting by the crushed root paste. Then back at the hut.

His brows drew together.

He had come here thinking he'd help her make shampoo. Maybe tease her a little. Be her strength if she needed it.

But now… now he was wondering if what she'd said had cut deeper than it should have.

Not because it was wrong. But because it was right.

And he hated that.

...

"Bubu, I wanna purchase shampoo," Isabella said with an exhausted sigh, as if the words physically pained her. Her tone was deadpan, eyes half-lidded as she stared at the empty air like it owed her money. Which, in a way, it did.

There was a dramatic pause—long enough for a breeze to ruffle the animal hide flapping above her entrance—before the system's voice finally chirped back.

"Oh really? And here I thought you were going full DIY like a feral cave maiden," Bubu said in its usual mocking tone, smug as always.

Isabella's jaw clenched. "Just give me the damn shampoo, you thief, and take the 100 points," she snapped, eyes twitching with restraint as her fingers curled into fists at her side.

Spending points always left a bad taste in her mouth. A soul-deep ache like giving away her favorite dumpling just because someone asked nicely. Every time that number dropped, a piece of her sanity went with it.

"Sure, sure!" Bubu sang in a sugar-sweet voice. "No need to be so stingy, User. You've got over six thousand left! Treat yourself!"

Before Isabella could retort, a shimmering light bloomed midair and with a tiny pop! a bottle materialized, hovering gently before falling straight into her hands.

{100 points deducted for Herbal Shampoo}

{Current balance = 6,461 points}

She stared at the bottle, then at the floating numbers.

"Tsk. Herbal shampoo that cleanses and strengthens hair… for 100 points?" Isabella grumbled under her breath. "Daylight robbery. I could've made that with some leaves and lies."

"Did you say something?" Bubu asked sweetly, as if daring her.

"I said give me the manual," Isabella replied through gritted teeth, already dumping the shampoo into her space pouch like it offended her senses.

Immediately, a small scroll-shaped download bar hovered in front of her, slowly filling with glowing blue lines as the manual uploaded to her knowledge bank.

While she waited, Isabella reached for the Infinite Water Pouch hanging from a hook in the corner and slung it around her neck like a prized necklace. It bounced lightly against her chest, cool and familiar.

Now that was a good investment. A rare useful item gifted by Bubu without an outrageous price tag.

She had used it to drink during long, overheated treks across the cracked forest paths, her throat parched and dry like old bark. It had saved her more times than she could count—like that one time she nearly passed out under the scorching sun while trying to outrun a territorial two-horned tuskbeast. One squeeze of that pouch and boom, instant refreshment.

"Truly the best thing you ever gave me, you little flea," she mumbled, patting the pouch affectionately.

Not for washing. Not for cooking. Just pure, life-saving hydration.

And maybe once… maybe… she'd squirted it at a nosy elder beastwoman who kept asking when she'd finally choose a mate.

Totally justified.

As the manual finished downloading with a satisfying ding, Isabella stood up and dusted off her hands.

She turned, ready to leave, when Bubu's voice called out again.

"So no 'thank you,' huh?"

Isabella paused.

Her face turned to stone. No smile, no gratitude. Just a long, heavy glare into the nothingness where Bubu's voice floated.

"Ohhh the glare of silence," Bubu sighed, as if deeply wounded. "Ungrateful user."

And with a dramatic poof of sparkles and bitterness, the system vanished again.