The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

The women leaned forward, eyes wide with anticipation as the chosen girl turned in a slow circle, allowing each of them to take a whiff.

"Oooh…" one woman exhaled dreamily, her eyes fluttering closed. "It's so soft!"

"Like cool mist over smooth leaves!" another sighed.

"And there's… something sweet in it too… like honey and crushed fruit—what flower is this?"

"I've never smelled anything like it," a third murmured, clutching her chest dramatically. "Not in all my life!"

The lucky girl holding the flower glowed with pride, standing straighter with each compliment. She glanced at Isabella with open awe, clearly feeling like a queen.

Isabella smirked, arms folded, chin tilted just slightly upward as she soaked in their admiration. "There are other colors too," she said, her tone light but calculated. "And each one smells different. Some stronger, some gentler. Depends on the shade and when you pick them."

The women gasped again, already whispering excitedly to one another.

Just then, a faint chime echoed in Isabella's ears—only audible to her.

She blinked as a blue translucent panel appeared before her eyes.

[Congratulations on introducing a simple perfume!]

[+350 points, +5 Survival Points, +5 Beauty Points]

Her lips curled into a tiny smile. She quickly closed the notification with a blink of her eye, concealing the interface from view before anyone could suspect a thing. Her heart buzzed with satisfaction, but she kept her expression unreadable.

Focus.

She turned back to the group.

"Each of you will get to try one eventually," Isabella said smoothly. "These flowers are rare, but not impossible to find—"

"Wait!" the girl holding the flower suddenly interrupted, holding it out with both hands. "Is this one for me?"

The hope in her voice could've shattered glass. A few of the others were already inching closer with longing in their eyes, as if ready to snatch it and sprint if Isabella said yes.

Isabella blinked, then burst into laughter. "No, love."

The girl flinched, disappointment clear.

Isabella reached forward and plucked the flower from her fingers like a mother confiscating candy from a naughty child. "This one was hard to get. I only managed to snatch it and run. The rest… well, the men will have to earn it."

"Where did you even find it?" one of the women asked, stepping closer. "I've never seen anything like that around here."

Isabella held up the flower dramatically. "The east ridge of Mount Feirun."

Gasps erupted like popping corn.

"Mount Feirun?" someone choked.

"I thought it was forbidden!"

"Isn't that where the mist beasts roam?!"

"Wait… is that place really as dangerous as they say, or was it just a rumor to keep us women inside?"

At that, Isabella shook her head quickly, her expression growing serious. "Oh, it's dangerous," she said flatly. "The air is thick with poison mist in some places. You take the wrong step and end up inside a crevice with bones that aren't yours. There are growls in the dark that aren't beasts you recognize. And if the mountain doesn't kill you, the climb will."

The women stared, some of them clutching their skirts, others blinking rapidly.

Isabella held the flower to her nose and gave it a dainty sniff, the kind that said yes, I risked my life and still smell better than all of you.

"That's why I couldn't stay long," she said breezily, twirling the stem between her fingers like it was nothing. "Just grabbed a few and ran—like a thief in the night. Rubbed the scent on before anything with teeth or claws could get a good sniff of me."

She laughed softly, the sound casual, unbothered. "If I'd hesitated even a second, I might've ended up perfume for something else entirely."

A reverent silence fell. They looked at her as though she'd returned from battle—limbs intact, hair still perfect, perfume gleaming on her neck like a badge of honor.

"She's so brave," one of them whispered.

"No one else would've dared."

"I heard even trained warriors don't go to Mount Feirun."

Another sighed dreamily. "If I had just an ounce of her courage…"

Isabella resisted the urge to preen. Only barely.

She turned to her right and caught sight of Luca, who stood dutifully just outside the circle. "Luca," she called, her voice turning brisk. "Tomorrow, gather the best men. You'll go to Mount Feirun. Bring back as many of these flowers as you can. I want each woman to have one. Even the children. Understood?"

Luca opened his mouth—but didn't respond. His gaze wasn't on her at all.

Isabella followed his line of sight… and froze.

Luca was staring behind her, his eyes silently pleading, face awkward, shoulders just slightly hunched like a child caught between two angry parents.

And that was when she remembered.

Kian.

Oh.

Right.

She turned her head slowly, heartbeat skipping once.

There he stood, just a few paces behind her—unmoving, silent, a pillar of displeasure. His arms were folded across his broad chest, his jaw locked tightly, and his eyes…

Oh, those eyes.

From the moment she had brought out the flower, Kian had not blinked. He didn't say a word, didn't interrupt—but his gaze had never once left her. And now that she was facing him, it was obvious why.

The quiet storm brewing in his expression said it all.

But none of the women had noticed. They were still watching Isabella with wide, admiring eyes, still whispering and pointing, completely unaware of the stiff tension building in the air behind her.

Only Luca noticed.

And now… so did Isabella.

She blinked once, her lashes sweeping down slowly—almost lazily—as if to say, Oh? So you've finally decided to glare at me? How charming.

Her fingers curled slightly around the stem of the flower, not from fear, but with the poise of a queen holding a scepter. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, almost amused by the silent, searing judgment radiating behind her.

Her spine straightened—not in submission, but like a dancer bracing to perform, every inch of her posture carved with elegance and quiet defiance.

She didn't flinch. Didn't falter. Just lifted her chin by a hair's breadth, and turned.

Because if Kian wanted to glare, then he better be ready to be looked at in return.

She pivoted fully to meet the storm head-on.