The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

Tension clung to the air like mist. The guards still stood at a distance. Kian's face had gone dark. Luca looked like he'd forgotten how to breathe. And Isabella?

Well, she was doing what she did best—pretending she wasn't about to faint from the anxiety of not knowing what was going on.

That's when it happened.

"Okay now, Isabella, what is the number one thing you know you're very good at?" Bubu's voice broke through the silence like an unexpected sneeze during a funeral. The little floating ball had been unusually quiet, hovering above her shoulder like a halo that ran on sarcasm instead of light. But now it swirled in a slow circle, glowing faintly as it posed the question with far too much seriousness.

Isabella blinked, startled, her gaze darting sideways at the system. "Huh?" she responded mentally, brows pulling together. "Being confident, obviously." She didn't even hesitate, flipping her imaginary hair in her mind like the queen she believed herself to be.

Bubu stopped rotating and gave her a long, unimpressed stare.

"No. The second-best thing?" it asked again, as if maybe she had misunderstood the assignment.

Isabella paused. Thought for a second. Then beamed proudly.

"Looking pretty."

The confidence in her voice was so solid it could've punched someone in the face.

Bubu hovered in front of her, absolutely silent.

Isabella's smirk widened. What? She wasn't lying.

"…I'm actually reconsidering whether I should start adapting your delusions as my own survival mechanism," Bubu muttered, its voice dry enough to start a desert.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Isabella huffed, crossing her arms.

Before she could follow up with a sarcastic comeback, Bubu's voice changed. Its glow dimmed slightly, tone serious now, like it had put on a little digital suit and tie.

"So just stand still and look pretty or whatever."

Isabella tilted her head. "Wait, what?"

"Stand. Still. And. Look. Pretty." Bubu repeated, slowly, as though speaking to someone who just hit her head. "The literal meaning. Because if you don't, and something goes wrong, and your head gets chopped off, I will personally bring you back to life and murder you myself."

Her eyes went wide.

"W-What do you mean by that?! Are you serious?!" she asked aloud, voice a little high-pitched now.

Bubu's orb rotated again, ever so slowly, like a parent trying not to scream at their kid in public. "Let's try and see," it said flatly.

Isabella let out a nervous laugh, doing her best to keep her facial muscles from spasming. She adjusted her stance immediately, back straight, chin tilted, expression blank but seductive. A statue. A goddess. A queen in a field of chaos.

"Hehe, it's totally fine! I have absolutely zero problems with standing still and looking pretty," she said, planting one hand on her hip as her lips curled into the most awkward smile known to mankind. "In fact, I've been preparing for this moment my whole life."

"What are you doing?" Luca asked from behind her as more men joined them.

She didn't look at him.

She was too busy mentally screaming at the situation and herself.

'Okay… breathing. Still alive. They don't know you're clueless. You look good. Just breathe. Do not pass out and ruin your own face.'

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kian glance at her. His expression unreadable, but his gaze lingered long enough to make her heart thump.

Was he checking on her?

Judging her?

Wondering why she suddenly turned into a half-paralyzed statue?

She didn't care. Not right now.

Because Bubu floated closer again.

And its tone? Colder this time.

"Isabella, go down!" Bubu's voice sliced through the air like a whip.

Isabella obeyed instantly, dropping into a crouch with her arms thrown protectively over her head. Not even a second later, something whistled past her cheek.

Thud.

An arrow embedded itself into the dirt just inches away from where her face had been.

She froze.

Her heart slammed in her chest. "Did I just get shot at?! What in—"

Her head slowly turned to Bubu, who was still floating beside her with an eerily calm expression—as if arrows flying around weren't cause for alarm.

"What the hell, Bubu?!" she yelled in her mind, still crouched low.

But the floating system only blinked. "You should thank me. That would have gone through your skull."

Isabella blinked.

Excuse me?

Before she could mentally strangle Bubu, another detail hit her—the arrow. It wasn't the near-death experience that struck her, oddly. It was the arrow itself. The long, stone-tipped projectile was real. Tangible. Primitive yet… functional. And this was her first time seeing an actual arrow since arriving in this bizarre prehistoric fantasy world.

She wasn't sure why that mattered at a time like this, but it did.

Wow. So that's what an arrow looks like… huh.

"ISABELLA!"

She jerked at the sound of Kian's voice.

He was running toward her—fast. His long legs kicked up dust as he closed the distance in moments. His cold composure cracked just a little as he dropped to one knee beside her, eyes scanning her body with sharp focus.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice low, tense, and filled with worry.

It was the most emotion she'd ever heard from him. It startled her more than the arrow had.

Before she could answer, the palace gates flew open behind them. Asael emerged, shirtless and furious, leading a small swarm of guards. Their bare chests glistened under the moon, hair tied back, weapons in hand, alert and ready.

"I'm fine," Isabella finally replied, breathless but unharmed. She gave Kian a small nod.

She hadn't even realized she was shaking until Kian's cold fingers brushed her cheek, grounding her.

"By the way, that'll be 10 points for saving your life. I'll put it on credit," Bubu said nonchalantly, floating just above her head with its stubby little arms crossed.

Isabella's mouth fell open.

"Seriously?" she muttered, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Here I was, thinking you actually cared. You manipulative demon."

Bubu gave a smug little spin. "You're welcome. Now, I suggest getting off the ground unless you'd like to catch the next arrow with your ribs."