The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 131: I think the village got some important visitors

Chapter 131: Chapter 131: I think the village got some important visitors

The fabric was absurdly soft, like some celestial rabbit had donated its fur for a higher cause. It molded perfectly to her, like it had been personally tailored by an ancient goddess of comfort.

And the scent—heaven help her—the scent was ridiculous. A soft wave of rosewater, honey, and the faintest hint of mint drifted up, making her feel like she’d just walked into a luxury bathhouse designed by woodland elves.

She blinked at the palace wall, dumbfounded. "Is this... aromatherapy for my uterus?"

There was even a faint cooling sensation, like a gentle breeze in springtime that said, You’re still a queen, even when your insides are falling apart.

For a second, she almost forgot she was bleeding.

Almost.

She exhaled deeply, flopped back on her fur pile like a woman reborn, and stared at the ceiling. "Okay, Bubu, I still hate you, but... this is criminally good."

She didn’t care if she was dying. At least let her die clean. And chic.

Isabella stared at the ceiling dramatically, as if waiting for life itself to deliver her a personal butler with a glass of orange juice.

Seriously, where were her attendants? Ophelia? Cyrus? She hadn’t seen either in forever, and it was giving neglect.

And speaking of missing people—where the hell was Kian? And where was Shelia? That girl’s been MIA so long, Isabella half-suspected she got abducted by an angry forest chicken.

While she was still marinating in these deep existential crises, Luca suddenly barged in.

Isabella’s whole face twisted, slow motion, into the kind of frown that could kill a grown man’s dreams.

Did this place not believe in moving the hide curtain aside properly? Knocking on a frame? Dropping a pebble to announce yourself? Anything?

"I-Is something wrong?" Luca’s voice wobbled with the kind of fear seen only in men facing certain doom.

Isabella kept staring at him, her expression sharper than a credit card bill.

"What do you want?" Her tone could slice meat thin enough for hot pot.

Luca straightened his back, clearly terrified but trying to look brave, the poor fool.

"The men building the well said everything is ready!" he announced, voice cracking slightly at the end.

Good. Finally. Maybe they wouldn’t have to fetch mud anymore for drinking water. Progress.

"Where’s Shelia?" Luca suddenly blurted out, his face crumpling into visible worry.

Isabella’s eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious. "She’s sick," she said flatly, sitting up with the energy of a Disney villainess getting ready for a confrontation.

"Why is she sick?" Luca pressed, voice getting louder like a broken volume dial.

Isabella’s entire aura went dark, an invisible doom cloud gathering over her head. She slowly turned her head to look at him, every motion stiff and terrifying.

"Luca..." she called sweetly, the kind of sweet reserved for a judge about to deliver a death sentence.

Luca flinched and stood straighter, almost saluting.

"Did she steal your precious hide skirts?" Isabella asked, pure mockery dripping from every syllable. She even threw in a little scoff, head tilting with the grace of a disdainful queen.

"N-No," Luca finally sputtered out, clearly realizing he had just wandered into very dangerous territory.

"Then why are you acting like someone snatched your family heirloom and ran off into the mountains?" she deadpanned, expression blank but eyes glittering with judgment.

Luca coughed awkwardly and took a careful step back, smiling so nervously it was almost a talent.

"So... should I...?" he tried, voice small.

"Yes, go tell them to wait. I’ll be there soon." Isabella waved her hand lazily, the international gesture for shoo.

Luca turned fast enough to create a breeze, but before he could bolt—

"Wait, Luca."

He froze mid-step, shoulders bunching up to his ears.

"Yes?" he squeaked.

"What’s the commotion outside?" Isabella asked, suspicious as a cat staring at a closed door.

"I think the village got some important visitors," Luca said casually, like he was announcing the weather.

Isabella’s frown deepened until it could probably be measured in meters.

Visitors? Important ones? This smelled dangerous. But also, opportunity.

She waved him away again, watching him scramble out like a terrified squirrel.

"Important visitors..." she muttered, her mind already spinning faster than a gossip auntie’s tongue.

Then her whole face changed in an instant.

Visitors? That meant new eyes. New eyes meant new judgments. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

She couldn’t be seen looking like a half-dead turnip left out in the sun.

Immediate priority: wash up, glow up, level up.

Isabella pressed a hand to her temple, trying to steady herself as the dizziness swirled. Each step was a battle, her body protesting with every inch she moved. It felt like the room was spinning just a little too fast, the shadows clinging to the edges of her vision.

"I did say you’ll need to rest for three days more," Bubu’s voice cut through her disoriented haze, a soft, almost sing-song reminder in her mind.

Isabella grimaced, annoyed. "Does that also explain the sudden irritation at every little thing?" she muttered under her breath, her patience already worn thin.

"Oh no, you were already the type to get easily irritated. This just elevated it," Bubu replied, almost too smugly, before vanishing into the background of her thoughts.

"There’s no way I act like that," Isabella whispered to herself, brushing off the system’s comments. She had more important things to focus on than her own temperament. With a huff, she pushed aside the hide curtain and took a step forward.

And then, she collided—almost crashing straight into a wall of muscle. She froze, eyes flicking upward.

The unmistakable presence of Kian loomed over her, his brow furrowed in a way that was distinctly uncharacteristic for him.

Isabella’s frown deepened instinctively. What was he doing staring at her like that? She could feel the disapproval radiating off him, as though he was about to lecture her on something.

She tilted her head back, lifting her chin to meet his gaze with the same cold stare she often used to dismiss others. "Why are you in my way, staring at me like I’ve committed treason?" she demanded, her voice sharp and challenging.