The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 243 - 244: It even smells… peppery

Isabella saw her coming—mmh hmm. That fire in Isolde’s eyes, the way her hands were curled into fists, and the storm in her steps? Yeah, she saw all of that.

But did she move?

Nah uh.

She didn’t even flinch.

Instead, with a soft exhale like this was just another Tuesday, Isabella calmly adjusted her grip on Glimora, lifting her baby beast with one arm and shifting ever so slightly to the side. Not out of fear, of course, but just enough for dramatic flair.

You see, Isabella had recently noticed something about her beloved Glimora. A certain... quirk.

A very smelly quirk.

Glimora farted when nervous.

And not just any fart. No, no. These were aggressive, hellfire-tier, what-did-you-feed-this-creature farts. And ever since that one time Glimora had let loose after hearing thunder (apart from the first time she purposely did it to Isabella)—and Isabella had nearly choked on her own breath—they had only gotten worse.

So when Isolde lunged at her, fangs bared and fury burning—

Isabella gave a sweet smile, tilted her head, and gently turned Glimora around, putting the beast’s fluffy butt directly in Isolde’s line of attack.

And Glimora?

Oh, poor thing.

She clocked what was happening almost instantly.

Her wide, sparkly eyes darted toward the furious blur heading their way. Then back to Isabella. Then back again.

Wait a minute...

Her little limbs scrambled against Isabella’s hold, trying to escape the very obvious betrayal.

But Isabella held fast, pretending not to notice her baby’s panic.

This is for science, she told herself with a straight face. Educational purposes.

Glimora’s pupils trembled. Her cheeks puffed. She whined.

And then—

PFFFFFTTTTTTT.

It wasn’t just a sound. It was an experience. A violent, fiery whoosh of sulfur-scented wind burst from Glimora’s behind like a curse sent straight from a volcano.

Isolde had been a step away from sinking her nails into Isabella’s shoulder when it hit her. Full blast. A gust of raw, ancient evil. A fart with an aftershock.

She let out a bone-curdling scream, loud enough to jolt the air.

But not just because of the smell.

Oh no.

The fart came with flame.

A small but real puff of fire danced along the edge of the air current—just enough to lick at the front of Isolde’s messy dark hair.

"My HAIR!" she shrieked. "Oh gods, my HAIR is on FIRE!"

She bolted sideways, slamming into the stone wall, desperately smacking at her now-smoking curls like a deranged pigeon trying to put out its own feathers.

Isabella blinked, eyes wide. "Wow, baby," she cooed with mock admiration, looking at Glimora. "You’re full of surprises today."

But Glimora was not basking in the glory of her accidental superpower.

Oh, no.

The beast was already sobbing, fat tears rolling down her tiny cheeks as she buried her face in Isabella’s shoulder, shaking like she’d committed an unforgivable crime.

"Waaa..." she wailed, nose sniffling.

"Aww, baby, nooo," Isabella whispered, trying hard—so, so hard—not to laugh. "I’m sorry, baby. I swear, I didn’t mean to scare you like that."

Which was an absolute lie, but you know... motherhood.

She hugged Glimora tighter, stroking her back with soft, reassuring motions as the poor beast let out hiccuped sobs, staining Isabella’s outfit with tears and ash-scented fluff.

Meanwhile, Ilyana had her hands clamped over her nose, her face caught in an expression of horror and sympathy.

"Isolde," she gasped, gagging slightly. "Are you... are you okay? Your hair... it smells like—like roasted herbs left in the sun too long."

"DON’T LOOK AT ME!" Isolde screamed, face red with fury and mild smoke damage.

Ilyana gave her sister a wide-eyed glance before her gaze snapped back to Isabella.

"What—what do you feed her?" she asked, horrified.

"Everything," Isabella said proudly, giggling as she cradled Glimora in her arms like a baby with nuclear potential. The little beast was still sniffling, her teary face buried in Isabella’s collar bone, but the moment she got a kiss on the snout, her pitiful wail turned into a soft, hiccuped sigh.

"There, there, baby," Isabella cooed, planting a few more kisses on Glimora’s ears. "Even if you blew a hole through the roof, you’d still be my sweet little chili pepper."

The man beside Ilyana scrunched up his nose, rubbing at it like the scent had physically slapped him. "It even smells... peppery," he muttered, blinking fast like he was starting to see ghosts.

Ilyana nodded slowly, looking like she regretted breathing. "It smells like burnt herbs in a cave full of dung."

"It’s not that bad," Isabella chirped.

Everyone stared at her.

Even Glimora gave her a side-eye sniffle.

"Okay, fine," Isabella admitted. "It’s awful. But she’s still adorable."

Just as she was about to snuggle Glimora again, her head shot up, eyes locking on the unknown man who was still frozen beside Ilyana. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you still doing here?" she asked, her tone sharp enough to slice bread.

The man immediately stiffened. His gaze flicked to Glimora, then back to Isabella’s icy glare, and he swallowed hard like his next breath depended on saying the right words.

"I’ll wait outside," he said quickly, already backing away like she might sic the fart-beast on him again. And just like that, he vanished through the curtains.

Ilyana hesitated, caught between staying to explain and fleeing the deadly cloud. Her wide eyes landed on her sister—who was pacing like a raging bull, hair still smoldering at the tips.

"Oh no—" Ilyana gasped.

"What is it now?" Isolde snapped, her voice hoarse, her hands frantically fanning her scalp.

"Heh," Isabella giggled behind her hand, eyes twinkling. "You don’t know how to properly put out fire, do you?"

And right on cue—FWOOSH—the top of Isolde’s hair caught flame again, a faint crackle filling the room like firewood popping.

"AH! GOSH, I HATE YOU!" Isolde shrieked, flailing toward the entrance like she was being hunted by flaming bees.

She disappeared through the curtain, and the silence that followed was almost holy.

"We’re sorry for not announcing ourselves," Ilyana said quickly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she turned and bolted out after her sister.

And then, just when Isabella thought peace had finally returned, Bubu floated down upside-down like some smug, glowing fairy.

"Congratulations on your beast unlocking, farting fire!" Bubu sang.

Isabella blinked. Slowly. She looked up from the now softly whimpering Glimora, her eyes deadpan.

Her face said everything.

"Bitch, really?"