The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 54: Kian’s Visit

Isabella scrolled through the list, eyes flicking over item after item.

Self-Heating Cooking Pot – 400 pts

Auto-Stirring Spoon – 300 pts

Ever-Sharp Chef’s Knife – 350 pts

And so much more.

But her gaze stopped at the first item.

A self-heating cooking pot.

Her stomach churned.

She could have had this. She could have been cooking with ease instead of struggling over an open fire like a prehistoric caveman. But no. This damn system had decided she needed to suffer—forcing her to make clay pots by hand instead.

Her fingers twitched. She was one second away from starting a rant.

But then... reasoning hit her.

She sighed.

Fine.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. As much as she hated to admit it, she had learned a lot—how to make cooking tools, how to find materials, how to survive.

So instead of complaining, she swallowed her words and let it go.

For now.

She exhaled, shaking off her irritation, and finally asked, "Bubu, are these items... special in any way?"

[Yes.]

She raised an eyebrow. "How?"

[The original item will never run out or spoil. But if you recreate a replica, it will.]

Her lips parted in surprise. That... wasn’t bad.

In fact, that was amazing.

She nodded in understanding. "Alright. I can work with that."

Just then, she heard footsteps approaching.

It was Ophelia and Shelia.

Without hesitation, she dismissed Bubu and prepared to face them.

The sun was setting now.

The sky had turned into a breathtaking blend of deep oranges and soft purples, casting a golden glow over the village. The air had cooled, making it the perfect time to wind down after a long day of working with clay.

The girls had finally finished making the last batch of pots, carefully placing each one on the stone slabs beside their earlier creations.

For a moment, they just stood there, staring.

The pots—their pots—looked sturdy, well-shaped, and downright impressive.

Shelia placed her hands on her hips. "Gods, we’re good."

Ophelia nodded in agreement. "Too good."

Isabella smirked. "Naturally."

Though Shelia and Ophelia weren’t entirely sure how these pots would be used yet, they couldn’t deny the sense of pride swelling in their chests.

It felt good to make something with their own hands.

After another long moment of admiration, Shelia stretched her arms and let out a satisfied sigh. "Alright, I should go. My brother will throw a fit if I stay out too long."

Isabella arched a brow. "You? Afraid of your brother?"

Shelia scoffed. "Not afraid. Just... avoiding unnecessary trouble."

Ophelia giggled. "Which means she’s afraid."

Shelia rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

With that, she bid them goodbye, waving lazily as she disappeared down the path leading to the Palace.

Now, only Isabella and Ophelia remained.

The sky had darkened further, and the soft hum of crickets and night creatures filled the air.

Ophelia let out a tired sigh. "I feel sticky. And dirty."

Isabella glanced down at herself. Clay dust clung to her skin, and her hands felt dry and rough.

She made a face. "Same. We need a bath."

Ophelia nodded eagerly. "Let’s go."

Without wasting another second, the two of them headed toward the river, eager to wash away the day’s work.

By now, the entire village knew.

A woman—a mere woman—was creating something called a well.

The rumors spread like wildfire.

People whispered about Isabella, the strange, knowledgeable outsider who claimed she could pull water from the ground without needing to fight off monsters or risk contamination.

"It’s impossible," some scoffed.

"She must be lying," others muttered.

Yet, curiosity burned in their eyes.

And it wasn’t just the Lion Tribe’s village that had caught wind of the news.

Other villages—wolf tribes, eagle tribes, even a few rogue panther clans—had started hearing about a goddess-like woman appearing in a small Lion Tribe village, promising to create things never before seen.

Of course, most dismissed it as nonsense.

For now.

The trouble hadn’t started yet.

But Isabella had a feeling it was coming.

The well itself was almost complete, just needing a few finishing touches.

Isabella had sent Ophelia to gather huge leaves, the biggest she could find.

She had a new mission in mind.

Footwear.

Her poor, abused feet had suffered long enough. Walking barefoot every day had turned them rough, and she refused to let them stay like this.

She had soft, pretty feet before—and she was going to get them back.

And while she was at it, she’d make some for Ophelia and Shelia too.

Because, honestly, how were these women surviving without shoes?

Alone now, Isabella stood beside her clay creations, admiring them.

She had to admit... they looked good.

A slow, satisfied smirk formed on her lips. Not bad at all.

She crouched down, gently tracing her fingers over the smooth surface of one of the pots, feeling a sense of accomplishment rise within her.

She had come to this village with nothing.

And now, she was creating.

It felt... powerful.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps.

Her body tensed.

She turned her head—

And saw Kian approaching.

Alone.

Her heart stuttered.

Reflexively, she straightened up.

Isabella took in his look.

His white hair, his broad shoulders, those striking blue eyes that held a piercing sharpness.

Tall. Strong. Powerful.

And way too good-looking for his own good.

Then her gaze dropped to his chest—his bare, broad chest.

But this time, she noticed something she had somehow failed to fully process before.

Tattoos.

Intricate, swirling patterns that started from his neck and traveled downward, disappearing beneath the waistband of his skirt.

Down to where, exactly?

She had no idea.

But she kind of wanted to find out.

Her eyes lingered too long.

Too long.

She suddenly realized he had stopped moving.

He was standing directly in front of her.

Crap.

She snapped out of it, shaking off the trance, her usual confidence rushing back like a shield.

He had come alone.

She quickly glanced behind him, half-expecting some guards or nosy villagers to follow, but no one did.

Relief settled in her chest.

Alone.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

This might just be her chance.

Her chance to seduce this stone-hearted king.