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The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 643: I thought you only knew how to bully me with quests
He did not argue, but his fingers, which were resting on the table, twitched slightly, as if he wanted to catch her wrist and keep it still. He did not do it though. Recently, he had been more... restrained.
This made Isabella suspicious.
Later that afternoon, she caught him in a rare moment of stillness.
Kian stood in the courtyard outside the stone palace, watching Cyrus train. The red snake man had stripped down to a thin shirt that Isabella had just newly introduced to their village, his breath steaming in the cold as he moved through a series of precise, sharp motions.
His spiritual power flickered around him like faint pink smoke, condensing, stretching, shrinking again as he forced it into different shapes.
He was not trying to be powerful today. He was trying to be careful.
Every time the aura around him threatened to surge too high, he stopped, gritted his teeth, and drew it back. Sweat mixed with the cold on his skin. His muscles trembled slightly from the repeated effort.
Isabella watched from the window for a long moment, her heart tightening. She could feel his frustration even from here. The memory of that battlefield version of him flashed in her mind again. The way his eyes had gone bright and inhuman.
Now, he was desperately trying to keep that from happening again.
She turned away only when the babies kicked her simultaneously, protesting her tense mood. She rubbed her belly and muttered, "Alright, alright, I will stop staring obsessively at your father. Jealous little beans."
Somewhere outside, Cyrus paused and glanced instinctively toward the palace, his lips curving faintly even though he did not know why.
On the spiritual level, Bubu was also busy.
{Ding!}
{Daily Quest: Gentle Goddess Morning Stretch. Host is advised to do fifteen minutes of light movement around the room to promote blood flow and reduce back pain. Reward: small increase in overall stamina and bonus snack suggestion list.}
Isabella looked at the invisible notification, expression blank.
"I refuse."
{...Host.}
"Did you not hear me? I said I refuse. My feet are swollen. My back hurts. My mood is not good. If you dare to give me another quest, I will bite you," she said calmly.
Bubu fell silent for a moment.
{Ding...}
{Quest cancelled.}
Isabella froze, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"...Just like that?"
{Yes.}
Usually, when she rejected a quest, Bubu would whine, nag, and bargain for at least ten sentences, if not thirty. It would call her lazy, remind her of rewards, and proudly explain how each task would make her "stronger, prettier, and more likely to slap faces in the future."
This time, it had backed down in one breath.
"Bubu," she said slowly, "are you sick?"
{Systems do not get sick,} Bubu replied, a little guilty. {It is just that after calculating current danger level, I decided it is better not to stress host further. You are carrying important living creatures. You are also under mental pressure. For now, building your emotional stability is more important than doing silly jumps.}
Isabella blinked. That actually sounded... reasonable.
It also made her hair stand up slightly.
"So you can act sensible," she muttered. "I thought you only knew how to bully me with quests."
{Host, do not spread rumors. I am very reliable,} Bubu huffed. {For now, we will pause combat related training quests. You can still bully Osiris and make Cyrus blush. That is enough spiritual exercise.}
She snorted, but a small warmth spread in her chest. She knew this system was not human, but sometimes it felt more considerate than some people she had known in her previous life.
"Fine," she said. "Then let us both be lazy together until these little ones come out."
{Agreement received,} Bubu replied happily. {System will also pretend to rest while secretly monitoring danger. Host can focus on eating, sleeping, scolding people, and occasionally being cute.}
"Occasionally?" Isabella repeated. "You mean always."
{Always, always,} Bubu corrected immediately. {Host is the cutest.}
She smiled in spite of herself. The heaviness in her chest lightened a little.
That evening, the sky turned a deeper blue, and the village quieted as the last of the smoke from cooking fires faded into the dark. Torches were lit along the walls, their flames steady and bright.
Inside the stone palace, Isabella finished another round of small tasks, which mainly involved telling Osiris to sit when he got too restless and kicking Cyrus out of the kitchen when he tried to help and almost burned the stew with his distracted thoughts.
When she finally had a moment to herself, she walked slowly out to the inner corridor to breathe.
She did not expect to find Kian there, leaning against a pillar.
He was not wearing his cloak, only a simple dark tunic, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair was slightly messy, as if he had just shaken it out. The lamplight cast golden lines along his profile.
For once, he was not moving, not giving orders, not checking walls. He was simply standing there, eyes closed, as if letting himself rest for a brief stolen moment.
Isabella’s steps softened automatically.
For a heartbeat, she just watched him. She noticed the faint tiredness at the corners of his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed a little heavier than before. Being a village chief, a lion king, and the unofficial pillar of everyone’s trust had left its traces.
Then, as if sensing her presence anyway, Kian opened his eyes.
When he saw her, something in his expression loosened. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but she caught it.
"You should be inside," he said gently. "It is colder in the corridor."
Isabella walked over and leaned against the pillar beside him, mimicking his posture. "If you can stand here and look handsome, I can stand here and look beautiful," she replied. "It is only fair."
His lips quirked slightly. "You always think like this."
"Of course. I am balanced and reasonable."
They stood side by side for a moment in comfortable silence. The torches outside cast shifting light through the carved windows, patterning the floor with warm lines.







