The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts
Isabella was supposed to be sipping champagne at a luxury spa, not waking up in the middle of a forest. Worse, a SYSTEM had attached itself to her like some clingy ex, spouting nonsense about survival, quests, andâoh, hell noâmanual labor.
"System, I was NOT built for the wilderness! My ideal âroughing itâ experience involves a five-star hotel with bad WiFi!"
Now, instead of lounging in silk robes, sheâs being ordered to farm? To hunt?
"A farming quest? You want meâa city girlâto grow food? System, I once killed a cactus by overwatering it. This is NOT my calling!"
And donât even get her started on the hygiene situation.
"You want me to bathe in a cold river? Darling, I require warm water, scented oils, and an ambience! What do I look likeâsome barbarian?!"
Unfortunately, the localsâbig, muscular beastmenâdonât seem to understand the concept of self-care. The women? Neglecting their skin like itâs a crime to be radiant. The men? Walking hygiene disasters.
"Ladies, if your man can smell you before he sees you, we have a problem."
"You see this? This is lotion. It exists so you donât look like a dried-up leaf. Use it."
"A beard should be majestic, not tragic. Let me fix it."
And the beastmen? They donât just stare at her like sheâs an oddity. No, they hover. They smirk. They lean in too close, fangs flashing with amusement.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she huffed, crossing her arms.
The panther grinned, his tail flicking. "Because youâre fascinating when youâre annoyed."
No, absolutely not. She was not here for this nonsense.
"If you have time to stare, you have time to moisturize."
She didnât ask to be here. She didnât ask to be their savior. But if she has to suffer through this world, sheâs making everyone around her suffer lessâthrough skincare, style, and some serious attitude.
"If I hear one more âWe donât season our food here,â Iâm launching a war."
"If you have time to gossip, you have time to do squats."
"You want to impress a woman? Start with not smelling like the battlefield."
Survival isnât just about fighting monsters; itâs about looking good while doing it. So what if the System keeps throwing impossible quests her way?
"What do you mean âyou canât skip questsâ?! Since when?! Where is the skip button?! I demand a skip button!"
But somewhere between dodging ridiculous quests and fixing these peopleâs tragic grooming habits, Isabella found herself in situations. Uncomfortable, heart-racing situations.
Like being trapped against a tree by the red python, his red eyes half-lidded as he murmured, "You talk too much, little star. Should I silence you?"
Like waking up with the lion lordâs fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders, his deep voice gruff, "You shiver in your sleep. Iâll fix that."
Like the phoenix watching her every move, his burning gaze searing into her skin as he mused, "You cause chaos wherever you go, but I find that I donât mind."
Oh, hell. No. She was not about to fall for four beastmen. She was too pretty for this much stress.
"If you insult me again, Iâll make sure your soul needs a beauty upgrade."
"I refuse to be disrespected by anyone who dresses like an unwashed tree branch."
And yet, when a rival tribe came to challenge her, when danger lurked too close, those same beastmen stood beside herâsmirking, taunting, fighting for her.
"A beastman growled at me today. I growled back. He ran. I am the alpha now."
Isabella isnât just surviving. Sheâs thriving. And this world better keep up.