The Spoilt Beauty An

Isabellawassupposedtobesippingchampagneataluxuryspa,notwakingupinthemiddleofaforest.Worse,aSYSTEMhadattacheditselftoherlikesomeclingyex,spoutingnonsenseaboutsurvival,quests,and—oh,hellno—manuallabor.“System,IwasNOTbuiltforthewilderness!Myideal‘roughingit’experienceinvolvesafive-starhotelwithbadWiFi!”Now,insteadoflounginginsilkrobes,she’sbeingorderedtofarm?Tohunt?“Afarmingquest?Youwantme—acitygirl—togrowfood?System,Ioncekilledacactusbyoverwateringit.ThisisNOTmycalling!”Anddon’tevengetherstartedonthehygienesituation.“Youwantmetobatheinacoldriver?Darling,Irequirewarmwater,scentedoils,andanambience!WhatdoIlooklike—somebarbarian?!”Unfortunately,thelocals—big,muscularbeastmen—don’tseemtounderstandtheconceptofself-care.Thewomen?Neglectingtheirskinlikeit’sacrimetoberadiant.Themen?Walkinghygienedisasters.“Ladies,ifyourmancansmellyoubeforeheseesyou,wehaveaproblem.”“Youseethis?Thisislotion.Itexistssoyoudon’tlooklikeadried-upleaf.Useit.”“Abeardshouldbemajestic,nottragic.Letmefixit.”Andthebeastmen?Theydon’tjuststareatherlikeshe’sanoddity.No,theyhover.Theysmirk.Theyleanintooclose,fangsflashingwithamusement.“Whydoyoukeeplookingatmelikethat?”shehuffed,crossingherarms.Thepanthergrinned,histailflicking.“Becauseyou’refascinatingwhenyou’reannoyed.”No,absolutelynot.Shewasnothereforthisnonsense.“Ifyouhavetimetostare,youhavetimetomoisturize.”Shedidn’tasktobehere.Shedidn’tasktobetheirsavior.Butifshehastosufferthroughthisworld,she’smakingeveryonearoundhersufferless—throughskincare,style,andsomeseriousattitude.“IfIhearonemore‘Wedon’tseasonourfoodhere,’I’mlaunchingawar.”“Ifyouhavetimetogossip,youhavetimetodosquats.”“Youwanttoimpressawoman?Startwithnotsmellinglikethebattlefield.”Survivalisn’tjustaboutfightingmonsters;it’saboutlookinggoodwhiledoingit.SowhatiftheSystemkeepsthrowingimpossiblequestsherway?“Whatdoyoumean‘youcan’tskipquests’?!Sincewhen?!Whereistheskipbutton?!Idemandaskipbutton!”Butsomewherebetweendodgingridiculousquestsandfixingthesepeople’stragicgroominghabits,Isabellafoundherselfinsituations.Uncomfortable,heart-racingsituations.Likebeingtrappedagainstatreebytheredpython,hisredeyeshalf-liddedashemurmured,“Youtalktoomuch,littlestar.ShouldIsilenceyou?”Likewakingupwiththelionlord’sfur-linedcloakdrapedoverhershoulders,hisdeepvoicegruff,“Youshiverinyoursleep.I’llfixthat.”Likethephoenixwatchinghereverymove,hisburninggazesearingintoherskinashemused,“Youcausechaoswhereveryougo,butIfindthatIdon’tmind.”Oh,hell.No.Shewasnotabouttofallforfourbeastmen.Shewastooprettyforthismuchstress.“Ifyouinsultmeagain,I’llmakesureyoursoulneedsabeautyupgrade.”“Irefusetobedisrespectedbyanyonewhodresseslikeanunwashedtreebranch.”Andyet,whenarivaltribecametochallengeher,whendangerlurkedtooclose,thosesamebeastmenstoodbesideher—smirking,taunting,fightingforher.“Abeastmangrowledatmetoday.Igrowledback.Heran.Iamthealphanow.”Isabellaisn’tjustsurviving.She’sthriving.Andthisworldbetterkeepup.