The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 56: How would you feel about... a little change of plans?

Chapter 56: Chapter 56: How would you feel about... a little change of plans?

The air between them thickened.

Isabella’s fingers still tangled in Kian’s short, white hair, her nails lightly grazing his scalp as she absentmindedly rubbed the strands between her fingertips.

Kian remained perfectly still.

Not because he was indifferent.

No—because something was happening. Something he did not like.

His pulse was too loud, his breath too deep, and every slight movement she made—every single accidental brush of her skin against his scalp—sent something primal curling deep inside him.

Her scent—sweet, warm, maddening—wrapped around him like a vice.

And then, she shifted closer.

So close.

Kian could feel her breath ghosting against his throat.

The way her chest nearly—nearly—pressed against him.

Isabella, still blissfully oblivious to the dangerous tension, continued murmuring, her voice soft, hypnotic, addictive.

"With the right care, your hair would be even softer," she whispered, fingers lazily sliding down the back of his neck. "I’d run oils through it... massage them into your scalp... let it soak into every strand."

Kian’s jaw clenched.

She had no idea what she was doing to him.

Or did she?

Her eyes flicked up to meet his.

And that was when it happened.

A slow, devastating realization settled over Isabella.

The heat between them. The dangerous proximity. The way his muscles had gone rigid, like a predator holding itself back from pouncing.

A soft blush bloomed across her cheeks.

But—she didn’t pull away.

No, she refused to be the first one to break.

Her confidence was unshaken.

She had the audacity to keep eye contact.

She had the nerve to let her fingers linger.

And Kian... he was drowning in it.

His world had narrowed down to only her.

Then, just when the tension was about to snap—

Isabella whispered, low, teasing, sinful—

"You can close your eyes, you know... It’ll feel even better."

Kian yanked himself back so fast it was almost inhuman.

He cleared his throat, expression unreadable, but his body betrayed him—his breathing wasn’t steady, his fists had clenched, and something dark and unknown flashed in his blue eyes.

Isabella blinked up at him innocently.

As if she hadn’t just turned the most powerful man in this village into a mess.

Kian, regaining his composure with impressive speed, straightened up and said in the flattest tone possible:

"I hope you can do all you promise."

And then, without another word—he turned and left.

Isabella watched him go, a slow, victorious smile tugging at her lips.

Oh, this was going to be so fun.

Isabella leaned against the stone slab, still basking in the thrill of what had just happened. Her fingers idly twirled a strand of her own hair as she replayed the moment Kian had yanked himself away, all stiff and unreadable.

A laugh almost escaped her.

The great and mighty lion king, speechless because of me?

She was about to bask in her victory a little longer when movement in the distance caught her eye.

Ophelia.

The girl was struggling—carrying what looked like an entire tree’s worth of giant leaves.

Isabella pushed off the stone, preparing to help, but then—she paused.

And in that moment, an earth-shattering realization hit her.

Why was she still doing this manually?

She had a system.

Why suffer?

The answer? Pride.

But pride didn’t get you endless materials, soft bedding, luxurious clothes, and a life of ease.

And why was she making herself suffer just for a few measly points?

No.

It was time to change tactics.

She needed points. A lot of them.

If she just put in a little effort, she could buy materials that never ran out.

No more bending over collecting leaves like a peasant. No more shaping clay with her bare hands. No more waiting for things to dry in the sun like some primitive cavewoman.

It was time to start playing smart.

A slow, mischievous smile crept across her lips.

"Oh, Ophelia, darling!" she called, her voice sickly sweet.

Ophelia, panting from exhaustion, barely managed to lift her head. "Y-Yeah?"

Isabella clasped her hands together. "How would you feel about... a little change of plans?"

Ophelia’s chubby cheeks puffed up, her lips trembling as she clutched the giant leaves like they were her lifeline. Her big, watery eyes looked up at Isabella, silently screaming: Are you seriously telling me I carried all this for nothing?!

Isabella’s heart squeezed.

She had no idea how Ophelia had managed to drag these monster-sized leaves all the way here. And honestly? She didn’t want to know.

If Ophelia, who was immensely stronger than Isabella, looked like she was on the verge of collapsing, that meant these leaves were dangerously heavy.

If Isabella had tried to carry even one, she’d probably be crushed to death on the spot.

That was not how she planned to die.

Clearing her throat, she quickly reassured her, "Oh no, no, no, don’t cry! I’m still going to use them. Promise."

Ophelia sniffled. "Really?"

Isabella nodded frantically. "Yes! I swear on my very comfortable—I mean, very noble existence."

Ophelia narrowed her eyes at that choice of words, but at least she looked a little less like she was about to burst into tears.

Satisfied, Isabella turned her attention inward.

It was time. freewebnøvel.com

Her gaze darkened with determination as she pulled up her system screen.

"Bubu, give me some random tasks I can immediately complete and earn good money from."

Meanwhile Kian who had just gotten back to his Palace approched his room and pushed aside the makeshift curtain he took a step inside his stone-walled room, only to pause at the sight before him.

Zara was sprawled on the cold, hard ground, her body dramatically twisted as if she had been suffering in silence for hours.

Her face was streaked with tears, and her hair was a mess, as if she had purposely ruffled it to look extra pitiful.

Before he could take another step, she sprang to life like a resurrected corpse.

"Kian!" she wailed, launching herself at him.

She threw her arms around his waist, clinging to him like a leech. Her nails dug into his back, her face burying itself against his chest as she sobbed loudly.

It was so loud, Kian wondered if she was trying to let the entire village hear.

His hands barely moved. He did not return the embrace.

Instead, his expression remained cold, his eyes emotionless as he stared down at her.

And then, with a voice as icy as the stone walls around them, he asked—

"What is the meaning of this?"