The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 579: No. I am not falling in love with anyone

Chapter 579: Chapter 579: No. I am not falling in love with anyone

The stew went down the wrong way.

Isabella coughed so hard her eyes watered. Some of the soup splashed onto her hand and the fur blanket.

Zyran instantly panicked. "Careful, careful," he said, quickly taking the bowl from her. He grabbed the cloth by the bedside and wiped her fingers, then dabbed at the blanket with surprising care than shocked even Isabella herself.

Was this man possessed?

Isabella blinked. She had been ready to hit him, but his serious face made her pause.

"Why are you so attentive all of a sudden?" she muttered.

"You are carrying my future little rivals," Zyran said without shame. "I have to take care of them so they will not hate me when they grow up."

Isabella stared at him. "Who said they will be your rivals?"

Zyran thought for a moment. "You are right. They will probably side with me. I am more fun."

He raised the spoon again and blew on it twice before holding it in front of her lips.

"Eat slowly. Do not spill. Your clothes are already ugly, it would be a pity to make them smell too."

"Zyran," Isabella said warningly.

He smiled and tilted his head. "You look cute when you are angry."

She wanted to hit him again. Instead, she sighed and took another bite. The stew was warm and soft, and for some reason it tasted better when someone else fed her. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

He watched closely. When a bit of broth slipped down the corner of her mouth, he immediately wiped it away with the cloth. His touch was gentle. Careful. Not like the noisy, wild beast that usually chased her around.

He really is like a psychotic dog most of the time.

But at least he is a helpful psychotic dog.

By the time she finished, the bowl was empty and her belly felt comfortably full. Zyran took the bowl away and set it on the table.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked. "I can bring water. Or carry you. Or fight someone."

Isabella swung her legs off the bed. "No. I am going to have my bath."

Zyran’s eyes lit up. "I can help you with that."

He sounded very sincere.

Isabella’s face turned dark.

She picked up the nearest object, which happened to be a small wooden comb, and threw it at his head.

"Get out!"

Zyran ducked. The comb grazed his hair and clattered against the wall.

He burst into laughter. "So fierce in the morning. I like it."

"Out!" Isabella repeated.

Zyran ran to the door, still laughing. "Fine, fine. I will wait outside. Do not miss me too much."

He slipped out of the room before she could grab something heavier.

The stone room fell quiet again.

Isabella turned back and found Glimora sitting upright on the bed, staring at her with round eyes. Her little tail flicked slowly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Isabella asked.

Glimora’s eyes clearly said, Mama, are you falling in love?

Isabella snorted. "No. I am not falling in love with anyone."

Glimora blinked.

"...Maybe he is not that bad," Isabella added reluctantly. "But still no. I am busy. I have no time to fall in love."

Glimora tilted her head, unconvinced.

Isabella grabbed her bath things and headed toward the washing area. The morning air outside the room was cool and fresh. After a quick bath, she changed into clean clothes, tied her damp hair back, and felt her energy slowly return.

Today, she had work to do.

She went back to the stone room, picked up a small woven bag with some dried herbs and tools, and stepped outside again.

The village was already awake.

Smoke rose from cooking fires. Children ran barefoot on the packed earth, chasing each other and laughing. Males carried tools on their shoulders, heading toward the fields beyond the houses. Females talked in small groups while sorting materials.

Isabella walked through the stone path, greeting people as she passed.

"Good morning, Isabella."

"Isabella, the seeds you gave us sprouted."

"My child keeps talking about the colorful threads you made yesterday."

Isabella smiled and nodded. "Eat well. Rest when you are tired. Do not overwater the roots."

Her heart felt light. The village no longer looked like the struggling place it had once been. There was life everywhere. Movement. Hope.

She headed toward the planting fields beyond the last row of houses. The soil there had been turned over, dark and rich. Rows of new crops stretched neatly under the morning light. Males worked carefully, just as she had instructed, while Cyrus directed them with calm gestures from the side.

Isabella did not worry. Cyrus always remembered every instruction she gave. Still, she wanted to see it with her own eyes later.

As she walked, she checked the fences, the paths, and the small irrigation ditches they had dug. The beastmen she passed bowed their heads in respect. Some of them still looked at her with open admiration, as if she were something sacred.

It felt strange, but not bad.

She had just turned a corner near one of the side paths when a hand grabbed her wrist.

Isabella almost screamed.

She was pulled into a shaded space between two stone walls. Her back brushed against cool rock.

Her heart jumped to her throat. She opened her mouth, ready to yell, when she saw the face in front of her.

"Osiris!" Isabella glared. "Are you crazy? What are you trying to do?"

Osiris lowered his head slightly, his long lashes casting shadows over his eyes. He pursed his lips like a scolded child.

"I do not like it here," he said.

His voice was low. Almost sulky.

He looked like he was about to cry.

Isabella stared at him.

This was a grown man. On the mountain, he had been loud, clingy, and bold. Now, in the village, he was quiet. Withdrawn. Like a dog that had been drenched by cold water.

She suddenly felt the urge to laugh.