The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 154: Is it really nessacary? For the...well to be created?

"A well is a deep hole dug into the ground to reach underground water," Isabella said, raising her voice just enough so everyone could hear, her tone crisp and deliberate, melodic in its clarity. "The water comes from beneath the surface—clean, filtered naturally through layers of soil and stone."

She took a few steps to the side, motioning gracefully to the large stone-lined structure behind her. "This is the one we built. It doesn’t look like much now, but it’s powerful. Unlike the rivers and streams you’re used to, this pulls from a deeper, safer source."

The villagers were quiet—staring, blinking, shifting in place as if trying to make sense of it. None of them dared interrupt this strange little woman who spoke with such strange little words. But her tone, her posture—it was commanding. Even the skeptical ones stayed quiet.

"I noticed," Isabella continued, eyes scanning the crowd, "that your current water sources... well, let’s just say they’re not the best."

Her words earned a few side-eyes, a few raised brows, and one overly dramatic gasp from someone in the back, but she kept going, unbothered.

"The rivers are muddy after rain. The streams dry out when it gets too hot. The water smells off some days. Few of you make attempts to boil it—good effort—but that’s not always enough. And for those of you who don’t?" She gave a meaningful pause. "You’ve been getting sick more than you need to."

A soft wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd. People were whispering to each other now, glancing at their neighbors, thinking back to moments that might prove her point.

"I built this because I care," Isabella said plainly, hands clasped in front of her. "I live here too. I see what you drink, what you give your children, and it’s not right. It’s not safe. And something had to be done."

She took a deep breath, letting the silence draw out for just a second longer before continuing.

"Now that the well’s been purified, thanks to the help of someone far stronger than me—" she glanced briefly at Cyrus, then back at the crowd— "it’s clean. Safer than what you’ve had before. No more worrying if the water will make you sick or if there’ll be enough left after the next dry season."

The villagers were wide-eyed now. Some looked amazed. Others confused. A few clearly thought she was crazy. And one very tiny child had just started poking the stone base of the well like it might explode.

"I know you all have questions," Isabella finally said, folding her arms with a knowing smile. "Ask away."

The moment Isabella finished speaking, the villagers erupted like a pack of wild animals. Questions, grunts, partial words, and weird hand flails came flying from every direction, like someone had just thrown a rock into a hornet’s nest.

Isabella’s eyes twitched.

Her lips slowly curled into a frown, and the disgust on her face was so palpable, even the loudest villagers started trailing off.

"Enough," she said, her tone calm but sharp, slicing right through the chaos.

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin slightly. "If you want to act like you’ve been raised in the woods by squirrels, go right ahead—but I’m not answering anything unless you raise your hand like a civilized person. One at a time."

Silence.

A beat passed, and just like that, they believed her. One by one, arms started to lift sheepishly into the air. The transformation was instant and, quite frankly, a little satisfying to watch. frёeωebɳovel.com

Kian was quietly amazed, a small, impressed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Even the two male visitors couldn’t hide their surprise.

This woman—she was truly something else. Not that they doubted it. From the moment they first laid eyes on her, they’d already suspected as much.

Opehlia held Glimora close, a proud smile blooming on her face. And Cyrus, as always, wore that soft, gentle smile that never seemed to leave him.

Isabella scanned the forest of hands and pointed to a young man standing toward the middle of the group. He looked nervous but stepped forward with a quick nod.

"Is it really necessary?" he asked, voice uncertain. "For the... well to be created, I mean?"

Isabella gave a slow blink. Ah, one of those questions.

"Let me ask you something," she began, shifting her weight slightly as she clasped her hands together like a teacher about to deliver a well-rehearsed lecture. "Have you ever taken a drink from the river, only to end up squatting behind a bush two hours later, questioning all your life decisions?"

Some snorts echoed from the back, but the young man looked stunned, blinking slowly.

"Exactly," Isabella said, taking advantage of the pause. "You all work hard. You hunt, you farm, you take care of your families. Why on earth should getting clean water be something that makes you sick? Shouldn’t that be the bare minimum in a functioning village?"

She gave a dramatic sweep of her hand toward the well. "This isn’t just a hole in the ground. It’s security. It’s health. It’s long-term. No more counting on the rain gods to be nice, or fishing out dead frogs before scooping a drink. You get clean water—every time."

The young man flushed slightly but nodded in quiet agreement.

Another hand shot up, and Isabella pointed at them. A middle-aged woman stepped forward and asked, "How do we take the water to use?"

Before she could respond, a familiar voice called out, and her eyes lit up instantly.

Luca, breathless but grinning, walked over carrying a wooden bucket, carefully carved and still slightly damp from whatever finishing touches he’d given it. Isabella’s hands shot out like a child seeing cake.

"Good question," she said cheerfully, reaching for the bucket. "You’re going to love this—"

The moment her fingers closed around the handle, her smile faltered just a little. The bucket was... heavier than she expected. Not unliftable—but definitely more than she’d mentally prepared for.