The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 43: Keep An Eye On Her

Isabella stood there, hands on her hips, waiting for a response. Her sharp eyes flickered between Kian and Asael, her lips pressing together in growing impatience.

Kian, ever the unpredictable king, turned his head slowly—and locked eyes with Asael.

Immediately, every pair of eyes in the room followed suit, pinning the poor man in place like he was a sacrifice to the gods.

Asael’s stomach sank.

Why? Why did his king keep doing this to him?

Had he wronged Kian in some way? Did he unknowingly offend the heavens? Why was it always him suffering while this strange woman got to be so unbothered?

His gaze darted around the room, seeking an escape, but there was none. The air was thick with expectation.

Ophelia and Shelia leaned in. Even Isabella, despite being the one who forced this situation on him, had an eager glint in her eye.

He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh... well..." He licked his lips, tasting the lingering coolness. "It... does have a minty feel..."

Isabella nodded expectantly. "And?"

She wasn’t going to let him off easy.

He hesitated before sighing. "...And my mouth does feel... clean."

Silence.

Then—

Ophelia grinned like she had just won a bet. Shelia nudged her with a knowing look, clearly enjoying all of this far too much.

Asael, however, wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Isabella beamed, rocking on her heels like she had just secured a victory. "See? I told you! Revolutionary, isn’t it?"

Asael didn’t answer. He was still processing his suffering.

Kian, still unreadable, finally broke his silence.

"I saw the tools you made for... well, making yesterday."

His tone was calm, but there was something unreadable in his expression.

Isabella’s smile didn’t falter, but her interest piqued.

Ophelia and Shelia exchanged glances. Even Asael, despite still recovering from his ordeal, felt the shift in the atmosphere.

Isabella clapped her hands together, looking far too pleased with herself. "Ah, yes! That reminds me—I’ll be starting on the well today." She flashed Kian a cheeky grin. "Finally, Your Majesty, you’ll get to see that I actually know what I’m talking about."

Ophelia giggled behind her hand, and even Shelia’s lips curved slightly in amusement.

Kian, however, simply paused. His sharp blue eyes locked onto Isabella as if assessing her words, then after a long moment, he gave a short nod.

That was it. No praise, no remark, no show of approval—just a nod.

Isabella sighed dramatically. "You know, for someone who clearly likes what I’m doing, you sure don’t show it."

Kian ignored her and instead glanced down at the chewing stick still in his hand. He turned it over between his fingers, thinking. Then, finally, he spoke.

"How many men would you need to make a large batch and distribute this to the entire village?"

Silence.

Ophelia and Shelia blinked. Asael, who had been trying to blend into the background to avoid further suffering, snapped his head up in shock.

Isabella raised a brow, fighting back a smirk. Oh?

The mighty King Kian was impressed.

Oh, he wouldn’t say it out loud. Of course not. That would be too easy. But she could tell. The fact that he was even considering mass-producing her toothpaste meant he saw its value.

Isabella placed a hand on her hip, tilting her head playfully. "Now, now, we’ll discuss that later."

Kian’s brow twitched. "Why?"

"Because I only made a sample with nothing. If I’m going to make enough for a whole village, I’ll need actual tools—like mortars for pounding, containers for storage, and other things."

She made a vague motion with her hands. "Unless you’d rather I mix everything on the ground like a true savage?"

Kian exhaled through his nose. "Fine."

Isabella grinned.

Kian gave her one last look before dismissing her with a flick of his fingers. "Go."

Isabella didn’t need to be told twice. She turned on her heel, and Ophelia and Shelia eagerly followed her, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.

The moment they were gone, Kian’s calm demeanor remained, but his next words were directed at Asael.

"Keep an eye on her."

Asael visibly tensed. His soul left his body for a brief second.

Again?

His lips parted, ready to argue, to complain, to say why always me? But then he saw Kian’s deadpan expression and promptly shut his mouth.

"...Understood," he muttered, shoulders slumping. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned and followed after Isabella like a man walking toward his doom.

As soon as Asael left, Kian’s gaze lingered on the empty space where Isabella had stood.

And then—

His lips twitched.

It wasn’t a smile. Or at least, not quite.

But if one looked closely enough, they’d see it—a subtle, almost invisible curve.

It faded as quickly as it appeared.

With a final glance at the chewing stick in his hand, Kian leaned back against his throne, deep in thought.

The sun hung high in the sky, beating down mercilessly as Isabella led the ten men through the untamed landscape, searching for a suitable water source.

Sweat slicked her back, but she barely noticed, too focused on scanning the land with the trained eye of someone who knew what she was looking for.

Damp soil. Reeds. Low-lying areas.

She crouched near a patch of land where the earth looked darker, pressing her palm to the ground. It was cool to the touch.

A good sign. Nearby, tall green plants swayed gently in the breeze—water-loving plants. This had to be it.

She straightened and dusted off her hands before turning to the group of men who had been watching her carefully the entire time.

Some of them still looked doubtful, as if wondering why they were listening to a small, strange woman in the first place.

Too bad for them. She had no time for doubt.

"This is the spot," Isabella announced, planting her hands on her hips. "We’ll dig a shallow hole here and leave it overnight. If it fills with water, then congratulations—we have a well."

The men exchanged glances, processing her words.

Then, without hesitation, they moved to obey.

Breaking the Ground

The process wasn’t easy.

Without modern tools, everything had to be done the hard way.

The men used primitive picks—sharpened rocks carefully tied to sturdy wooden handles with strips of dried sinew and plant fibers, ensuring a firm grip as they struck the hard earth.

The first few strikes barely made a dent, but with enough force and repetition, the ground began to crack and loosen.

Isabella thought they’d struggle, but their strength was quiet impressive. Now she knows why 10 men were something small for Kian to give her.