CHAPTER 430: CHAPTER 430: I TOLD HIM I HATED HIM, I DIDN’T MEAN IT

For a long moment, Isabella said nothing.

Her body felt hollow — like everything inside her had been scraped out and replaced with cold air. The Lunareen were still moving quietly through the lagoon, their silvery tails gliding beneath the water, their faint songs echoing like lullabies meant for someone else.

Bubu hovered beside her, its screen flickering weakly in the mist. The system’s glow was soft, but the silence between them felt sharp.

Then, finally, Isabella’s voice cracked through the quiet, low and trembling.

"You knew."

Bubu didn’t move. Its light blinked once. Then, calmly, it said, "Yes. I knew."

Something inside her snapped.

Her breath hitched; her grip on Glimora tightened. "You—knew?" she repeated, louder this time. Her tone rose with disbelief, fury, grief. "You knew, and you didn’t tell me?"

"It was expected," Bubu replied evenly.

Isabella blinked. Her laugh came out broken, trembling. "Expected?" she echoed, her voice pitching higher. "Expected, Bubu? What part of this is expected? That I wake up one day and find out from strangers that I’m—" Her voice caught. She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Her hands were shaking now. Glimora let out a soft whimper, sensing her distress, but Isabella didn’t stop.

"You knew this meant everything to me," Isabella’s voice trembled, low but sharp enough to cut through the mist. "You knew how scared I was—how much I was trying not to fall apart—and you said nothing!"

Her voice cracked, raw emotion spilling through. "You just watched me... watched me break down, beg him to stay away, cry myself sick—and you didn’t say a word. Not one word, Bubu!"

She shook her head, laughing bitterly as tears gathered in her eyes. "You always know when to lecture me, when to scold me, when to throw a task in my face—but the one time I actually needed you to warn me, you were quiet."

She pressed a trembling hand to her chest. "You could’ve told me. You should’ve told me."

Bubu’s screen flickered again. Its tone didn’t change. "It is not my role to interfere with emotional outcomes, Host. I am here to assist your survival, not your decisions. You never asked."

That last part hit her like a slap.

Her eyes widened. "You’re serious?" she whispered. "You’re actually serious right now?"

She took a trembling step forward, glaring at the system’s floating screen. "You think that’s an excuse? That’s your defense? I didn’t ask? What was I supposed to ask, Bubu? ’Hey, by the way, am I carrying someone’s child now?’ How could I possibly have known?"

"I assumed—"

"Don’t assume anything!" she snapped, cutting it off. "You knew! You knew this would happen, and you still let me—"

Her throat closed.

Her words fell apart.

She pressed her hand to her chest, breathing unevenly, trying to steady herself, but it wasn’t working. Her heart was beating too fast. Her vision blurred.

"Bubu," she whispered, voice breaking, "you could’ve told me. You could’ve warned me. You could’ve said something."

Bubu’s voice softened, just slightly. "I could have, yes. But you would not have listened."

"Don’t you dare tell me what I would or wouldn’t do," Isabella said hoarsely. "You’re not me."

Silence again.

The mist curled around her ankles, glowing faintly blue in the light of the lagoon. The Lunareen had drifted away, their laughter distant now, leaving Isabella standing in the middle of something too beautiful for the pain clawing through her chest.

Bubu’s tone was low when it spoke again. "You cannot undo what has already been done. You survived the Lost Fawns. You survived the marking. You can survive this, too."

Isabella stared at the little glowing screen, her lips trembling, tears building in her eyes. "I don’t want to survive anymore, Bubu," she whispered. "I just... want to rest."

The system didn’t reply.

Her laugh came out soft, tired, almost hollow. "You’re supposed to be my system. My partner. But sometimes, I think you forget I’m human. That I feel things. That I break. That I’m not a machine."

Bubu’s light dimmed for a heartbeat, flickering like a pulse. "I do not forget," it said quietly. "But I cannot change the nature of this world. Only prepare you for it."

"Prepare me," she muttered. "You call this preparing me?"

Glimora stirred in her arms, nuzzling against her chest, letting out a small coo. The sound pulled Isabella back a little, grounding her. She looked down at the tiny creature and brushed her fingers over its soft fur, forcing a small smile through her tears.

"I’m sorry, baby," she whispered. "I’m just... tired."

The system stayed silent, floating a few feet away now — the space between them thick and heavy.

Isabella turned from it, slowly sinking down onto the grass that lined the edge of the lagoon. The blades were soft and damp beneath her legs. She pulled Glimora closer, curling her knees to her chest, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

The faint glow of the water painted her skin silver.

Her eyes were red. Her breathing was shallow.

Bubu hovered behind her, flickering uncertainly as if it wanted to speak again — but it didn’t.

Isabella stared ahead, her gaze distant, unfocused. The Lunareen’s songs echoed faintly in the distance now, haunting and sweet, like lullabies meant for a sorrow she didn’t know how to name.

Her hand drifted to her abdomen, resting there without thinking.

A soft, broken laugh slipped out. "You’ve got to be kidding me," she whispered.

Tears welled up again, but she didn’t wipe them away this time. She just let them fall, one by one, silently.

"I told him I never wanted to see him again," she whispered to no one. "I told him I hated him."

The words cracked.

"I didn’t mean it."

Her voice trembled so quietly, even the mountain breeze seemed to hush for her.

She pressed her forehead to her knees, shaking slightly as Glimora curled tighter in her arms, humming softly like she was trying to comfort her.

The system’s faint light lingered behind her, quiet, unreadable.

But Isabella didn’t look at it. She didn’t want to.

For once, she didn’t match its words with her own. She just stayed silent, letting Bubu’s light flicker in the background while her heart sank into the quiet.

And under the pale light of the mystical lagoon, with tears streaking her face and a storm of emotions caged inside her, Isabella sat there — holding Glimora close — realizing that, somehow, she was no longer just fighting for herself.

She was fighting for a life she didn’t even know she wanted.

And she had no idea how to face it.