CHAPTER 453: CHAPTER 453: THIS IS THE APPROPRIATE AMOUNT OF PANIC FOR THE SITUATION!

Isabella didn’t move for a full ten seconds. She just sat there—frozen, eyes wide, lips parted—like her brain had quietly exited her body to file a complaint with the universe.

Two hundred.

Two hundred.

Her breathing hitched, then quickened, then broke completely.

"Oh my god," she muttered, staring at the fire. "Oh my god, I’m a lizard farm. I’m—no. No. Nope. Nope." She stood up abruptly, almost tripping over a rock. "I can’t. I won’t. I—"

"Host, breathe," Bubu began calmly.

"Breathe?!" Isabella snapped, pacing in frantic circles. "Bubu, I’m about to become an incubator! Don’t tell me to breathe!"

Glimora, perched on a log, tilted her small white head in confusion. She let out a worried squeak and hopped over to Isabella’s feet, wrapping her tiny arms around her ankle as if that would stop her from combusting.

Isabella threw her hands in the air. "You don’t understand, Bubu! I am not built for this! I’m not some ancient serpent queen or—whatever the hell Cyrus is! My body can barely handle spicy food!"

"Statistically speaking—"

"Don’t you dare finish that sentence!" she barked. "If I hear statistically speaking one more time, I swear, I’ll throw you off this mountain."

Bubu blinked. "I am incorporeal."

"I’ll find a way!"

She started pacing again, muttering under her breath. "Two hundred... two hundred babies... what does that even look like? That’s like—entire classrooms of children! That’s a small country!"

Glimora squeaked softly.

"No, Glimora, don’t try to make me feel better. This is serious! I can’t even babysit one child without losing my mind! What if they all start hissing at me at once? What if they crawl everywhere? What if—oh my god—they shed?"

Her eyes widened in terror at the thought.

"What if I have to pick up two hundred baby snake skins?!" she cried out, clutching her head. "I’ll need a therapy appointment, Bubu! I’ll need like... twenty therapists! And a broom!"

"Host," Bubu said patiently, its glow dimming as if sighing.

"Don’t host me!" Isabella snapped. "You should’ve warned me! You should’ve said, ’Hey, Isabella, maybe don’t go around kissing snake men unless you want to populate an entire ecosystem!’"

"You never asked," Bubu replied simply.

She stopped dead, turning to glare at the floating cube of light.

"Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I had to fill out a questionnaire before falling in lo—"

She froze.

Her own words hung in the air like smoke, fragile and unguarded.

The fire crackled softly beside her, Glimora’s big round eyes blinking up at her as if to say oh no, you said the thing.

Isabella blinked fast, forcing a laugh that came out too high. "—before, you know, falling in a ditch, or whatever," she said quickly, waving her hands. "Yeah, that’s what I meant. A ditch. Totally a ditch."

"I would’ve provided one if you had requested—" Bubu began helpfully.

"Stop. Talking."

She dragged both hands down her face and let out a guttural groan that could have awakened ancient spirits. "I’m doomed. I’m actually doomed. I’m going to die surrounded by tiny hissing voices calling me ’mommy.’ This is karma. This is divine punishment."

Glimora clambered up her leg again and perched on her shoulder, rubbing her cheek against Isabella’s. Isabella sighed, petting her absentmindedly. "I know, baby. I know. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? You’d finally have siblings to bully."

Glimora squeaked, eyes gleaming like she absolutely would.

Isabella groaned louder. "See?! Even she’s excited!"

Bubu remained silent for a while, just watching her spiral. Isabella stomped around the fire, muttering curses, ranting to herself, throwing imaginary punches in the air.

"This world is evil," she grumbled. "Everything wants me dead. Or pregnant. Or both. The goats tried to eat me, the snake women almost killed me, and now soon I’ll become a daycare center!"

"You are overreacting," Bubu said finally.

"I’m underreacting!" she shot back. "This is the appropriate amount of panic for the situation!"

The cube said nothing else.

Five full minutes passed. Isabella’s pacing slowed. Her voice softened from shouting to mumbling, then to low whispers as she sat back down near the fire, rubbing her face. Her energy was gone—drained by her own drama.

"I just..." she muttered, her voice small. "I didn’t ask for this, you know? I didn’t ask to come to some beastly world and get stuck with glowing eyes and a talking cube. I was just... living."

The fire popped, the sound almost sympathetic.

For a while, she just sat there quietly, letting the heat warm her face. Glimora crawled into her lap, curling up like a little ball of fluff. Isabella stared at her, feeling the familiar sting of tears behind her eyes.

"Maybe I’m being stupid," she murmured softly.

"Not stupid," Bubu said quietly.

She blinked up, surprised by the gentleness in its tone.

"Just... dramatic," it added, voice teasing.

She scowled through her tears. "Oh, wow. You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue."

"I know."

Silence fell again—peaceful this time. The firelight painted long shadows across the grass. The mountain air was cool but not cruel, brushing gently through her hair.

For the first time since she’d woken up on this cursed mountain, Isabella let herself breathe.

And then—

"Maybe," Bubu said slowly, almost like it was thinking out loud, "your case will be different."

Isabella’s head shot up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. "What did you just say?"

"I said," Bubu repeated patiently, "maybe your case will be different."

Her eyes widened, sparkling with desperate hope. "Different how? Please, tell me it’s the good kind of different and not like, ’You’ll give birth to spirit snakes that fly.’"

Bubu didn’t answer immediately.

"Bubu," she pressed, leaning forward. "Talk to me. What do you mean?"

The cube flickered faintly, its glow reflecting in her eyes. "Cyrus," it began, "is not like most beastmen."

Isabella frowned. "Yeah, I’ve noticed. He’s tall, terrifying, and somehow looks really cute even when he’s angry."

"I mean biologically," Bubu said, ignoring her comment. "Most serpent beastmen follow the natural cycle of reproduction. They lay hundreds of eggs every few decades as part of instinctual regeneration. But Cyrus... doesn’t follow that pattern."

"Why?" she asked quietly.

"Because he was not born of nature," Bubu explained. "He was created by divine interference—half beast, half divinity. His bloodline is ancient and irregular. Unlike others of his kind, he does not release cycles, nor does he produce offspring in mass clusters. His line only passes through emotional binding—through genuine connection."

Isabella blinked, stunned silent for a moment.

"So... wait." She rubbed her temples. "You’re saying he’s, what, like a limited edition snake god?"

Bubu hummed. "You could say that."

Glimora chirped softly, blinking at her with curious eyes.

Isabella exhaled, trying to process. "So that means... what exactly? That maybe I won’t have, you know, a hundred crawling baby noodles?"

Bubu’s glow dimmed slightly, almost as if smiling.

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Don’t you dare get quiet again. I’m too emotionally unstable for suspense."

"I’m saying," Bubu began slowly, "there’s a chance your pregnancy will not follow normal serpent patterns."

Her breath caught. "Meaning...?"

"That your count may be significantly lower."

Her eyes widened. "Wait. You’re not saying there’s a possibility I’ll have over 200 babies?"

Bubu’s light flickered, exasperated. "No. I’m saying you might not even have up to ten."