CHAPTER 454: CHAPTER 454: NO. I DON’T CARE. I DON’T CARE ABOUT HIM

For a long time, Isabella didn’t speak.

She just... stared at Bubu.

Her expression was unreadable—part shock, part confusion, part that quiet storm of emotion that never looked good on her face because she didn’t do quiet well. She opened her mouth once, closed it, then looked down at the ground like it had all the answers.

Bubu floated there in its usual calm way, but even the system’s glow seemed softer, waiting for her reaction.

"So," she murmured finally, her voice barely above a whisper, "you’re saying Cyrus isn’t... normal."

"That would be an accurate conclusion," Bubu replied.

Isabella blinked, exhaling a shaky laugh. "Hah. Of course he’s not. Of course the one man I let close to me just has to be some divine half-snake hybrid mystery project from the gods."

She ran a hand down her face, laughing again, but this time it wasn’t funny. It was the tired kind of laugh—the one people gave when they were two seconds away from crying or murdering someone. "I should’ve known. I mean, it’s not like he screamed ’I’m a simple man’ with his glowing pink eyes and temper and holy bloodline and—ugh!"

Her voice cracked at the end, surprising even herself. She dropped onto a rock beside the pond, the water reflecting the faint glow from her necklace. "He’s hiding something," she whispered. "I could feel it. Every time he looked at me... it wasn’t just—" She stopped herself, biting her lip.

Glimora peeked up at her from her lap, blinking wide curious eyes. Isabella sighed. "What am I even saying? It doesn’t matter. He’s not my problem anymore."

The words came out sharp, but her chest ached right after.

She clenched her jaw. "No. I don’t care. I don’t care about him. I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to think about how he looks, or how he—" She stopped again, eyes narrowing in irritation at her own thoughts. "God, I hate my brain."

Bubu, ever the quiet observer, tilted slightly as if analyzing her like a lab specimen. Its gentle hum broke the silence. "Isabella, your emotional readings are inconsistent."

"I’ll show you inconsistent," Isabella muttered, crossing her arms.

The system floated closer, its glow shifting faintly blue. "You appear conflicted."

"I appear done."

Bubu blinked. "Then why are you still thinking about him?"

"Because you keep talking about him!" she snapped.

"Actually, you—"

"Shut up."

Silence followed.

Only the soft hum of the pond, the chirping of distant insects, and Glimora’s occasional squeaks filled the air.

Then, completely out of nowhere—like her brain just took a hard left turn—Isabella gasped softly and stood up, eyes wide.

"But—"

Bubu paused mid-glow. "But?"

Her expression turned oddly serious, lips parted, eyes bright. "But I wanted a hundred babies!"

There was a solid, heavy pause.

Bubu flickered once, like it was buffering. Glimora blinked twice, tail twitching.

The system finally asked, "I’m sorry—what?"

"You heard me!" she cried, throwing her hands dramatically in the air. "I wanted them! All one hundred and fifty of them! Maybe even two hundred! I was ready to be a legend!"

Glimora gave her a flat stare that could only be described as utter judgment.

"What?" Isabella shot back, glaring at the small creature. "Don’t look at me like that! I mean it!"

Glimora squeaked, crossing her tiny arms, her furry face scrunching like she was thinking, weren’t you just screaming about dying two minutes ago?

Isabella gasped like she could hear the thought. "That was before I processed it!"

Bubu made a sound that suspiciously resembled a sigh. "Host, you were panicking."

"I wasn’t panicking! I was... emotionally overwhelmed!"

"That’s panic."

She ignored it, already pacing again, her words spilling fast. "I mean—just imagine it! One hundred little snake babies crawling around. They’d all look adorable! They’d hiss when they’re hungry, and maybe they’d have little shiny scales. And I could line them up, feed them all at once, maybe get matching tiny baskets—"

"Host."

"—and I’d give them cute names like Mini Me One, Mini Me Two—"

"Host."

"—or better, Days of the Week! Monday, Tuesday—oh! Sunday could be the cranky one!"

"ISABELLA."

"What?!"

Bubu floated dangerously close now, its glow flickering between blue and white like it was genuinely worried about her sanity. "Are you... feeling well?"

"I’m perfectly fine," she said, smiling too brightly. "I’ve just accepted my destiny as the Mother of Serpents."

"Two minutes ago you said you would rather die."

"Well, two minutes ago I didn’t realize how cute they’d be!"

Bubu blinked. "This is irrational."

"Irrational is having a floating glowing cube tell me I might lay two hundred eggs."

"Correction: you will not lay—"

"Don’t correct me when I’m spiraling!"

Glimora hid behind her tail, her wide eyes darting between them like a spectator in a tennis match she didn’t want tickets for.

"I could have built an empire," Isabella continued dramatically, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. "A family line. A kingdom of scales! People would’ve sung songs about me! Isabella the Great—Queen of Baby Snakes!"

"Host—"

"Oh, don’t host me, I’m grieving a lost opportunity!"

Bubu dimmed completely for a second, the magical equivalent of a long, exasperated sigh. "You wanted two hundred children?"

"Well, maybe not all at once!" she said defensively. "I’m not crazy."

Bubu’s silence said otherwise.

She pouted, folding her arms. "Fine. Whatever. Maybe it’s for the best. Raising that many would’ve been a nightmare. Imagine the feeding times, the crying, the little fangs..."

Glimora made a sympathetic squeak.

"But still!" she snapped again, pointing dramatically at the sky. "The potential! Gone! Snatched away from me!"

"Host, you are scaring Glimora."

"No, she’s fine," Isabella said, crouching to stroke the trembling little creature. "She’s just in awe of my passion."

Glimora blinked once, unimpressed.

Bubu floated quietly, its glow dimmed, analyzing her behavior. For once, the system had no quick remark or snide comment—just... quiet observation.

Maybe it finally realized that Isabella wasn’t just being dramatic. This was her way of coping—of laughing at her pain before it swallowed her whole.

After a while, when the fire crackled low and Isabella had finally run out of steam, Bubu spoke softly.

"Get your things, Host."

She blinked, glancing up from where she sat stroking Glimora’s fur. "Huh?"

"It’s almost the dark hour," Bubu said. "It’s best if we leave now."

Isabella sighed, brushing stray hair from her face. "Already?"

"Yes. The mountain changes after sunset. You don’t want to be caught in that again."

Her playful expression softened. She glanced at Glimora, then at the glowing pond, then at the floating cube.

For a brief second—just one—she looked like the Isabella she used to be.

"Alright," she murmured quietly. "Let’s go."

As Isabella packed her things, her voice trailed off into the mist — faint laughter fading between the rustling leaves.

Maybe she didn’t notice it then — the rag she’d used to wipe her hands slip from her pack and fell beside the pond.

Hours later, when the mountain grew heavy and still, something stirred.

A shape unfolded from the darkness — long, skeletal limbs bending at impossible angles, its hollow frame swaying like smoke. It stooped low, clawed fingers brushing the dirt until they found the forgotten thing.

It turned it over, inspecting it with eerie curiosity. Then, with a slow inhale, it sniffed the air.

And the moment it caught her scent—

—it bolted into the night.