The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 247 - 248: Oh, this just got good

Valen blinked once. Then twice. Then stared at the floor like it might offer him guidance.

"I... I’m pursuing Opehlia."

The words were soft. Hesitant. But they carried enough weight to shift the entire room.

Isabella’s head tilted in slow motion, her brows rising in an arc of sharp suspicion. She blinked at him once, then twice—almost mirroring him—before her lips parted just a little, and she turned to Glimora with a single silent look.

The beast, curled up by her feet, blinked back up at her. One ear twitched, then the other—like little antennae picking up tea.

"Oh, this just got good," Isabella whispered dramatically, eyes gleaming as she leaned slightly forward like she was front row at a stage play.

Glimora blinked again, then tilted her head and looked up at Valen like: So... you wanna die or... should I give you five seconds to run?

"You’re what?" Isabella finally asked, her voice honeyed with danger, the kind that came with a knife behind the back and a smile on the lips. "Pursuing... Opehlia?"

Valen, clearly unaware that he’d just offered himself as tribute in a high-stakes interrogation, nodded once. His posture straightened like he thought maybe looking taller would help. It didn’t.

"She’s kind. And soft-spoken. And I... admire her."

"Oh-ho." Isabella stood up slowly, brushing her dress down like a general straightening her uniform before going to war. "Oh, sweetheart. You picked the wrong confession booth."

Glimora rose too, mimicking her mama’s serious face, tail swishing like she was warming up for something catastrophic. She took two steps, stopped directly beside Isabella’s foot, and sat again with such deliberate ceremony it felt like a gavel had been dropped. The beast stared up at Valen with a face that said: Proceed. But know that I bite.

Isabella started pacing. Her fingers tapped against her lips, eyes narrowing like she was cracking open an ancient prophecy.

"Right," she muttered, eyes locked on Valen like he was both the question and the answer. "Tell me, Valen. Do you believe in sharing food, or hoarding it for yourself?"

Valen blinked. "I—sharing, of course?"

Isabella spun dramatically and pointed at him. "Green flag!"

Valen flinched. "What’s that?"

"Don’t worry about it," she said quickly, turning again. "Next question: Let’s say you and Opehlia are in a field. There’s a wild fruit beast—teeth like spears. Do you a) run and scream, b) throw her at it and hope it gets full, or c) protect her even if it means losing an eye?"

Valen opened his mouth.

She raised a brow.

He hesitated.

Her brow rose higher.

"C!" he blurted. "Obviously C!" fгeewebnovёl.com

She nodded slowly, watching him the way a mother hawk watches her hatchling take its first flight. "Mmhmm. Took you a while."

"Sorry, I just—"

"Beige flag," she declared.

"I don’t... understand."

"Neither do I half the time, but it felt right," Isabella said with a shrug.

Glimora made a tiny chirping noise, then plopped back down and snuggled into Isabella’s leg, clearly enjoying the show.

"Alright, moving on." She paced again. "Would you rather fight one thousand tiny bat-lizards or one oversized angry chicken?"

Valen looked physically pained. "I—I don’t know if—"

"Wrong answer. That was a trick question." She waved a hand. "Red flag."

"I didn’t even pick—!"

"Exactly," she said, spinning back around. "Next! Do you believe in emotional vulnerability or do you bottle your feelings and become a resentful cave hermit?"

"What... what is emotional vulnerability?"

"Red flag," she muttered to Glimora, who squeaked in agreement.

Valen was sweating now. The back of his neck was visibly damp. Glimora tilted her head again, sniffed the air, and sneezed once.

"Do you believe women are only good for mating, child-rearing, and soup-stirring?"

"No!" Valen said quickly, hands flying up like he’d just been caught stealing.

"Hm." Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Green flag."

Valen sighed in relief.

"But with beige undertones," she added.

His mouth opened. Closed. No sound came out.

She strutted back to him, tilting her head slowly to the side, like she was analyzing a strange, sentient rock. Glimora followed her steps, stopping just behind her like her miniature shadow.

"And how tall are you?" she asked abruptly.

"What? Uh. I—I don’t know. Tall?"

Isabella squinted.

"Beige flag," Isabella declared, crossing her arms with a slow, deliberate blink. "You’re too humble. Tall men usually know exactly how tall they are and won’t shut up about it."

She gave him a look—equal parts judgment and pity—as if he had just failed the simplest test in existence. "Seriously, if you were a real tall man, you’d have said something ridiculous like ’twelve and a half armstones—but the half matters.’"

Glimora made a tiny pfft sound, which might’ve been a sneeze... or a scoff.

Isabella leaned slightly closer, squinting up at him like she was inspecting a suspicious fruit. "You’re supposed to weaponize your height, not apologize for it. Come on. This is basic warrior-boy etiquette."

Valen stood there, blinking, looking like a large confused tree that had just been scolded for growing wrong.

Glimora blinked up at Isabella and mimicked her head tilt, like she, too, was disappointed in the height-energy ratio.

He blinked. "I’m sorry?"

"Don’t be," Isabella said sweetly. "Just try to have more self-obsession next time. Confidence matters."

Valen looked like he was reconsidering his entire existence.

"Okay, next question." Isabella clapped her hands once. "Let’s say Opehlia is crying. Do you: a) cry with her, b) ask what’s wrong and listen, or c) tell her to stop crying and call her ’too emotional’?"

"B?" he said cautiously.

Isabella froze. "You said that like it was a guess."

"No! I—I meant it! Definitely B."

She nodded slowly. "Alright. Green flag. But it’s hanging on by a thread."

Glimora gave him a side-eye like: I’m watching you, tree man.

Isabella folded her arms and studied him for a long beat, her eyes dragging from his shoulders to his toes, then back up to his face. He stood stiff like a soldier, visibly unsure whether he was about to be knighted or banished from the palace entirely.

"Well," she said finally. "I suppose you passed. Barely."

He let out a slow breath like he’d just survived battle.

"But," she added, raising a finger, "you still haven’t answered the most important question."

Valen’s eyes went wide. "There’s more?"

Isabella stepped closer, squinting. "Who are you to Opehlia, and why exactly are you looking for her?"

Valen didn’t speak immediately.

Glimora’s eyes narrowed.

The hide curtain behind him shifted.

Someone was coming.