The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 505: Just give it up. It’s ugly anyway.
Isabella knew something was coming the moment the Mountain Dew Spirit let out that long, ancient-sounding "hmm," even though it looked like a toddler wearing mist as clothing.
The tiny creature hovered there dramatically, wings fluttering slowly, arms folded like some wise old elder judging mortals from the heavens. Except it was only the size of Isabella’s palm and kept darting glances toward the pouch of nuts in her hand like an addict sniffing sugar.
It wants the nuts so bad, Isabella thought dryly.
But the spirit suddenly straightened its tiny spine and said in the most solemn, regal tone it could muster:
"Do not try to bribe me. I am above bribery."
Isabella blinked.
Osiris snorted softly behind her.
The spirit’s eyebrow twitched. "Bribery does not work on ancient guardians such as myself. I am immune to—"
It paused, eyes flicking again toward the nuts.
"—to temptation." 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚
It gulped.
Isabella raised the pouch higher.
The spirit visibly followed the motion like a cat tracking a toy mouse, then violently shook its head and turned away, clearing its throat loudly.
"AHEM. As I was saying—your intentions must be tested."
Isabella let out a tired sigh. "Of course."
The Mountain Spirit pointed at her dramatically. "You will undergo trials."
Isabella crossed her arms. "How many trials?"
"Enough."
"Enough meaning...?"
"Enough."
"Oh, great," she muttered.
The spirit floated back and forth like a pacing grandfather. "I will test your heart. Your emotions. Your sincerity. Your resolve."
Osiris raised a brow. "That seems excessive."
Both spirits turned to glare at him.
The Mountain Spirit spoke with disdain dripping from its tiny voice: "Arrogance distorts your aura."
The wind spirit hissed, "He talks too much."
Glimora nodded vigorously. "Pip!"
Osiris frowned. "I only said—"
"No one asked," Isabella cut in before she could stop herself.
Osiris pressed his lips together and looked away like she had betrayed him personally.
The Mountain Spirit exhaled deeply. "Let us begin."
A small gust of magic swept around Isabella’s feet—light, airy, soft. The world around her shimmered faintly. The fog grew thicker, swirling around her like pale ribbons. For a moment, she lost sight of everything: Osiris, Glimora, the wind spirit, the skeleton, the sky that wasn’t sky.
She stood in a small circle of ground, completely swallowed by fog lit with faint blue light.
The Mountain Dew Spirit appeared in front of her, glowing brighter.
"To receive the dew," it said, "your intent must be pure."
"My intent is pure," Isabella answered. "A life depends on it."
The spirit floated closer. "Even when the journey is difficult?"
"Yes."
"Even when your companion is annoying?"
Isabella paused, then said flatly, "Unfortunately, yes."
Somewhere behind the fog, Osiris muttered, "I heard that."
"Good," she snapped back.
The Mountain Spirit ignored the exchange. "Very well. Show me."
Isabella lifted her chin, waiting for the test to begin.
Suddenly—
The fog shifted.
Blue motes drifted toward her, touching her skin like tiny sparks. The air thickened with something familiar, something warm, something that tugged memories from deep inside her.
Faint images flickered inside the fog.
Shelia’s smile.
Shelia’s laugh.
Shelia waving goodbye before leaving the tribe.
Then—
Shelia lying on a makeshift bed, breath shallow, skin ruined beyond repair.
Isabella’s chest tightened.
The spirit’s voice echoed softly:
"What is she to you?"
"My friend," Isabella said immediately.
"Why do you help her?"
"Because she needs me."
"Even though the mountain might reject you?"
"Yes."
"Even though the path will hurt?"
"Yes."
"Even though the one you walk with tests your patience?"
Isabella clenched her teeth. "...yes."
Osiris’ faint voice drifted in. "I can hear you, you know."
"Stay quiet," Isabella growled at the fog.
She took a deep breath and focused again.
The fog thickened. The images sharpened. The pain in her chest turned real, tangible, like the world was squeezing her heart.
The spirit’s voice softened. "What is your fear, Isabella?"
She closed her eyes.
"That I will be too late," she whispered. "That I will fail her before I ever get the chance to save her."
The spirit studied her silently.
A small, delicate light floated out of Isabella’s chest, hovering in the air like a tiny crystal filled with warmth.
The spirit touched it with one finger.
It didn’t shatter.
It didn’t dim.
It glowed brighter.
The spirit nodded approvingly. "You pass."
The fog around her began to fade—
except something else moved in it.
A large shadow barreled toward her from the side.
Osiris.
Of course.
He rushed forward, swordless but dramatic as ever. "Isabella! Are you okay? I sensed something—"
"STOP!" the spirit yelled.
Osiris froze mid-step, almost tripping over his own feet.
"You nearly disrupted the emotional continuity line!" the spirit scolded, hands on its tiny hips.
"I was trying to help," Osiris muttered.
"We did NOT need your help," Isabella snapped.
The wind spirit added, "You make everything worse."
Glimora chimed in with a soft, judgmental "pip..."
Osiris looked personally attacked. "I was being supportive."
"By charging into a magical test like a confused wild boar?" Isabella said.
He glared. "I wasn’t going to let something happen to you."
If Isabella did nov know Osiris she would have believed he really cared. But she knew him and she knew he only cared about her food.
She rolled her eyes so hard she might’ve strained something. "You were in the way."
"You didn’t have to yell—"
"Both of you be quiet!" the dew spirit cried, covering its ears. "You’re ruining the atmosphere!"
They both shut up.
Isabella took a long breath through her nose.
He almost ruined the test.
I should throw him off this mountain.
I really should.
But despite everything, the test was complete.
Isabella had passed.
The Mountain Spirit floated in a slow circle, arms behind its back, nodding to itself like some ancient sage.
"You have passed the test of emotion," it said grandly.
"Great," Isabella replied. "Now give me the dew."
"Not so fast."
She closed her eyes. "Of course."
"There is one more step," the spirit said importantly. "A sacrifice. Something meaningful."
Isabella raised a brow. "Like what?"
The spirit pointed at her head. "That."
She touched her hair.
Then froze.
Her hairpin.
The one she’d worn specifically because she wanted to look unbothered. Pretty. Confident. Especially in front of Osiris. She wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but... maybe a tiny part of her had wanted to prove that she was anyone’s type and she could dress beautifully even in the Stone Age.
The hairpin glinted faintly in her hand. White jade with silver accents—delicate, elegant, deceptively simple. She had bought it from the system shop.
It had cost 50 points.
FIFTY.
For some people, maybe that wasn’t much.
But for her?
Fifty points was half a small fortune.
Her eye twitched.
The Mountain Spirit watched her reaction with its arms folded, pretending to be patient while clearly staring at the hairpin like give it to me now.
Isabella swallowed. "Do you... absolutely need this one?"
"Yes," the spirit said without hesitation. "That one."
She stared at it for a long time.
Her wind spirit snorted. "Just give it up. It’s ugly anyway."
"It is NOT ugly!" Isabella snapped. "It was expensive!"
Glimora pawed at her foot gently, encouraging.
Osiris crossed his arms. "If it’s part of the trial, you have to do it."
She glared at him. "You don’t get a say."
He glared back. "I wasn’t giving one."
She clenched her jaw.
Fifty points... gone... gone forever...
Finally, she exhaled shakily. "Fine."
Slowly, she pulled the pin from her hair.
Her long strands fell over her shoulders in a soft wave, cascading like silken ribbons. The wind caught a few strands, framing her cheekbones just right, brushing lightly against her jaw. The glow of the mist behind her caught the dark shine of her hair, turning it into a halo of muted light.
Osiris blinked.
Momentarily thrown off.
He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her bossy. He’d seen her roll her eyes so hard they might fall out.
But this?
This was different.
For a second—just one stupid second—she didn’t look like a pain in his ass.
She looked...
...stunning.
He immediately looked away like he hadn’t just been hypnotized.
Stupid hair.
Stupid lighting.
Stupid beautiful woman.
He coughed into his fist. "Tch."
She didn’t notice.
She held out the hairpin with stiff fingers.
The Mountain Spirit beamed and snatched it immediately with both hands.
"My treasure," it whispered dramatically, hugging it to its tiny chest.
"My pain," Isabella whispered back.
Everything was quiet.
The fog swirled gently around them.
The glowing stones shimmered faintly beneath their feet.
The Mountain Dew Spirit floated upward, holding the hairpin like it was royalty.
It stared at Isabella.
Then at the hairpin.
Then at Isabella again.
Its expression shifted—mischievous, thoughtful, calculating.
Finally, it narrowed its eyes and hummed:
"...hmm."
