Isabella glanced down at the bowl in her hands, her lips twitching as she looked at Glimora, who was eyeing her curiously. The little creature’s round eyes stared up at her, full of anticipation.
She took in the scene around her. Cyrus, ever calm, watched her intently, though there was a faint tension in his posture. Shelia and Luca were practically bouncing with excitent, their eyes full of hope. Ophelia’s face, on the other hand, was a round, worried ss, her eyes already shimring with potential tears.
Isabella smiled as she inspected the dish—stew with roasted at, boiled eggs, and wild vegetables. It wasn’t gourt, but it wasn’t exactly bad, right?
She scooped up a piece of egg with a bit of stew and took a bite.
Her face shifted.
The change was subtle at first, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Her lips tightened, and her brows drew together as she chewed.
Everyone went still. Cyrus stopped what he was doing, watching her with a slight edge of concern. Shelia and Luca looked even more eager, if that was possible. Ophelia’s lip quivered, her wide eyes darting to Isabella’s face.
Isabella, however, was completely still. She swallowed and looked back at them, the tension in her expression obvious.
She picked up a piece of at and popped it in her mouth.
This ti, she didn’t even try to hide her reaction.
Her face scrunched further.
A long, heavy silence fell over the group.
"Do you not like it?" Cyrus’s voice, quiet and almost tentative, cut through the silence.
Ophelia’s face was already crumpling. She whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. "We’re sorry... we didn’t think it would taste like that..."
Isabella’s eyes flared with frustration. "You didn’t know?!" Her voice shot out like a whip, her tone sharp enough to cut through the air. "What do you an, ’didn’t know’? It’s fine!"
She set the bowl down with force, the noise louder than expected. It was a miracle the thing didn’t break.
And then... she snapped.
"Are you all completely blind?" she shouted, making them all flinch. "Did you really think I’d just eat this and pretend it’s terrible?"
The group stared at her, mouths agape. Even Glimora stopped moving, clearly caught up in the drama.
"You... you didn’t like it?" Ophelia whispered, her round face full of worry as the tears finally spilled over.
"No, you idiots," Isabella said, raising her voice with mock exasperation. "I love it. It’s perfect. Perfectly delicious."
Luca blinked in confusion. "Wait, so... you think it’s good?"
Isabella flashed a wicked grin, relishing the mix of emotions in the room. She could see the lightbulbs flicker on above their heads. "Yes. I an, really good." She practically purred the words out, letting the truth sink in like a sweet, sweet victory.
Shelia’s eyes widened, her hands coming up to her mouth in shock. "You’re saying it’s... perfect?"
Isabella nodded, sitting back with a satisfied smirk, the mystery of her expression now turning into sothing akin to playful joy.
Cyrus, at last, broke into a soft smile, the weight on his shoulders lifting as if she had just granted him a pardon. "Thank you," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Ophelia’s teary eyes suddenly sparkled, and she dashed forward to hug Isabella, her round little body almost knocking the bowl from her hands. "You’re the best! Thank you! We were so worried..."
Isabella chuckled, finally setting the bowl down, a genuine smile creeping across her face. "You all did amazing. This is better than anything I could’ve cooked, honestly."
Luca let out a low whistle, his expression finally softening. "I still don’t get it, but... glad to know we didn’t ss up."
Isabella waved her hand dismissively. "Eh, it’s not about the food. It’s about the effort."
The entire group breathed a collective sigh of relief, and even Glimora let out a small, satisfied hum.
Cyrus watched her quietly, the warmth in his gaze unmistakable. Isabella smirked back at him, her playful mood shifting to sothing a little more... comfortable.
The silence wasn’t awkward anymore. Instead, it was peaceful. Maybe even a little cozy.
In that mont, Isabella realized sothing—this was her team now. And they’d earned her trust.
And maybe—just maybe—the food was perfect after all.
Everyone leaned in, eager to dive in and finally taste the stew they had worked so hard on. It was a mont of quiet victory for all of them.
And for once, Isabella couldn’t help but think... maybe this little village wasn’t so bad after all.
"You should leave now. Everyone else is eating, and you did most of the work, so join them," Isabella said to Cyrus, a soft smile playing on her lips.
He had insisted on waiting to eat until she was done, until she was comfortable. It was sweet, really. But it also felt... unfair. She didn’t want him to skip his al just because she was taking longer than usual.
She tried everything to get him to join the others, even threatening him, but he wouldn’t budge. Every ti, he insisted on staying with her, and only when she was finished, he’d take the bowl from her.
That ant, of course, that she had to rush through her food, which she didn’t mind, except... well, she didn’t exactly enjoy rushing her al. She wanted to be able to savor it, but there was no ti for that now. The food would get cold, and Cyrus would stay hungry.
Finally, she handed him the bowl. He took it gently, that quiet, sweet smile of his—small, but there, softening his otherwise intimidating face.
It caught her off guard, how a beastman who looked like he could swallow her whole was actually so considerate, so patient.
He gave her that smile again, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange tug in her chest. She didn’t expect that kind of kindness from him.
With the al settled, Isabella went over the rest of the tasks for the day.
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