A long, like a really longggggggg pause followed.
Nothing. Not a single peep.
Isabella blinked.
Oh. So now he wanted to play dumb?
"Don’t make repeat myself," she warned in a sing-song voice, one brow raised as she slowly sat up, the blanket sliding off her shoulder.
Still silence.
She huffed. "You seriously thought I wouldn’t notice? A talking goat appears out of nowhere, throwing riddles like so cryptic uncle at a family gathering, and then poof, he’s gone? Suspicious."
A cough.
"...Coincidence?" the system finally said, voice sheepish.
She deadpanned. "You had the sa smug voice."
Another pause.
"I had to test your survival instincts!"
Isabella scoffed. "What, by traumatizing with a sassy farm animal?"
"Would you have preferred a squirrel?"
She pressed a hand to her forehead. "You’re unbelievable."
The system sighed dramatically. "I saved your life."
"You nearly gave a heart attack."
"That was part of the process!"
Isabella groaned, slumping back onto the bedding. Glimora shifted sleepily in her arms, nose twitching, before snuggling closer into her chest.
Everything ached, but not in a bad way. It was the ache of being alive, of waking up sowhere she was wanted.
"Bubu," she murmured again, voice quieter now, "next ti you plan to shapeshift into a mythical creature, give a heads-up."
There was a sheepish chuckle. "Noted."
And for the first ti in a while, Isabella smiled without trying to.
She was still sore, still exhausted, but her heart felt full.
Warm soup. Her baby snuggled beside her. A goat-shaped mystery solved.
This weird, wild, impossible world... sohow felt more like ho than anywhere else ever had.
And for now? That was enough.
"Bubu," Isabella murmured again, brushing her fingers gently through Glimora’s fur, "you made see life in a way I didn’t think I ever would."
Silence again.
Then—
"Oh? Wait. Wait wait wait."
Bubu’s voice perked up like a squirrel who just spotted a diamond-encrusted acorn.
"Are you saying... thank you?"
She smirked. "Don’t let it go to your head."
"No no no—play that back! You were getting all sentintal and deep. I want to fra that mont in digital gold."
"I said," Isabella sighed dramatically, "you made see life differently. That’s not the sa thing as saying thank you."
"Sounds exactly like a thank you to ," Bubu chirped.
She rolled her eyes, shifting her weight and adjusting Glimora so the little creature was nestled perfectly in the crook of her elbow. "You turned into a goat, trolled with riddles, dumped in a jungle full of half-naked beefcakes, and nearly gave frostbite. And yet—sohow—I’m the one saying thanks?"
"That’s character developnt," Bubu said proudly.
"That’s psychological warfare," she muttered. "But fine. You win, okay? You made realize my old life was... sparkly garbage."
"Sparkly garbage?"
"Yeah. The kind of garbage that’s sprayed with perfu and sold for luxury prices. Pretty on the outside, but empty as hell on the inside."
There was a pause. Then, softly—
"I didn’t want you to die, Isabella. I wanted you to wake up."
Her chest tightened, just a little.
"I know," she whispered. "And you did. You really did."
Bubu went unusually quiet.
Then—
"I’m gonna cry but like in a cool, heroic, still-mysterious-system kind of way."
She snorted. "Please don’t get emotional now. I already have one emotionally constipated king who looks at like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he buried himself."
"Oh, that one," Bubu said, practically swooning. "He sat there like a statue. Didn’t move. Just stared. You could’ve lit a fire beside him and he wouldn’t blink."
Isabella smiled to herself, a lazy, knowing curve of her lips. "He’s trying so hard not to care, it’s actually adorable."
Bubu gasped. "Adorable? Did you just call broody and emotionally unavailable—adorable?"
"I’m saying he makes complicated look good," she said, eyes fluttering shut, warmth blooming in her chest. "Let him struggle. I kinda like watching him lose to his own feelings."
She laid back down, the warm scent of soup still floating in the air, Glimora still curled up against her, the voice in her head still annoyingly lovable.
Here, in this world that made no sense, everything suddenly made sense.
And for once in her life, she wasn’t pretending to be okay.
She was actually okay. Maybe not perfect. Maybe not safe.
But free. And that was everything.
The day went by in a blur of blue skies and quiet murmurs, the kind of day where ti slipped by unnoticed. Opehlia was once again busy in the kitchen, cooking up another batch of soup, her brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully stirred the pot. Shelia, feeling restless, decided to step outside for a quick stroll. The air was crisp, and the soft rustling of leaves cald her mind.
Shelia left Opehlia to her task, knowing she’d be fine on her own.
Shelia could hear Opehlia humming from the kitchen as she worked, occasionally tasting the soup to make sure it was just right. Everything was peaceful.
Just as Opehlia dished out a bowl of soup for Isabella, soone approached. She turned to find Zara standing there, but sothing was off—Zara wasn’t wearing her usual scowl. Instead, she was smiling, an expression Opehlia wasn’t quite used to seeing.
The smile didn’t quite reach Opehlia’s eyes. She imdiately stiffened, wondering what Zara wanted now.
"What is making you so happy today?" Opehlia asked cautiously, her hands tightening around the spoon.
Zara held up her hands, a gesture of peace. "I’m not here to cause trouble," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Actually, I ca because I heard about Isabella, and... I felt bad. She’s sick, and I’ve been thinking about apologizing for... well, everything. But I don’t know how to go about it."
Opehlia blinked, taken aback. This wasn’t the Zara she was used to. The Zara she knew was sharp-tongued, fierce, and never showed any sign of remorse for anything. She took a mont to read her, sensing a genuine attempt at kindness beneath the surface.
Her guard lowered just slightly, but she still wasn’t convinced. "Isabella is very kind and forgiving. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your apology when the ti cos," she said, trying to be reassuring.
Zara nodded, a slight sigh escaping her lips. "I won’t say anything to her just yet," she agreed. "When I’m ready, I’ll approach her myself. But... I don’t want her to know I was here."
Opehlia glanced down at the bowl of soup she had just dished out for Isabella. She saw Zara eyeing it with interest, her gaze flicking back and forth between the bowl and Opehlia. Zara’s eyes glinted with curiosity, her gaze intense.
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