The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts Chapter 422: Now that the danger has passed, I can afford to

The forest was quiet again. Too quiet.

Which, of course, only ant one thing.

Trouble was about to start talking.

"Bubu," Isabella whined, dragging her feet through the shimring moss as Glimora rested miserably in her arms. "You said you were going to help find a place to stay. A safe spot. You literally said that with your own shiny little robotic mouth."

Bubu floated ahead lazily, its glowing screen flickering as if rolling its pixel-eyes. "That was when I couldn’t risk you wandering off and dying in the dark hour. Now that the danger has passed, I can afford to not babysit you."

Isabella gasped dramatically, clutching Glimora tighter to her chest. "Not babysit ? Bubu, I nearly died!"

"Correction," Bubu said calmly, "you nearly died again."

"Wow. The empathy. The warmth. The humanity." Isabella scowled. "You’d make such a great therapist, you know that?"

"I’ll add that to my system upgrades," Bubu said dryly.

"Don’t you dare."

Before she could continue, a bright notification flickered across the air in front of her.

✨ Congratulations!

You have defeated [The Lost Fawns].

550 points.

Isabella blinked. Then blinked again.

"That’s it!?" she shouted. "Five hundred and fifty points?! Bubu, I almost died—no, I did die in spirit! I was emotionally bullied by ghost goats who laughed like babies!"

"Points are awarded based on difficulty and contribution," Bubu replied, utterly unfazed.

"Difficulty!? Contribution!?" she repeated, scandalized. "I killed them alone! What more contribution do you want—blood sacrifices and a signed form!?"

Glimora made a tiny sympathetic sound, rubbing her little head against Isabella’s chest.

"See?" Isabella muttered, glaring at Bubu. "Even she agrees you’re stingy."

Bubu ignored her entirely, screen shifting to display scrolling text. "Would you like to learn more about the Lost Fawns?"

"No," Isabella said imdiately, "because I already know—"

Accessing creature database...

"Oh my God."

The screen brightened. A creepy sketch appeared of the sa goat-like things, their big baby eyes wide and hollow. Isabella grimaced.

Lost Fawns – Profile

Description: Standing upright on two legs. Pale fur that glows faintly under moonlight. Eyes—large, infantlike, empty. Mouths that tear open when they laugh or attack. Optional: faint bells or whispers when they move.

"Yeah," Isabella said flatly, "I know what they look like. I fought them, rember? You can skip the slideshow, professor."

Bubu turned its glowing face toward her, expression unreadable but definitely judging. "Would you like to interrupt your own life story as well?"

"I would if I could," Isabella muttered.

Bubu continued regardless, tone turning almost eerie.

Origin / Mythology:

They were once the sacrificed children of a lost tribe who worshipped the Moon Mother. Their souls fused with mountain beasts, their innocence corrupted. They wander eternally, mimicking sweetness to lure travelers closer before devouring their souls.

The wind shifted.

The forest around them suddenly felt colder.

Even Glimora tucked her tail under herself, letting out a nervous whimper.

Isabella frowned but straightened her shoulders stubbornly. "Pfft. Children of the Moon Mother. That’s... adorable."

"You’re trembling," Bubu noted.

"I am not trembling," Isabella snapped, her voice jumping an octave. "It’s called acting. I’m just—uh—thod crying."

"Of course," Bubu said, voice thick with sarcasm.

"Shut up."

Bubu flickered again, scrolling further.

Abilities:

– Mimic voices of loved ones.

– Create illusions that distort distance or sound.

– Their laughter can paralyze weaker beings.

– Enhanced strength despite fragile appearance.

– Feed on shadows and fear.

"Okay, stop," Isabella said, holding up a hand. "You’re scaring , and I’ve already peed enough adrenaline for one night."

"I’m not done."

"Bubu."

"Stop interrupting."

The system’s glow dimd slightly as if it were lowering its voice.

"They move in odd numbers only—three, five, seven. They laugh before they kill, as if celebrating your doom."

The trees rustled, and Isabella flinched so hard she almost dropped Glimora.

"Not funny, Bubu!" she hissed, clutching her fan instinctively. "I swear if one of them shows up, I’m cutting you first!"

"Violence towards system not permitted," Bubu said smugly.

"Try !" Isabella yelled, but she was already glancing nervously at the treeline.

Weakness:

– Sensitive to moonlight or pure sound.

– Cannot cross flowing water.

– And most importantly—cannot harm soone who forgives them, for they feed on fear and guilt.

There was a long pause.

"...Forgive them?" Isabella repeated, her face deadpan. "What am I supposed to do, hug them and say ’it’s okay you tried to kill , little demon goat?’"

"Precisely."

"Oh, shut up," she groaned, throwing her head back. "You are unbelievable. I swear one of these days I’m going to uninstall you."

"You can’t," Bubu said simply.

"That’s the point!"

Glimora, still perched in Isabella’s arms, let out a tiny snort of laughter.

"Don’t you start," Isabella said, narrowing her eyes.

The little creature tilted her head innocently—but her trembling whiskers betrayed her amusent. Isabella glared down at her, and Glimora imdiately ducked her head into Isabella’s shawl like a guilty child caught giggling during a funeral.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," Isabella muttered.

Bubu, floating nearby, gave a digital sigh. "You’re yelling at a baby beast now. Truly, you’ve hit a new milestone."

"She’s laughing at !" Isabella protested, clutching Glimora tighter. "Everyone’s laughing at . Even my emotional support animal!"

Glimora peeked out again, blinking her big watery eyes, then gave the tiniest, most apologetic chirp.

And Isabella—despite herself—snorted, half annoyed, half chard.

"Oh, don’t you dare pull that cute act on now," she said, poking Glimora’s cheek lightly. "You were just laughing. I heard it. I heard it!"

Glimora let out another tiny squeak, burying herself deeper into Isabella’s arms as if to hide from the accusation.

"Unbelievable," Isabella muttered, shaking her head. "Even my baby’s got sass."

"You trained her," Bubu said matter-of-factly. "The apple doesn’t fall far from the overly dramatic tree."

Isabella gasped. "You did not just call a tree!"

"Then stop acting like one and move. You still haven’t found a place to rest."

She scowled at both of them—her sassy system and her fake-sleeping pet—and trudged forward into the glowing forest, muttering under her breath,

"I’m surrounded by idiots."

Glimora gave a muffled chirp of protest, which only made Isabella sigh harder.

She turned to Bubu again, fuming. "You enjoy this, don’t you? Watching suffer?"

"I don’t enjoy it," Bubu replied calmly. "But statistically speaking, your suffering produces growth. And entertainnt."

"Oh, I hate you."

Glimora whimpered again, eyes wide and glassy. Isabella sighed, imdiately softening. She hugged her closer, pressing a kiss to her furry head. "Not you, baby. Just this... walking toaster from hell."

Bubu’s screen flickered, unimpressed. "System."

"Sa difference."

For a mont, silence filled the air again—well, almost silence. Sowhere deep in the forest, sothing cried, long and low. It sounded like wind... or a child laughing far, far away.

Isabella froze. "...Bubu?"

"Probably just wind," the system said quickly.

She narrowed her eyes. "You don’t have ears. How would you know?"

The screen blinked innocently.

"Oh no. No no no no no." Isabella started walking faster, her grip on Glimora tightening as she looked around the glowing trees. "You hear that? That’s my trauma coming back for a sequel."

"You’re overreacting."

"I’m a woman who just fought carnivorous baby goats that mimic the voice of the man I just left crying — I’m allowed to overreact!"

"Point taken."

She quickened her pace until her feet were crunching against the moss. The forest’s soft light rippled across her fan, which hung half-open at her side. Glimora peered up at her from her arms, eyes wet but calr now. Isabella smiled faintly, brushing her thumb against her tiny head.

"It’s okay," she whispered softly, half to herself. "No more ghosts. No more goat-children."

"You forgot the other parts of their description," Bubu chid helpfully. "They also—"

"Finish that sentence and I’m dunking you in lava."

"Understood."

She kept walking, muttering under her breath. "Gods above, why can’t anything in this world be normal? The forest is haunted, my fan has an attitude, my system is a sociopath, and I’m basically out here holess."

"Correction—holess and broke," Bubu added cheerfully.

Isabella stopped dead in her tracks, staring up at the glowing trees. Her fan twitched open with a soft snap.

"Say that again," she said sweetly.

Bubu paused. "...You are—"

A sudden gust of wind shot from her fan, slicing a leaf neatly in half beside the system’s floating screen.

"—financially flexible!" Bubu corrected quickly, zipping higher out of reach.

"That’s what I thought."

She sighed, shaking her head, trying not to laugh. The ridiculousness of it all was finally catching up to her. "I swear, one day I’m going to write a book about this. ’How Not to Die on a Cursed Mountain 101.’"

"I’d read it," Bubu said.

"You would."

She exhaled, her shoulders easing slightly. The air wasn’t as suffocating now. The sounds of the forest—soft wings, gentle rustles, the faint whisper of running water—made the place feel almost... alive.

Still eerie. Still dangerous. But alive.

She took another step, squaring her shoulders, her fan glowing faintly with every breath she took.

"Alright," she muttered to herself, clutching Glimora a little tighter. "Let’s find sowhere to sleep before the next batch of nightmare toddlers show up."

And as she walked deeper into the luminous forest, Bubu’s voice chirped behind her cheerfully:

"Don’t forget to smile, Host! You’re statistically less likely to die horribly if you keep a positive attitude!"

"Oh, co on!" Isabella groaned, voice echoing through the glowing trees.