"Target identified," Bubu announced, its screen flickering to life in front of Isabella. "Task: Hunt a small beast in the nearby forest. Reward: 230 points."
The next second, sothing materialized out of thin air and smacked Isabella right in the stomach. She gasped, catching it. It was a bow. A freaking bow.
Her jaw dropped. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Absolutely not."
"Standard weapon provided," Bubu said. "Arrows included."
"You’re joking," Isabella muttered, inspecting the carved wood like it was personally mocking her. "You want ——to go out there and start killing animals now? I am pregnant! Pregnant won don’t hunt! We nap. We demand food. We shine like divine queens. I’m supposed to be getting pampered, not assigned a murder mission!"
"Correction," Bubu replied calmly. "You are a Host on a cultivation mountain, not a queen."
"Oh, excuse you—!" Isabella placed a hand dramatically over her chest. "I am always a queen. That’s not negotiable."
Bubu’s light flickered once, unimpressed.
Isabella huffed, crossing her arms. "You’re supposed to treat like royalty! Bring fruit, fan , tell how radiant I look. Not give weapons and tell to go hunt sothing! I’m carrying life, for goddess’s sake!"
There was a beat of silence. Then, in that perfectly dry, clinical voice, Bubu said, "If you want to be treated like a queen... you should have kept your mate."
The air froze.
Even Glimora, perched near Isabella’s shoulder, stopped chirping mid-hum.
"What?" Isabella said slowly, her tone suddenly dangerous.
"I am stating that in this world’s social structure," Bubu said evenly, "those treated as queens are bonded and protected by their mates. That is the role of—"
Isabella snatched the bow from midair, glaring at the glowing cube with fire in her eyes. "Oh, really? So you’re saying that the only way I get to be treated like a queen is by letting a man ’own’ ?"
Bubu humd lightly. "That is how this world functions, Host. The males—"
"Stop talking," she snapped, tightening her grip on the bow until her knuckles turned white.
Bubu didn’t stop. "—take on the protective and nurturing role when their partner is expecting—"
"I said stop talking!" Isabella’s voice cracked through the cave, echoing off the walls. Her pulse was pounding in her ears. "You don’t get to talk about him."
The glow from Bubu’s screen softened, almost uncertain. "Host, I did not an to—"
"Don’t," she said, her voice breaking. "Don’t you dare turn this into one of your lessons. Not now."
Glimora whimpered softly, rubbing her head against Isabella’s cheek as if to comfort her. Isabella took a shaky breath, exhaling through her nose before she muttered, "You know what, fine. You want to hunt? I’ll hunt."
She slung the bow across her shoulder and grabbed the quiver of arrows floating nearby. "Happy?"
"Host," Bubu started again, "there is no need for agitation. I am rely explaining cultural context—"
"Oh my god, you are impossible!" Isabella yelled, throwing her hands up. "You have no concept of boundaries! Do you even hear yourself sotis?"
"I am designed to communicate efficiently."
"That’s not efficient, that’s heartless!"
"I have no heart," Bubu replied calmly.
Isabella groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You think that’s funny, don’t you?"
"I am incapable of humor."
"Ha! Could’ve fooled ."
Glimora let out a tiny chirp that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Isabella glared down at her. "Don’t take sides, little one. We’re boycotting the cube today."
"Your blood pressure is rising," Bubu observed.
"Because you’re stressing out!"
"You should remain calm. It is unhealthy for—"
"Say ’the baby’ and I will chuck you into the lagoon," she threatened, pointing the arrow straight at the cube’s flickering light.
The cube blinked innocently. "Understood."
Satisfied that she’d won at least one round in this endless verbal spar, Isabella turned sharply, scooping Glimora into her arms and stalking toward the mouth of the cave. Her boots crunched over loose pebbles, her posture stiff with irritation.
Behind her, Bubu floated lazily, the faint hum of its hovering filling the silence. "You are giving an attitude again."
"You’re damn right I am!" Isabella snapped without looking back. "You don’t know when to shut up, you keep poking at my personal life, and you have zero empathy! Honestly, I’m convinced your real goal isn’t to help level up—it’s to test how long it takes before I lose my mind."
"I do not possess malice," Bubu said.
"Oh, you don’t need malice, Bubu. You’ve got passive aggression."
"I am not being aggressive. You are simply sensitive."
Isabella stopped dead, slowly turning around, her eye twitching. "Did. You. Just. Call . Sensitive?"
"Observation: You are exhibiting signs of irritability."
She pointed at it again. "That’s called being pregnant, Bubu!"
The cube humd innocently. "Then my statent was accurate."
Her mouth fell open. "You are lucky you’re made of light."
"I am aware."
Glimora chirped again, snuggling into Isabella’s chest as if telling her to let it go. Isabella sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You know, one of these days, Bubu, I’m going to figure out how to uninstall you."
"I am integrated with your soul."
"Then I’ll exorcise you."
"That would be unwise."
"Oh, you think?"
Her voice echoed through the trees as she stomped through the misty undergrowth. The once-gentle glow of the cave gave way to the cool, silver hue of the forest beyond. The air was crisp, the sound of running water faint in the distance.
Despite herself, Isabella slowed her pace. Her anger burned softer now, replaced by the quiet rustle of the mountain’s night life. Small insects glowed faintly along the ground like tiny fallen stars. Every breath she took felt alive, heavy with magic.
Bubu hovered beside her, silent for once.
For a mont, she almost felt bad for yelling. Almost.
She adjusted the bow strap on her shoulder, muttering, "You know what? I don’t need your sympathy. I’m going to get this stupid animal, get my stupid points, and then go ho."
"Host," Bubu finally said, voice calm, "you are not leaving this mountain anyti soon."
"I know that!" Isabella barked. "Don’t ruin my delusion!"
She stomped forward, kicking a pebble, her irritation almost comically disproportionate to the calm around her. Glimora peered up at her, blinking softly, and Isabella sighed again. "Don’t give that look, baby. I know I’m being dramatic. But you heard what she said."
Glimora squeaked.
"Exactly! She has no right bringing him up."
The wind rustled through the trees, as if the mountain itself sighed with her.
She stopped on a flat stretch of grass. She could feel it — the faint ripple of energy that ant her next task was about to begin.
Bubu’s screen flickered to life beside her.
"Comncing hunt," it said in its usual tone. "Target: Small mountain stag. Difficulty: Beginner."
Isabella scowled, her pulse still thrumming with the sting of earlier words. "Fine," she muttered, pulling an arrow from her quiver. "Let’s hunt."
And with Glimora perched silently on her shoulder, she stepped into the silver-lit forest, muttering under her breath, "If I see that system smirk one more ti, I swear to every god in this world..."
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