The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 177: A silent bath

Her fingers moved slower now, dragging suds over her collarbone, across her shoulders. And as the steam wrapped around her like a veil, another thought crept in—quiet, dangerous.

Why did she care so much?

She didn’t know him. Not really. Not beyond the fragments he let slip through.

So why this sudden softness in her chest?

Why the ache when she thought of him retreating again?

Was she fooling herself? Was she just... playing?

Isabella clenched her jaw and blinked the thought away.

Love? Please.

She’d never believed in that word. Not truly.

Back home, love had always been a messy promise made by broken people. A lie wrapped in sugar, handed out like candy to keep the world spinning.

She never tasted it.

Never trusted it.

And even in this strange new world of magic, beast kings, and impossible beauty, she didn’t suddenly believe it existed. At least—not for her.

Fear? No. It wasn’t fear.

She didn’t fear love.

She just... didn’t believe it was real.

Or maybe that was the lie she told herself, so it wouldn’t hurt when no one offered it.

So it wouldn’t sting when she caught herself caring for a man who would never belong to anyone but his war-hardened silence.

Because if love wasn’t real—then there was nothing to lose, right?

Nothing to hope for. Nothing to break.

Just this—this moment, this steam, this shared breath with a stranger who maybe understood silence the same way she did.

And for now... that would be enough.

Even if it burned a little.

Isabella made sure to wash up quickly, reaching for the bottle of liquid soap she had gotten from Bubu’s store. And when she said Bubu’s stuff hit different... she meant it.

The moment she poured a single drop into her palm, it bloomed like silk—thick, glossy, almost iridescent in the moonlight. It smelled faintly of some rare flower she couldn’t place, mixed with something cool and spicy that tingled in her nose. Exotic. Clean. Just right.

Compared to the soap she’d crafted herself using the mountain’s wild herbs, clay, and oils—it was hard to say which she loved more. Hers was earthy and rich, almost grounding. It clung to the skin like a balm, soothing and moisturizing in a way most soaps couldn’t even dream of. In fact, it was leagues ahead of any basic soaps from her old world.

But this one from the store? This was next level.

You didn’t even need a lot—just one drop lathered into a full-body cleanse, leaving her skin feeling like she’d just stepped out of a luxury spa. And there was no greasy residue, no stickiness. It was as if the soap whispered to her skin, cleaned it, and vanished without a trace.

Magic? Maybe.

Worth every credit? Absolutely.

She used it liberally, not bothering to be stingy—after all, what was the point of hoarding luxury in a moonlit hot spring with a dangerously hot man a few feet away?

Despite it being labeled a body soap, the liquid was clearly designed with hair in mind too—rich, low-lather, and infused with nourishing oils and scalp-friendly herbs. One rinse and her hair felt smoother, silkier, and lighter than ever.

So while Isabella has not bought a separate shampoo yet, this soap is high-quality enough to handle both jobs for now.

And best of all, she didn’t have to worry about damaging the water or harming the creatures that relied on it.

Because of her, all soaps made or sold in this world from now on would be crafted using fully natural, biodegradable ingredients—fused with nature-friendly enchantments. It was literally written into the system: sustainable, safe, and self-neutralizing within minutes of use.

Leave it to Bubu to sell something that was borderline magical and eco-certified.

Once she was done scrubbing and rinsing, Isabella wrung out her hair and tilted her head back, exhaling into the cool night air. The steam curled around her face, warm and comforting, while the soft ripples of the spring tickled her thighs.

She let her eyes wander for just a second, then peeked discreetly over her shoulder.

Kian hadn’t moved.

He was still seated where she’d left him, back resting against the stone, his shoulders partially obscured by the mist. Silent. Watchful. Unreadable.

His head was turned slightly, just enough to suggest that he wasn’t looking at her—not directly, at least.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Respectful.

Expected of him.

Of course he’d look away. Of course he’d give her space.

Or maybe...

Maybe he was just lost in that beautifully cold world of his again. That place behind his eyes where even she couldn’t follow.

He hadn’t made a sound since she started washing up.

No teasing comment. No cocky smirk. Nothing.

It was as if he’d vanished into himself, swallowed by thought.

Or restraint.

And somehow... that was more dangerous than anything he could’ve said.

After everything—after the water, the heat, the touch that had lingered too long—Isabella had to make a choice.

She stood for a while staring the pile of neatly folded clothes she had packed into her large space, letting her fingers graze the textures. There were plenty of options, all modestly made from the materials available in this world, but her eyes settled on one piece: a hide dress. Soft. Thin. Light.

It wasn’t anything extravagant. The leather was from a small animal—maybe a fawn or rabbit—carefully treated and dyed with crushed berries and gentle herbs, giving it a faint pink-blush hue that glowed warm under the moonlight. The texture was butter-soft, featherlight on her damp skin. It felt... almost too delicate for a world like this.

But it felt like the right choice for tonight.

She pulled it over her head, smoothing it down over her still-warm body.

It wasn’t fitted—no, it barely clung to her curves—but there was something subtly elegant about how it draped against her. The neckline scooped modestly above her chest. The hem swayed just past her knees.