Now, this was where things were about to get really funny.

Isabella took a deep breath and braced herself, remembering every single miserable thing she had suffered since arriving in this ridiculous beast world.

Inedible fruits.

Water that tasted like a personal insult.

No proper clothes—except for the ones gifted by that kind-but-possibly-insane stranger.

No shoes.

No basic, just common, simple BASIC hygiene practices.

The more she thought about it, the more she felt a headache coming. No toothpaste, no soap, no proper bathrooms—how were these people still alive?

Ophelia and Shelia, watching her take that dramatic deep breath, were already secretly rooting for her.

Not because they thought she had anything smart to say, but because they both knew exactly how terrifying Kian could get when displeased. And somehow, this strange, ridiculous woman had already grown on them.

Meanwhile, Kian's right-hand man—who always stood by his side—was also curious. Not that he would ever admit it. But deep inside, he was waiting expectantly.

Because what could this unpredictable, possibly crazy woman say that would actually make sense?

To be honest, she scared him.

Zara, on the other hand, had an entirely different reaction.

She was praying.

Praying that Isabella would say something incredibly, unbelievably, earth-shatteringly stupid so Kian would finally get mad and tell her off.

She was jealous.

She felt threatened.

She wanted this entire week to hurry up and be over so she could personally wave Isabella goodbye forever.

But then—

Isabella finally opened her mouth, and the girls instinctively held their breath for her.

"Your Highness, do you want the truth, or do you want lies?"

The question threw everyone off guard.

They had all expected her to go straight to the point, but this? This was different.

Kian raised a brow, his expression unreadable. Not because he was interested, but because he genuinely did not know how to react to such a pointless question.

The way Isabella asked it—so passionately, as if she were about to deliver the speech of the century—made Shelia press her lips together, shoulders trembling as she fought back laughter.

Ophelia, on the other hand, was invested.

She wanted to see where this was going.

Shelia glanced at her brother, instantly noticing the look on his face. Yeah. He was done.

He had zero plans to entertain whatever nonsense was about to come out of Isabella's mouth.

But she did.

So, before Kian could shut Isabella down completely, Shelia smoothly stepped in.

"Eh, Isabella," she called out, drawing attention to herself. "He wants the truth."

Her words earned her an amused look from Kian.

Because since when did his sister—who barely associated with anyone—suddenly get so friendly?

If only he knew.

If only he knew that Shelia was deliberately entertaining Isabella because, for the first time in years, she saw hope.

After their father's death, Kian had changed. He had left their mother in the city, started his own village, and became obsessed with gaining more power so no one could ever treat him unfairly again.

But in the process, he had become cold.

Detached.

Until now.

Shelia wasn't sure if it was Isabella's confidence, beauty, or pure chaotic energy, but something about her made Shelia believe—just maybe—she could finally bring life back into her lost brother.

And poor Isabella had no idea.

"Okay, okay," Isabella continued, blinking her lashes innocently. "What level do you want it? Super harsh, harsh, normal, medium, or meh?"

There was a pause.

Then—

Silence.

Confusion.

And the undeniable feeling that every brain cell in the room just collectively left their bodies.

Even Kian, the ever-stoic lion king, blinked.

Was this woman serious?

The way Isabella sat there, completely unbothered, made Shelia clutch her stomach, struggling not to laugh.

And Ophelia? Oh, Ophelia was impressed.

Because this girl was smart.

Instead of saying anything directly insulting, Isabella was deliberately acting silly to soften the blow.

She wasn't dumb—she was careful.

She knew that if she just blurted out the truth, it might come across as offensive.

But this way?

This way, she came off as playful.

Kian wouldn't think she was mocking him—he'd just think she was being her usual ridiculous self.

And it was working.

Because instead of being furious, Kian just looked at her.

Expression blank.

Like he had just realized he was dealing with a whole new breed of ridiculousness.

"He wants the super harsh level," Shelia whispered with a giggle.

But the moment she turned to meet her brother's gaze, her soul nearly left her body.

Oh.

Oh, he was not amused.

Kian's piercing eyes locked onto her with the intensity of a thousand suns, and Shelia—who was usually fearless—almost screamed.

"Sorry," she blurted, voice a little shaky as she quickly turned away, pretending she hadn't just signed Isabella's death sentence.

Instead, she focused on Isabella, waving her hands urgently.

"Quick, go straight to the point!"

Isabella, still as unbothered as ever, nodded slowly. "Ah, ah. You all bear witness, right? Since His Highness has no objections, if he gets mad, you better protect me."

She dramatically turned her gaze to every single person in the room, making sure even the annoying Zara wasn't excluded from her plea.

Ophelia and Shelia? Already holding in their laughter.

Kian's right-hand man? Still questioning reality.

Zara? Rolling her eyes so hard she saw another dimension.

And Kian?

He just stared.

Expression blank.

Like he was seriously reconsidering every choice that had led to this moment.

Then—

"Your Highness," Isabella finally said, her voice slow, dramatic.

She could feel it.

The tension was perfectly built.

Everyone was waiting.

She was ready.

Time to drop the bomb.

"I must say… your village is truly one of a kind. A place so unique, so unforgettable, that I'll carry the memories with me forever… mostly in the form of trauma."

For a moment, everyone thought Isabella was about to praise the village.

But no—this woman was dangerous.

A master of deception.

She wrapped her complaints in silk, dressed them up as flattery, and delivered them with a straight face.

And she did it so smoothly, Kian himself had to take a second to process it.