The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts
Chapter 193 - 194: He could kill all of us in one breath!

Chapter 193: Chapter 194: He could kill all of us in one breath!

Some women gasped as Cyrus’ massive red python tail wrapped around the man like a constricting coil of fury. The snake-like hiss that followed wasn’t loud, but it cut through the air like a blade. A few children clung to their mothers, while others were pulled behind skirts and arms as if they’d seen a monster leap out of a bedtime tale.

Fear spread quickly, like wildfire through dry leaves.

Whispers bloomed.

"This is exactly why snake beastmen shouldn’t live in the village," a sharp-tongued woman hissed under her breath, clutching her child tighter.

Another chimed in with a shaky voice, "Did you see that tail? He could kill all of us in one breath!"

Isabella didn’t even blink at first. Her lips pressed into a firm, controlled line, but her body betrayed the tension building beneath. Her nails curled ever so slightly into the folds of her skirt, and a low, simmering heat stirred in her gut.

She turned, slowly, eyes locking onto the whispering woman like a predator eyeing weak prey. Her face was blank—eerily calm, but that was precisely what made it more terrifying.

"If you’re so scared," Isabella said, her voice cool and clear as glass, "why don’t you leave?"

The woman flinched as if struck. "Tsk," she snapped in defiance, though her eyes wavered. "Of course I’ll leave. I don’t want to be here when the king comes and is greeted with such a disgusting display!" She clutched her child closer, turned on her heel, and marched off—her steps fast, uneven, panicked.

"That’s right! He’s a monster! Staying here would mean I support his actions!" another voice echoed from the side. The second woman stormed away, muttering to herself about safety, monsters, and decency.

Their footsteps echoed as they vanished down the narrow path, and a few more women followed. But many others remained—some too curious, others too afraid to move, and a few quietly watching with unreadable expressions.

The only men present were the guards who had been stationed near Isabella’s hut. Their hands stayed at their sides, bodies stiff but unmoving. It wasn’t out of fear—it was discipline. Luca stood beside them, arms crossed, eyes sharp. A slight nod from him was all it took to keep them still. Being a senior guard meant his authority held weight—and right now, he used it in silence.

Isabella barely spared a glance as the women vanished. To her, they were nothing more than fading noise in the background—irrelevant extras in a scene she had already moved on from.

Her gaze shifted—first to the man still writhing like a captured rodent in Cyrus’ grip. His face was flushed, veins bulging on his neck as he struggled against the python coils that pinned his arms and chest like iron bars. Then her eyes fell to Opehlia.

Opehlia sat crumpled on the ground, like a doll dropped carelessly. Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks puffy, and tears clung to her lashes like tiny crystals. The shame in her expression wasn’t subtle—it practically screamed across her face. Head bowed, shoulders trembling—she didn’t even try to speak.

Isabella’s steps were slow but deliberate, each one tapping softly against the packed earth as she walked over and crouched beside her.

"Opehlia, dear," she began, tone soft and melodic, like a lullaby meant to soothe a child. "Why is it that whenever I see you with this man, you’re on the floor?"

Opehlia blinked at her, stunned by the gentleness. Her lower lip wobbled. Isabella tilted her head, smiling sweetly, but her eyes were sharp as glass. "You know I don’t like you being dirty, tsk. Now your dress is stained. All because you let yourself be thrown to the ground again."

The way Isabella spoke was delicate—almost affectionate—but there was an unmistakable blade beneath her words. Opehlia knew it. Everyone watching could feel it. The hairs on the back of their necks rose.

Chills danced down Opehlia’s spine as she slowly nodded, unable to find her voice. She felt smaller than she had ever felt in her life.

The crowd stood in uncertain silence. Confused. Tense. Some expected a dramatic outburst—others braced for violence. But Isabella didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t lash out.

She simply reached forward.

"Now now," she whispered, her hands gentle as she helped Opehlia sit upright. "Get up will you. Don’t lie on the floor like some broken thing just because an incompetent man decided to shove you. And you—you didn’t say anything. Didn’t fight back. Don’t do that. Not again."

Opehlia’s throat bobbed. Her hands clutched Isabella’s for balance, and for a moment she looked like she was about to collapse again—but somehow, she stood. Her knees wobbled.

"I’m really s-sorry—" Opehlia began, her voice catching in her throat as tears welled again.

"Hush," Isabella said softly, lifting a finger.

For a moment, her serene expression fractured—just a flicker. A crack in porcelain. But just as quickly, it reset into that calm, composed smile, the one she wore like armor. Her lashes lowered like a curtain falling on an unfinished play.

"Woman, who do you think you are—" the man bellowed, voice rough and grating, slicing through the silence like a rusty blade.

Isabella’s brow twitched. Her frown appeared slow and deliberate, like a shadow slipping across the surface of a still pond. Those who knew her—really knew her—immediately recognized the warning sign. Noise. She loathed noise. It wasn’t just a pet peeve. It was a personal offense.

Without a word, Isabella turned her head just slightly, locking eyes with Cyrus across the clearing.

One silent look.

And Cyrus—sharp and obedient as ever—tightened his tail around the man like a vice being turned. A bone-jarring crunch followed. The sound was low, wet, and sickening.

"Crack."

The man’s mouth opened in a twisted scream but what came out was only a garbled sound. His teeth clamped down on his own tongue in pain. Blood trickled at the corner of his lips.

"Good," Isabella said smoothly, her voice like warm syrup dripped on frost. The man fell silent at once, panting through clenched teeth, shaking slightly as the realization of who he was dealing with finally sunk in.

She turned back to Opehlia, expecting... anything but that look.

The girl’s eyes shimmered with pity. Pity for him.

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