Chapter 100: You think Cyrus is funny too?

Chapter 100: Chapter 100: You think Cyrus is funny too? Cyrus cleared his throat, his voice smooth yet firm as he began explaining everything Isabella had painstakingly tried to drill into their thick skulls for the past hour. "When using herbs and spices, you must understand their nature," he started, picking up a handful of bright green leaves. "This is basil. It adds flavor but should only be added near the end of cooking, or else its taste weakens." He placed it back down and picked up a small bundle of twisted brown roots. "Ginger, for warmth and spice. You crush it before using it to release its juices. This," he gestured toward a pile of dried red flakes, "is cayenne. Very spicy. Only a pinch unless you want your tongue to burn." Isabella blinked. He’d absorbed all that? So that was why he’d been so silent. The others were uncharacteristically silent, actually listening. She watched as he patiently repeated things when Ophelia, wide-eyed and innocent, tilted her head and asked, "But why does it burn?" Shelia groaned dramatically. "Who cares, Ophelia? Just know that it does!" Luca, arms crossed, looked almost suspicious. "And what about this one?" He held up a sprig of rosemary and sniffed it. "It smells like the bushes outside my den." Cyrus nodded, unfazed. "That’s rosemary. It adds depth to meats and broths. You use it in stews like this." He pointed to a bubbling clay pot. Isabella glanced at the group, and it seemed like they were starting to understand. Her eyes returned to Cyrus. He was so calm, so kind—and so patient with them. Not once did he raise his voice when Luca said something ridiculous. Not once did he show irritation when Shelia kept asking the same questions over and over. And even when Ophelia apologized for the hundredth time, he never seemed frustrated. He handled them all with nothing but kindness and patience, and for the first time, Isabella saw him in a new light. How could such a nice person be capable of so much evil? Maybe he really was misunderstood. Maybe she didn’t know the full story. Who could say? Still watching, Isabella felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest. Cyrus was patient. Unlike her, who had just wanted to scream and throw the whole pot at Luca when he asked for the fiftieth time why the water needed to boil first. She studied Cyrus as he worked, his large, calloused hands deftly measuring ingredients and stirring the pot with ease. The afternoon sun glowed against his red hair, making it look like flames in motion. His pink eyes, rare among beastmen, remained calm and focused. He was tall, broad, and—damn—his toned arms flexed slightly as he stirred. He had that effortless kind of beauty that made her want to punch something. A giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. She barely managed to stifle it with a cough, covering her mouth. Ophelia turned to her with wide, sparkling eyes. "You think Cyrus is funny too?" Isabella: "..." "Oh, yeah, hilarious," Isabella muttered sarcastically, but her eyes lingered on him. Compared to Kian, the four striped beastman who was always too emotionally unavailable, Cyrus lacked the signature markings of their kind. He was weaker. That should have made him less impressive. And yet— The scent of simmering meat, mingled with the fresh aroma of thyme and the faint citrusy zing of coriander, pulled her from her thoughts. She inhaled deeply, her stomach twisting with hunger. "Oh, wow," she murmured. The food was actually starting to smell... good? Luca, who had been leaning too close to the pot, suddenly yelped and stumbled back. "Ow! It spat at me!" Shelia burst into laughter. "It’s called bubbling, genius." Isabella smirked. Maybe there was hope for them after all. But then was she a bad teacher?! How come she had said the same exact things and they only understood immediately wheb Cyrus repeated. It must be because he is their fellow beasts that’s why! Because there’s no was she was accepting she was a bad teacher. The system’s voice immediately rang out as if reading her mind. [You are—] "Bubu no" Isabella shut it off before it could complete it’s statement and it immediately went silent. At this point they had forgotten to give her an actual system, and mistakely gave her something else. Isabella reached down, scooping up Glimora, who had somehow gotten dirt all over herself again. "You got yourself dirty, little woman," she scolded, patting the dust from the small creature’s soft fur. Glimora let out a tiny, contented hum, curling into her chest. She strolled around the cooking area, peering into the pots. Everything was still a little rough, but... they were getting it. A real sense of pride settled in her chest. These beastmen were actually learning. And the best part was that they wouldn’t struggle to make these next time, since beastmen were actually fast learners. That is unless they were making a totally new dish that she hasn’t told them about next time. Then they’d struggle a bit. But as far as they mastered the basics, everything was fine. Cyrus caught her gaze, and when she met his, she didn’t bother looking away. Instead, she winked and mouthed. "Good job." For a split second, he looked taken aback. Then, something shifted in his expression. A warmth. A silent gratitude. He looked down, a small smile ghosting his lips. It was the kind of smile that could make someone want to stare for just a bit too long. Cyrus felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest at her words—a sense of belonging. Warmth. No one had ever praised him before. His master only ever criticized him, no matter how hard he worked to capture the best beasts. He was always told he wasn’t good enough. But Isabella... she was different. A small smile tugged at his lips as he focused on cooking. Isabella watched him curiously. Why did that make him look... touched? Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her pacing. His brows furrowed slightly—was she restless? No... she was hungry. A sudden urge rushed through him—he wanted the food to be ready faster. But he forced himself to stay calm, recalling all the little tips and tricks Isabella had shared about cooking. Rushing would only ruin the dish. And he wanted to make the best for her. His gaze drifted to her again. Her small figure moved back and forth, lips unconsciously forming a slight pout. For some reason, he had the sudden urge to pat her head. She really was cute. Even if she spoke in strange words half the time, she was still undeniably cute. Cyrus stirred the pot again, but she noticed how he occasionally glanced at her as she paced. Was he... worried about her? Her stomach growled audibly, and he visibly hesitated before shaking his head and continuing to cook. After a while, she gave up her restless patrolling and went to pick some fruits for Glimora. By the time she returned and settled onto the log outside her hut, the food was almost done. She played absentmindedly with Glimora as Cyrus approached, holding a clay bowl and a carved wooden spoon. His expression was expectant, as if he were presenting her with something precious. Shelia, Ophelia, and Luca followed closely, their faces practically screaming anticipation. Isabella raised a brow, she always knew she was the most important person in this village and this was only confirming it, it was truly touching. She took the bowl from his hands, feeling the warmth of the dish seep into her palms. The moment of truth had arrived. And judging by the way they were staring at her, they were waiting for her verdict. Her eyes flicked up to meet Cyrus’s. He wasn’t just watching. He was holding his breath.