Chapter 18: How Can I Look Like You?

Chapter 18: Chapter 18: How Can I Look Like You? The moment Isabella stepped into the village, the entire place came to a standstill. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Then, like a floodgate bursting open, people rushed toward her. Men, women, children—even elders with weak knees shuffled closer, eyes brimming with curiosity and awe. "She’s so clean!" one woman whispered. "Her hair! It’s so smooth!" another gasped. A small child tugged at their mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, is she a goddess?" Isabella had to hold back a smirk. Yes, yes, bask in my beauty. She had spent hours scrubbing dirt out of her hair. This recognition was well-earned. Some of the women, however, didn’t seem as pleased. Their envious gazes swept over Isabella like she had personally offended them just by existing. "How can I look like you?" one woman finally blurted out. "Your skin—it’s glowing! Your hair—it’s so soft!" "I drink water," Isabella replied with a straight face. "Clean water" She added, you know, just in case. The crowd gasped like she had just unlocked the secrets of the universe. One particularly bold man, eyes shining with fascination, reached out and touched her hair. "Wow," he breathed. "It’s so pretty—" Isabella turned her head slowly, locking eyes with him. Her voice was sweet but laced with warning. "You touch my hair, I touch your lifespan." The man’s hand dropped instantly. His face paled. Nervous laughter bubbled out of him as he shuffled back into the crowd. Satisfied, Isabella dusted off her shoulder. "Honestly, if you all want to look like me, I could make it happen." Gasps. More awe. A few hopeful murmurs. But then— "She’s not even that pretty," someone muttered under their breath. Isabella whipped her head around so fast the air practically crackled. She spotted the speaker—a woman with her arms crossed, attempting to look unimpressed. A slow, smug smile stretched across Isabella’s lips. "Please, girl. We both know that if beauty could kill, I’d be a war crime." The crowd erupted into laughter. Even the jealous ones had to stifle their chuckles. The woman who had spoken simply huffed, flipping her hair like she hadn’t just been verbally obliterated. Then— "Wait a minute!" a man in the crowd squinted. "Isn’t this the mad lady from yesterday? You know, the one from the celebration—" Isabella’s smile froze. "Who did you just call mad?" she asked sweetly. The man gulped. "N-no, I mean—you look like her!" "Yeah, that’s true!" another person chimed in. Isabella waved her hand dismissively. "I don’t know who that is. Never heard of her. Sounds like a very strange person." "But you look exactly like—" She clapped her hands together. "I am a totally new, completely different person! Leave me alone!" The crowd stared at her. She stared back. Finally, someone muttered, "Well, whoever she is, she’s beautiful," and the conversation shifted back to admiring her again. Isabella sighed in relief. Disaster averted. Isabella clasped her hands behind her back, her expression smug. "Whoever has plans of changing their lives in the future should come to me. I will obviously and surely make you better." Gasps. Whispers. Excited murmurs. "Is she serious?" "She looks like she knows things we don’t..." "Maybe she’s sent by the gods!" As the rumors spread like wildfire, Isabella strutted away, head high, chest puffed. Her ego? Skyrocketing. Yes, worship me, peasants. She was nearly at her hut when a loud, shrill voice cut through the village air. "Please! I love you!" Isabella halted, brow furrowing. A commotion was happening just a few meters away. She turned—and saw a woman on her knees, clinging desperately to a man’s leg, her face red and streaked with tears. "Let go of me!" The man sneered, his lips curled in disgust. The woman sobbed. "I-I don’t care what you say. I love you! We can be mates, we—" "You?" The man let out a cruel laugh, his voice dripping with venom. "You want me to be your mate? Are you delusional?" Isabella blinked. What the hell is this? "I-If you just gave me a chance," the woman begged, clutching his leg harder, her body shaking. "I know I can make you happy—" "Happy?" The man yanked his leg away so violently that the woman toppled over onto the dirt. He stepped back as if she were diseased. "You think someone like you can make me happy?" The crowd around them grew silent, watching with mixed expressions. Some pitied the woman. Others merely shook their heads, as if this was something they had seen before. "You’re disgusting," the man spat. "You’re fat, ugly, pathetic—why would I ever lower myself to be with you?" Isabella’s jaw clenched. Excuse me? The woman’s shoulders shook harder. "P-please, I—" "You sicken me," he snapped, his expression full of repulsion. "I wouldn’t touch you even if you were the last female alive." A sharp intake of breath rippled through the bystanders. The woman choked on a sob, looking absolutely wrecked. Isabella had seen enough. "Hey, you!" The man turned, his sneer still present. "What?" Isabella took slow, deliberate steps forward. "You know, for someone with absolutely nothing going for him, you sure have a big mouth." The crowd stirred. The man frowned. "What—" "You look like you were manufactured in a dumpster," Isabella continued, tilting her head. "Like your entire existence is a punishment for the rest of us. And yet here you are, acting like you have options." A few muffled snickers echoed. The man’s face twisted. "You have no idea who I am—" "And you have no idea how to shut up," Isabella cut in, her voice as sharp as a blade. "Seriously. Did you just crawl out of a sewer? Or is this actually your personality?" The crowd erupted into laughter. Even the sobbing woman blinked in surprise. The man clenched his fists. "I don’t have to listen to this—" "Then don’t," Isabella shrugged. "No one invited you to speak in the first place." He opened his mouth. Closed it. His face burned with humiliation. "Now," Isabella said, turning to the woman, her voice gentler. "Stand up. Don’t kneel for trash." The woman hesitated before shakily rising to her feet. "You deserve better," Isabella told her, brushing some dirt off her shoulder. "Trust me, anything is better than this thing in front of us."