Chapter 52: You’re so pretty. Why don’t you have a single male?

Chapter 52: Chapter 52: You’re so pretty. Why don’t you have a single male? Isabella took a step back and surveyed the leftover clay. There was still enough to make three to five medium-sized pots, but she didn’t want to rush. Some of the clay still needed a bit more drying time before it was workable, so she decided to make one pot first. She gathered the softened clay and got to work. The girls, still riding high on their newfound pottery slaying skills, stood beside her, watching with sharp, eager eyes. Isabella sighed dramatically. "Can you two not breathe down my neck while I work?" "We’re just watching," Ophelia said innocently. Shelia nodded. "Learning from the master." "The master?" Isabella snorted. "You mean the same master who nearly lost her mind five minutes ago watching you both work magic with clay?" The girls giggled, clearly not sorry. Rolling her eyes, Isabella pressed and kneaded the clay with firm, rhythmic motions. She had learned the hard way that the clay needed to be worked like dough to remove air pockets—or else it would explode when fired. And she really, really didn’t want her first successful pottery to go boom. "Alright," she muttered. "Time to shape this thing." She opted for the coiling method—rolling the clay into long, even ropes and stacking them layer by layer. It was like building a tiny wall, but instead of bricks, it was clay. "Smooth the edges," she reminded herself, using wet fingers to blend the coils together so there were no cracks. The girls followed her lead, mimicking her actions almost perfectly. Isabella paused. Okay, they were officially unnatural. How were they this good so fast? She focused on finishing her pot, making sure the walls weren’t too thin so it wouldn’t crack when drying. Then, out of nowhere, Shelia blurted, "You’re so pretty, Isabella. Why don’t you have a single male?" Isabella froze. Her hands, mid-smoothing the pot’s surface, stilled completely. Slowly, she turned to look at Shelia. "Excuse me?" Shelia blinked, clearly unbothered. "I’m just saying. A woman as pretty as you should have at least one." Isabella scoffed, regaining herself. "A lot have approched but none of them are good enough for me." That was true though, a lot men had approached Isabella in the past few days (at least the ones who were confident enough did). And Isabella always turned them down before they could even start. Ophelia, ever the innocent one, tilted her head. "What about Kian?" Silence. Isabella’s hand hovered mid-air. A small smile tugged at her lips. Oh? Before she could respond, Shelia smirked. "I actually wouldn’t mind you with my brother." Isabella gave her a look. "I know, I know." She hesitated. "But... I don’t know." She wasn’t entirely against the idea, but it also wasn’t that simple. Kian was... well, Kian. A powerful, unreadable man with a commanding presence. She wasn’t even sure, of it was just a passing infatuation or she really liked the man. Lf course he was good looking and all. But did she really want to be with him long term? That she had yet to figure out. Shelia nudged her teasingly. "You don’t know or you don’t want to admit you’re interested?" Isabella quickly turned back to her clay. "Shut up and make your pot." Shelia laughed but didn’t press further. Isabella took a deep breath, shaking off the conversation. Then, turning to the girls, she asked, "What about you? Why don’t you have a male, Shelia?" Shelia flicked her hair dramatically. "I’m the princess of this village, of course. I just don’t like anyone here." She shrugged. "Yet." "Yet, obviously," Isabella murmured. Then she glanced at Ophelia. She didn’t ask. She already knew Ophelia liked a man who didn’t like her back—and who had publicly humiliated her. Instead, Isabella just gave her a sympathetic look. "You’ll get over that trash soon," she said, voice gentle. Ophelia smiled faintly with a hint of pain but said nothing. A curious thought struck Isabella then. "How do people even get together here?" The girls gave her an odd look, wondering how she could ask such a question. "How don’t you know?" Shelia asked, and Isabella realized what she was asking. Isabella quickly scrambled for an excuse. "Uh... memory loss?" Their faces screamed ’we don’t believe you.’ Still, they humored her. Shelia shrugged. "Females can mate with multiple males, but only if they want to. A man can’t put his mating mark on a woman without permission." Isabella’s brows lifted. "So that means you can sleep around without getting attached?" "Yes," Shelia said simply. "For females." "But for men," Ophelia added, "if they have feelings for a woman, they become devoted." Isabella hummed in thought, smoothing the rim of her pot. "And their devotion is permanent once a woman mates with them?" "Yes." Her fingers paused for a split second. Interesting. {Congratulations on unlocking beastmen culture and Knowledge! +15 points} She tilted her head. "Is there a way to break the bond?" Immediately, the girls tensed. Shelia frowned. "There is... but there’s a blacklash." Ophelia nodded, her expression turning grim. "The pain can be so severe that it’s like..." She struggled to find the words. "Like your soul is being torn apart." Isabella let that information sink in. Damn. That was... intense. {+30 points for beastmen culture and Knowledge!} But before she could dwell on it further, she realized—they were done. They had made two full pots. She examined them closely, running her fingers over the surfaces. They were sturdy, smooth, and well-shaped. Not bad. Not bad at all. The girls helped her place them safely on the stone slabs, making sure they wouldn’t get damaged. By now, the afternoon sun blazed overhead, making the air thick and stifling. Shelia wiped the sweat from her forehead. "It’s too hot." Ophelia nodded. "Maybe we should let the rest of the clay dry out more before making the next batch?" Isabella agreed. "Yeah. We’ll make more later in the evening." With that, they carefully took out more of the remaining clay from the banana leaf hole, spreading it out to dry properly. And with their first successful pottery session completed, Isabella stretched her arms and grinned. Maybe she wasn’t so bad at this after all. [+150 points. +5 crafting points]