CHAPTER 478: CHAPTER 478: WHY IS A DRAGON IN MY DREAM—?

Isabella slept like a queen who had conquered three kingdoms, slapped two gods, and demanded a five-star suite afterward.

Her magical tent wrapped around her like luxury hotel bedding — only better, because it adjusted itself based on her mood. The moment she lay down, it warmed, fluffed, and settled into perfect princess comfort mode.

A gentle glow pulsed through the fabric walls, keeping the cave darkness away. A subtle rosy scent filtered through the air. Even the sound of the waterfall was muted into a gentle lullaby, like background music for her personal fantasy.

And Isabella WAS having a fantasy.

A beautiful one.

There were flowers.

There were sparkles.

There was a soft breeze playing with her hair.

Glimora pranced around wearing a tiny crown.

And Isabella was floating, literally floating like a diva angel with glitter wings.

She was smiling.

Dream-smiling.

The soft little goddess smile she only ever made when life wasn’t attacking her.

And then—

Something EXHALED on her face.

Hot.

Humid.

LOUD.

Like someone put a dragon’s nostrils on her cheeks and turned on the furnace.

In her dream, Isabella frowned.

"Why is there... hot wind... in my fantasy?"

The breath got closer.

Hotter.

Moister.

Almost sizzling against her skin.

Her dream began glitching like a broken video. Sparkles fizzled out. Her crown flickered. Glimora froze mid-prance with tiny "???" eyes.

Isabella’s eyebrows scrunched.

"...is that a... a dragon?... why is a dragon in my dream—?"

Another burst of breath hit her nose.

Her lashes fluttered.

Her nose wiggled.

Her lips twitched.

And slowly, painfully, groggily...

She opened her eyes.

And came face-to-face with—

The phoenix man.

Three inches away.

Literally three inches.

So close his eyelashes could’ve brushed her forehead.

His face filled her entire vision — sharp jawline, sunset-ember eyes, high cheekbones, that intimidating aura he carried even without wings. The heat from his breath was blowing directly on her lips like he was taste-testing her air.

He stared at her with the focus of someone examining a strange creature he discovered under a rock. No blinking. No shame. No personal space.

Isabella didn’t even have time to process.

Her soul said "NOPE" and jumped out of her body.

Her scream launched into the sky.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—!"

The scream shook the tent.

Shook the cave walls.

Shook the waterfall.

Shook Glimora.

Poor Glimora, who had been curled at Isabella’s side like a tiny innocent cinnamon roll, EXPLODED awake with her fur puffed out like a dandelion. She leapt a full foot in the air, squeaking like someone stepped on her soul.

And Isabella—

shot upright.

The phoenix man, startled, moved forward instead of back.

And then—

CRACK.

Foreheads collided.

Her entire skull vibrated like a gong.

Pain EXPLODED behind her eyes.

White sparks danced across her vision.

Isabella clutched her head.

"OW—OWOWOWOW—WHAT THE—AUUUUGH!"

She flopped sideways dramatically like she’d been shot.

Meanwhile, the phoenix man simply leaned back a little, untouched, unfazed, unbothered — the universe’s most annoying stoic statue.

He stared at her, brows barely raised.

Isabella’s eyes watered. Her forehead throbbed. She curled forward, clutching her skull like she was trying to prevent her brain from leaking out.

Then she snapped her head up, fury igniting instantly.

She pointed at him with trembling accusation.

"WHAT—IS—WRONG—WITH—YOU?!"

He blinked.

She jabbed the air between them.

"WHY were you IN MY FACE? Why were you BREATHING on me like a monster? Why are you even INSIDE my TENT? WHY is your face so CLOSE?! WHY IS YOUR BREATH HOTTER THAN A BONFIRE?!"

The man just blinked again.

Like a confused owl.

He tilted his head.

"Well," he said calmly, "you didn’t close your... little house."

"My WHAT?"

He gestured at the tent flap — which, indeed, she had been too tired to fully seal.

"And," he continued, expression unchanged, "you were sleeping for a very long time. You didn’t move. I thought you might be dead."

Isabella’s jaw dropped.

Her eye twitched.

"And your SOLUTION," she said slowly, dangerously, "was to put your FACE ON MY FACE? To breathe fire on me? Like some kind of prehistoric pervert?!"

He frowned slightly, like she was the unreasonable one.

"No," he said.

And then he casually dropped the nuclear bomb:

"I was about to kiss you."

Everything inside Isabella froze.

Her soul froze.

Her heartbeat froze.

Her lungs froze.

Even the cave air froze.

Glimora froze mid-puff with a squeak stuck in her throat.

"...w... what..." Isabella whispered.

The man nodded, still serious.

"I said, I was about to kiss you. You have pretty pink lips," he added matter-of-factly. "They look very soft."

Isabella’s entire soul combusted.

She sputtered.

She vibrated.

She flailed.

"You— YOU— YOU WERE ABOUT TO WHAT?!"

Her voice cracked like lightning.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you not hear me? I was—"

She didn’t let him finish.

She grabbed the nearest pillow and YEETED it at his head.

Then her blanket.

Then a pouch.

Then her second pillow.

Then her shoe.

"GET OUT— GET OUT— GET OUT— YOU CAVE PERVERT!" she screamed like a feral banshee.

He dodged none of them.

They all thunked against him uselessly.

"Okay," he said, stepping back, confused. "Okay, stop throwing things. I’m going."

"You were going to kiss me IN MY SLEEP!"

"You looked peaceful."

"And you looked like a future corpse!"

He stepped fully outside the tent and, before leaving, muttered almost thoughtfully:

"You’re such a strange woman."

Isabella THREW her remaining shoe at him.

He ducked out.

The shoe hit the tent wall.

She shrieked into her hands.

"AAAAAAAAAAH! I HATE MY LIFE!"

Her hair was sticking up.

Her face was red.

Her forehead still hurt.

Her blood pressure was fighting gravity.

Glimora crawled onto her lap, patting her thigh with a small paw like:

Mother, please calm down. You are too dramatic for morning.

Isabella sat there shaking, trying to reboot her system.

And right as she opened her mouth to complain again—

BUBU POPPED UP.

A tiny glowing light flicked into existence above her face.

"Good morning, host," the system chimed cheerfully.

Isabella’s head snapped up lightning-fast.

"NO!" she yelled. "NO! GET OUT! NOT YOU TOO! I JUST WOKE UP! I CAN’T DO THIS! NOT TODAY!"

Bubu paused.

"...Goodbye, host."

And disappeared.

Leaving her alone.

With her rage.

And her humiliation.

And her hot forehead bruise.

And Glimora’s quiet judgment.

Isabella dragged both hands down her face dramatically.

"Fuck," she muttered, voice muffled by her palms. "I can’t WAIT to get off this mountain."

She exhaled the long, exhausted sigh of a woman who had survived emotional, physical, and psychological violence before breakfast.