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!"
