It was night already, and the festival was in full bloom.
The village was alive—music pounding, drums echoing, voices rising into the night air. Torches lit up every corner, laughter bounced off the walls, and smoke from the roasted meat curled into the sky.
It reminded Isabella of the day she first stepped into this village.
Back then, they'd also been celebrating something. Except, if she was being brutally honest, it hadn't been nearly this nice.
The night she first came? Ugh. Gosh, she wouldn't lie—they had looked a mess. Dirty, smelly, completely unkempt. Like they hadn't discovered soap yet. Barbarians, plain and simple.
But now? Tonight?
Two months of her influence and—wow. The glow-up was insane. They looked better. Smelled better. Acted better.
Isabella sat back proudly, sipping her drink as she surveyed the scene. Yep. This was her legacy. She, singlehandedly, had dragged these savages halfway toward civilization. She deserved a crown just for that.
