"Yes. Ah." She pointed dramatically. "Your girl is bleeding. In a stone palace. Surrounded by prehistoric vibes and zero pharmacy aisles."
Bubu floated to the side like she was trying to dodge responsibility. "Well, technically, you did choose this life—"
"Bubu." Her tone darkened.
"Okay okay okay!" Her little screen flared pink like a warning light. "Do you want ancient options? Or do you want me to make a... modified version?"
She paused, arms crossed.
"...Will it be cute?"
"I can give you cloudcore. Moss padding. Subtle runes for leak protection. And scent-enchanted fabric with cherry blossom aura."
Isabella gasped softly. "You mean I can suffer in style?"
Bubu winked. "I only offer suffering with sparkle."
"Bless you." She reached toward the screen like she was thanking a fashion god. "Maybe adapting my mindset isn’t so bad after all" Isabella said with a smug smile.
In a flash, a small bundle appeared beside her—neatly wrapped in shimmery plant silk with little gold thread ties.
She blinked. "Wait—did you just spawn reusable sanitary pads with magic cooling enchantments?"
"I even made a deluxe set with midnight-lavender infusion," Bubu bragged. "Because I care."
"Bubu," Isabella whispered, holding the bundle close like it was the Hope Diamond. "You are not just a system... You are civilization."
Bubu twirled mid-air, smug. "Say it louder for the divine cultivators in the back."
"I said you’re civilization!" Isabella cried.
Glimora blinked slowly. She was clearly done with the dramatics.
"Alright, now let me go do damage control before someone thinks I’m dying in here," Isabella said, hopping up with newfound purpose and menstrual magic.
Bubu waved a sparkly goodbye. "Remember: Even during your darkest hour... you can still look fabulous."
Isabella kicked the heavy fur curtain aside with the grace of a runway model. That act did affect her weak body, but she could bear.
"Now," she muttered, "Let’s go fight the patriarchy with a fresh pad and glowing skin."
But wait. Something wasn’t adding up. Bubu was never that generous—ever. She didn’t do straightforward. She didn’t do helpful. She did smug and mysterious and occasionally sparkly. That was her entire brand.
Suspicion prickled at her as she snapped open the system shop again, her gaze sweeping over the list until it landed on the normal sanitary pads: 90 points.
Ninety. She blinked, once. Twice. No, her vision wasn’t playing tricks on her. Those were basic, functional, and absolutely what she should’ve bought.
Instead, she’d chosen the fancy ones—the ones with shimmer effects and silk-wrapped packaging. If she remembered right, her current point was 7,846 points. She prayed, maybe naively, that it hadn’t changed.
She clicked it open, braced herself, and checked.
The number blinked on screen.
Her eyes nearly launched themselves out of her head. "Oh my god."
The betrayal. The highway robbery. The psychological warfare.
That demonic, floating, data-hoarding excuse for a support system had scammed her.
"BUBUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" she shrieked, fists clenched, voice raw with the passion of a woman who just realized her exclusive spa membership was fake.
She was going to kill her. No trial, no jury.
"Yes, fabulous user," Bubu’s voice rang out like she’d just been complimented by the moon. She even sounded cheerful.
Isabella squinted at Bubu, trying to keep her voice from hitting the ceiling. "You charged me nine fifty points for a sanitary pad set?!"
Bubu blinked innocently. "No, no. That was the Deluxe Royal Spirit-Infused Cloud Series with Embedded Moonstone Cooling Crystals and Seamless Bamboo Stitching. You didn’t just buy a pad. You bought an experience."
She pointed at the screen like it had personally offended her ancestors. "That ’experience’ cost more than a beginner cultivation manual and a basic invisibility cloak combined!"
"Well," Bubu floated gently, "those don’t have leak-proof, stress-calming, fragrance-infused, self-washing properties. You did select the luxury option."
Isabella ran a hand through her hair and looked toward the ceiling like she was waiting for divine intervention. "I thought it was a courtesy. You made it sound like a gift! I want a refund."
Bubu’s screen dimmed slightly, as if offended. "Oh no. No refunds. Store policy. Section 8, Clause 2.2: All purchases made with dramatic flair and emotional instability are final."
"That’s not even a real clause!"
"Is now."
Isabella crossed her arms. "You lured me in with the packaging. You sparkled. There were little flowers. It smelled like a day spa. That was manipulation."
"I prefer the term ’immersive marketing strategy,’" Bubu replied, spinning in place like a smug carousel.
"I could’ve gotten the regular ones for ninety points. Ninety." Her voice was full of betrayal. "You drained me like a thirsty vampire."
Isabella was fustrated, because a part of her was telling her, Bubu was planning on draining her so that she’ll have no choice but to perform more tasks!
Is a system even allowed to manipulate it’s user?! Shouldn’t that be illegal?
Bubu smiled. "But you’re comfortable. Stylish. Protected. Doesn’t your feminine aura feel elevated?"
Isabella looked down at the shimmering bundle she was holding, teeth clenched. "That’s not the point. I could’ve been elevated and still had enough points to buy new boots."
"It’s not like I took everything! Also you’re bleeding and still worried about accessories?" Bubu gasped, as if she’d just insulted her entire codebase.
"Boots are a necessity, not an accessory," Isabella deadpanned.
"Sweetheart," Bubu floated close. "You’re in a stone-age palace, on your period, with wild beasts outside. Trust me. You needed that pad more than those strappy gladiators you keep eyeing."
"Ugh!" Isabella flopped back dramatically onto her fur pile, clutching the pad set to her chest like a princess betrayed by her stylist. "Fine. But you owe me."
"I gave you period couture. We’re even."
She pointed a finger at the screen. "You better hope I don’t start bleeding gold next time. Because I will charge you."
Bubu blew her a kiss and disappeared with a shimmer.
She huffed, staring at the ceiling. "This universe has no respect for girls with taste."
Isabella immediately placed on the pad, bracing herself for disappointment—but the moment it touched her skin, her eyes fluttered.
Oh. Oh. Oh.
Was this what floating on a moonlit cloud felt like?