CHAPTER 157: CHAPTER-157

All night, Kaya tossed and turned, unable to shake the thought from her mind—did she really need the oil, or could she manage without it?

At first, she tried to convince herself it wasn’t urgent. But then she remembered how the cold always made her skin crack and itch, how her scalp felt tight, and her hair turned into a frizzy, unmanageable mess. She couldn’t just whip up a cream or lotion to fix it.

Sure, she came from a modern world, but it’s not like she’d ever memorized those long, complicated skincare tutorials. She wasn’t some chemist who knew how much shea butter or beeswax or whatever to melt down for a body butter. And honestly, who has time to read the back of a jar and remember it line by line?

She let out a frustrated sigh. Even if she tried, she had no clue how to make a proper cream. And the meat lard? Ugh. It was too much—greasy, sticky, and heavy. She couldn’t eat them all the time anyway.

Coconut oil was her best bet. It was natural, light, and could be used for both cooking and skincare. Plus, it stored well. She didn’t need a machine to extract it either—just some patience and a few coconuts.

But that was the real problem. The nearest coconuts were by the sea. The ocean was at least two days away by flight, and two days back. And going there meant risking a run-in with those damn mermaids—mermen—whatever they were. Kaya couldn’t forget what they’d done to her. Trusting them? Not a chance.

Still, she needed that oil.

By dawn, after a long, silent battle in her head, Kaya finally sat up with a determined sigh.

She was going to send the fliers.

And she was definitely including a note—one that only she could write.

.

.

.

The next morning, Kaya sat cross-legged, still half-sleepy, with a sparrow feather in one hand and a small bowl of what looked like red ink in front of her. Except—it wasn’t ink.

It was blood.

To be precise Rooster blood.

From the one they’d caught just last night. Thankfully, someone had the sense to save it instead of tossing it out. Some of the beastmen still clung to their old habits—drinking blood because, back then, they didn’t have salt to preserve anything. Now, even with salt available, they were weirdly attached to the taste.

Getting her hands on enough blood for writing hadn’t exactly been easy. She’d stolen it—well, "borrowed" it without asking. But really, what choice did she have? It’s not like there’s a stationery store around the corner.

Kaya stared at the small bowl in front of her, the red liquid inside slowly thickening. She twirled the sparrow feather between her fingers, the makeshift pen ready in hand. Five full minutes passed—and she still hadn’t written a single thing.

Why?

Because it suddenly hit her—these people couldn’t read.

She blinked at the realization, then slowly dropped her head into her hand with a soft groan. "Right," she muttered. "Of course."

So what was she even doing? Sitting here like some ancient scholar with ink and quill, hoping to craft a grand message for a village that didn’t even recognize the alphabet?

She rubbed her forehead in small circles, thinking hard. "What now, what now..." Her eyes scanned the small yard, the bowl, the feather—everything was in place. Except...

Her gaze fell on the ground in front of her.

Just... stone.

A long breath left her lips. She didn’t even have paper.

Seriously?

Here she was, all ready to scribble down a masterpiece with rooster blood and a sparrow feather—and there was nothing to write on. She stared at the empty stone floor for a moment, then slapped her own forehead lightly with the heel of her palm.

"Think, Kaya. Think."

And then—like a lantern flickering to life in a dark room—an idea flashed across her mind. She jumped to her feet and ran out the door. Gripping the wooden doorframe for balance, she leaned out and shouted without hesitation.

"Hey! What did you do to the rooster skins?!"

Cutie, who had been drying his arms nearby, froze. His head turned slowly, eyes wide, the expression on his face not unlike someone caught red-handed stealing sweets.

Kaya’s voice had landed like a perfectly aimed arrow.

Cutie blinked. Then blinked again.

He had no idea Kaya knew.

See, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Kaya had always been...particular. When they butchered the rooster, instead of just plucking the feathers like normal people, she had them cut out thin layers of skin from the bird—and then threw it away like it was nothing.

So he’d simply done what seemed smart: carefully removed the feathers, set the skin out to dry, and tucked it away for later.

Just in case.

Cutie stared at her like she’d just asked for his kidney.

"Um... what? Are you serious right now?" he said, blinking rapidly. He shifted on his feet, as if pretending not to hear her might make the moment disappear.

He was desperately hoping she was just confused—or better, joking. Because if she really meant what she said and asked for the rooster skin, he’d have to give it up. And if she did something outrageous like... throw it away?

He’d never recover.

But Kaya just looked at him with that quiet, knowing smile—the kind that says, you have exactly three seconds before I get up and take it myself.

"Give me one of the hides. Right now."

Cutie deflated like a balloon. His shoulders sagged, his mouth twisted into a tragic pout, and after a dramatic sigh that would put any soap opera actor to shame, he shuffled over and handed her one of the rooster skins. It was dry, carefully preserved... and clearly precious to him.

Kaya examined it like a royal judging a gift from a neighboring kingdom. She turned it over, felt the texture, gave it a thoughtful look.

Cutie leaned in, hopeful. Maybe she’d praise it. Maybe she’d—

"It’s great," Kaya said flatly.

Cutie brightened like a puppy hearing the word treat.

Then Kaya sighed, handed it back, and waved her hand dismissively. "Take it. Go. Shoo."