CHAPTER 169: CHAPTER-169.

Seeing this, Kaya was dumbfounded—completely, utterly dumbfounded.

She stared at the sparrow, curled up like a scared fruit dumpling, and for a second, even she had to admit... maybe she went a tiny bit overboard.

But then again, he was annoying.

Annoying enough to make her fists twitch just by existing near her.

Kaya didn’t have soldiers to boss around anymore. No clueless recruits to yell at. No one to order into muddy push-ups at sunrise. All she had now were beastmen—civilized, proud, and way too serious to enjoy a good yelling match.

And then... there was the sparrow.

No title. No muscles. No purpose except to irritate her soul.

So naturally, she used him as a punching bag. Emotional outlet. Walking stress ball. Call it what you want.

Even she knew it was wrong—beating him like that. Honestly, if a dog saw what she did, it might file a complaint.

But it was a habit now. Like swatting a mosquito. A really talkative, overly dramatic mosquito who refused to leave.

Hearing that he had handled all of this and still forgot to escape just because he was hungry, Kaya was—speechless. Just... absolutely speechless.

She had heard stories, sure—about animals being obsessed with food just like humans—but this was the first time she’d actually seen it in real life. A sparrow. This foodie.

She stared at him, then sighed and rubbed her temple to calm her rising irritation.

"Why didn’t you run away with the food when I went to the market?" she asked, her voice sharp but controlled. "You were alone. You could’ve done it."

The sparrow looked up at her but immediately dodged her gaze.

The truth was... he had thought about it. Honestly, he had even tried. But who would’ve guessed that those damn wolves would surround the cave so quickly? And the food—well, it was a lot of food. He couldn’t possibly carry all of it in his tiny beast form. That left him with one option: flying in his human form. But of course, no beastman would’ve just let a half-naked guy with bags of food fly off midair.

So, yeah—he had tried. And he had failed.

But of course, he couldn’t admit that in front of Kaya. So he cleared his throat, glanced away, and mumbled, "You see... I’m quite an honest and, um... loyal person."

Kaya narrowed her eyes, catching the shift in his tone and those dodging eyes.

.

.

.

Half an hour had passed, and Kaya was still nowhere to be seen.

Cutie stood stiffly, fidgeting with his fingers like he was counting invisible regrets. The others were relaxed—laughing, eating, tossing meat into their mouths without a care—but Cutie kept his eyes glued to the path Kaya had taken, like it owed him answers.

Then, finally, movement.

Two figures emerged from the tree line.

His breath hitched.

It was Kaya—hair damp, lotus roots in hand—and sitting smugly on her shoulder was that sparrow, feathers slightly ruffled but somehow still acting like he owned the place.

Cutie’s eyes narrowed just slightly. That annoying bird had returned intact. Damn.

He stepped forward quickly, plastering a polite (but very much practiced) smile on his face.

"Um... are you okay? Um... why did it take so long?" he asked, voice kind but edged with concern.

Kaya paused, looked at him, and gave her usual sunshine-and-swords smile. "Oh, nothing. I just figured, since I was already at the pond, might as well take a bath."

Her answer was light, casual—even cheerful. The sparrow chirped like he agreed with her excellent time management.

Cutie blinked. His eyes shifted to her wet hair, then to the sparrow, and then back to the lotus roots in her hand.

"Oh. Is that so?" he muttered, gently taking the lotus roots from her like they were made of glass—and disappointment.

He turned around quietly, but just as he did, he missed it—

Kaya’s smile dropped like a curtain falling. Her gaze cooled instantly, sharp and unreadable. She watched Cutie’s back for a moment, expression unreadable, and then turned on her heel, striding toward a few fox tribemen nearby.

As she walked off, the sparrow—still perched proudly—glanced back at Cutie, gave the tiniest smug flutter of his wings, and turned with her like a villain’s sidekick who had somehow survived being dinner.

.

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For the next few days, life returned to a strange sort of normal. The construction of the house continued—if one could call the whirlwind of activity "normal." Somehow, despite the chaos, the work was progressing at the fastest pace Kaya had ever seen, yet still felt maddeningly slow to her eyes.

Four structures were rising from the ground, their skeletal frames beginning to take shape—alongside a smaller fifth one tucked neatly beside them. Kaya had outlined her vision with simple, direct instructions. "One floor. Spacious. But I want an underground storage space—cool and hidden." That was all she said at first, but the vision grew with time.

After countless conversations with the fox tribe’s elder artisans—more like seasoned old foxes with a passion for showing off—she made a few improvements here and there. She didn’t know the technical terms, but she had sharp instincts, and they respected that. Maybe it was the way she talked, or maybe it was the way she looked at things—like she already knew what she wanted before they even showed her the options.

Meanwhile, a few beastmen were busy digging a well not far from the construction site. Kaya had insisted on it. She didn’t trust the pond—not with so many people around. It still held water now, yes, but it wouldn’t stay clean forever. Sooner or later, it would turn murky and foul.

In her talks with the elders and her nighttime research—or what she liked to call "listening quietly while others boasted"—she learned about a type of tree sap that could act like a natural glue.

Not quite cement, but it was water-resistant enough for what she had in mind: a crude, filtered water tub. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would do for now. And Kaya was nothing if not a practical dreamer.