CHAPTER 172: CHAPTER-172

But then, just as she was about to toss another glare his way, something unusual tickled Kaya’s senses—the earthy scent of rain-kissed soil. Soft, warm, familiar... yet completely out of place in this dry clearing.

Her nose twitched ever so slightly as she paused. Then, narrowing her eyes, she turned to him and muttered suspiciously, "Are you using something? Some weird new cologne or what?"

Veer blinked, visibly caught off guard. He sniffed his shirt like a confused puppy. "Huh? No. I mean, do I smell different? Do I smell good different or ’I stepped into a swamp’ different?"

Kaya rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "Forget it." She spun on her heel with that signature flick of her braid, already brushing him off like lint.

But before she could take her second step, Veer was there—right in front of her again. Like a shadow that disobeyed the sun.

She arched an eyebrow. "You’ve got one second to move before I test how hard your skull is."

But instead of responding with his usual half-hearted complaints or sarcastic quips, he reached forward—gently, this time—and caught her hand. Not her palm. Her wrist. Like he was anchoring her there, not to control, but to... tether.

"Sweetheart," he said in that annoyingly soft tone that somehow never matched his chaotic energy, "How many times do I have to tell you... don’t run off like you’re starring in some dramatic revenge drama?"

Before she could bark back or bite his fingers, her eyes caught movement—his fingers fiddling with something.

By the time she looked down, it was already done.

Wrapped snug around her wrist was a strange band—some kind of hand-stitched cloth locker, but with a twist. A small, delicate pouch was attached to it, and from that, the very scent she had noticed earlier—like fresh rain on warm soil—was emanating in faint, steady waves.

Kaya’s brows furrowed. "What the hell is this?"

Veer grinned proudly, as if he’d just saved a kingdom instead of sneaking a scented beanbag onto her. "A charm. Calms your temper. Might save my life."

She glared at him.

He winked. "Also, it smells like how I imagine your heart smells—mean on the outside, but oddly nice when you’re not threatening to kill someone."

Kaya stared. Not impressed. Not flustered. Just... done.

"You’re dead," she said in her most even tone, already rolling her sleeve up.

As Kaya launched her fist, Veer tucked his arm in and dodged with ease, a grin already spreading across his face. She didn’t stop—her foot swept up in a quick kick, but again, he darted away with a laugh bubbling from his chest, turning the fight into a game.

Instead of throwing punches back, Veer ran. Around the corner. Behind the pillar. Over the small stool. Each time he looked back, that teasing smile danced on his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Kaya, of course, chased after him with fire in her eyes—not rage, no, just the kind of heat born from being absolutely done with his antics. Her fists cut through the air, swift and sharp, but he kept slipping out of reach like a breeze she couldn’t quite grab.

When she managed to corner him at last and threw another punch, he caught her wrist—not to stop her, but as if the touch itself was enough of a victory. Her glare sharpened. But instead of reacting, he gave her hand the briefest gesture and let go.

Something shifted. The weight of her fury didn’t vanish, but it cracked just a little. Enough for her lips to twitch.

And just like that, she was after him again.

They circled the house like wild children with too much energy and a forgotten sense of seriousness—dashing past the door, hopping over a water pot, even nearly colliding with a hanging cloth. Her footsteps thundered behind his as he ducked and weaved with no intent to escape, only to prolong the chase.

After the fourth lap, Kaya finally stopped, hands on her knees, chest rising and falling in quick bursts. Her shoulders rose in exhaustion, strands of hair sticking to her forehead, but her eyes still burned with unfinished business.

"Huff huff"

As Kaya was huffing, trying to catch her breath, a water pouch suddenly appeared in front of her.

"Here, drink some water," Veer said, his voice calm, almost playful.

Kaya took the pouch from him, noticing the wooden cap. It looked like an actual carved cap, rough around the edges yet oddly elegant. She twisted it open and drank, letting the cool liquid slide down her throat. A deep breath escaped her lips, easing the dryness in her chest.

But then her gaze fell on the pouch itself. It wasn’t made of plastic or glass. No metal either. It was soft, flexible—clearly crafted from animal skin. Yet, Kaya didn’t flinch. It reminded her of the makeshift war tools and pouches she had seen in history scrolls from her world.

Her eyes trailed toward Veer.

That’s when she noticed his clothes. A red T-shirt—modern, fitted. White pants, slightly creased but clean. And shoes... they weren’t anything like the crafted footwear from this place. They looked hand-sewn but with a touch of modern flair. Polished. Designed.

Kaya’s brows furrowed. Everyone else around here looked like they had stepped out of a forgotten century. Robes, leather straps, furs, earth-toned tunics. But Veer? He always looked like he had fallen out of some modern-day wardrobe.

How? Why?

.

.

On the other hand, when cutie and the others returned from their usual routine of collecting wood from the nearby forest, their footsteps slowed as they came closer to the house. Cutie, leading the group, narrowed his eyes at the sight ahead.

Kaya was standing still, breath heaving softly, with a water pouch dangling loosely in one hand. In front of her, Veer was laughing—his expression bright, almost childlike. The corner of his red shirt fluttered slightly in the breeze, brushing against his white pants that were stained faintly with dust. He wasn’t trying to hide his amusement, nor did he seem the least bit tired, even after all the chasing around.