CHAPTER 183: CHAPTER-183

The days went on, slipping past like water between fingers. Some days, Veer angered Kaya to the point where she felt like throttling him with her bare hands. Other days, he transformed into what he proudly claimed to be the best cook in this place. And somehow, the end of the month began to draw near.

Kaya couldn’t even tell when the cold stopped bothering her. Maybe it was because someone was always there now—someone talking, laughing, breathing beside her. That presence dulled the sharp edges of the winter air.

She had resumed her old routines—her training, her daily exercises inside the house. Veer turned out to be surprisingly good at it. Unlike the others who hesitated to strike her or refused to spar just because she was a woman, Veer watched her box one day and simply said, "Want to duel?" No dramatics, no hesitation.

They didn’t go wild this time. No broken furniture. Instead, they marked off a small area, barely the size of a bed. It was enough. Enough to sweat. Enough to warm her bones. Enough to test her.

And Kaya noticed—she was getting better.

The two cold months of unbearable winter passed quietly. Slowly. Steadily. And just like that, Kaya shifted her plans. She began sewing a bag—a hand-held one this time, made of stitched cloth and layers of hide. Not something to sling across the shoulder, but something practical, something to carry what she needed.

She started preparing. Packing.

A few bundles of hide. Cloth. Easy-to-carry food. Dried things. A collection of herbs tied carefully into different pouches, each labeled in her mind by scent and touch.

Veer saw it all.

He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t offer to stop her. He simply glanced once, turned, and went into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he came back out—carrying a charcoal stick and the wooden cutting plank she used.

Without a word, he sat in front of her, laid the board between them, and began to draw. Small dots. Circles. Lines.

Kaya paused, the half-packed bag resting at her side. Her brows drew together.

Veer didn’t look up.

"In one month," he said quietly, "the winter will be gone. Completely. And in twenty-eight days... all the beastmen in hibernation will wake up."

Kaya listened.

She hadn’t told him anything.

Not a word.

So how—how did he know?

And why did it feel like, somehow, he wasn’t just telling her what to do—he was walking with her, toward something she hadn’t yet named?

Still looking at her, Veer continued in a serious tone, "So... in 26 days, they’ll be active. I mean, they could hear, sense, and if they want, they can force themselves to wake up. So in my opinion, twenty days is the limit. On the twentieth day, if you leave from here," he paused, pointing at the map he had roughly drawn, "and reach this forest line... you’ll be covered. The trees are thick. No one will see you."

He drew another line, veering it slightly off the first. "And this point here—this is where you might come across other beastmen. Or other... things."

Kaya looked at him with narrowed eyes. "And who told you I’m leaving?"

Veer paused mid-scribble, glanced up at her with a half-smile, and said, "You’re packing your bags. You’re living here all alone. And now you’re telling me you have no plan of running away?"

"Running away?" Kaya echoed, voice steady but sharp. "How is it running away? Running away means leaving your home—your people. I don’t even know them."

Veer’s smile twitched wider, as if impressed. "Quite well said. But—" he pointed toward her bag, "—the way you packed... it’s brilliant. Everything’s compressed, enough to last you a month. You shrunk your food. Once boiled, it expands. Smart. And no fish—good thinking. You can catch those anywhere."

He leaned in slightly. "But if you don’t have a fixed plan, do you really think you can escape from here?"

Kaya glared at him, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. Her voice was sharp, almost slicing the air between them.

"And who do you think I’m escaping from?"

Veer met her eyes—just for a second. Then once more, slower this time.

"From these people," he said softly, like a secret he wasn’t supposed to say aloud.

Kaya blinked.

What?

Her lips parted slightly but no words came out. She wasn’t—was she? Escaping?

Not... entirely. But not entirely false either.

Sure, someone had tried to poison her. But honestly, she just felt sleepy. No foaming at the mouth, no writhing pain. Just... a strange heaviness, like someone had pressed pause on her body. Maybe it wasn’t even poison. Maybe it was just her mind, finally breaking under pressure.

Still. This village—this beast world—was probably the safest place she could be right now.

But was it home?

No. Absolutely not.

She didn’t belong here—not in this wild, unpredictable world, with its strange people and stranger rules. She wasn’t some soft-hearted heroine from a beast world romance, destined to live happily ever after with a few semi-wild, rugged men and a stack of firewood.

She had worked for her life. For her career. Her status. Her money.

She had fought in boardrooms, chewed her way through contracts, and bled through 3AM deadlines with cold coffee and stubborn pride. She wasn’t going to let all that crumble just because some portal had tossed her here like a lost sock.

And above all—she had left something behind. Something important.

A gift.

For her parents.

She didn’t even know if they received it. If they smiled. If they knew it came from her.

So yes, she wanted to go back.

Not just wanted—needed.

Because she knew, deep in her gut, that once this winter passed... they wouldn’t let her leave. They’d hold her with warmth, with care, with reasons that looked like love but were really cages.

And Kaya had never been good at staying in cages—no matter how soft the lining was.

Her jaw tightened.