CHAPTER 219: CHAPTER-219

Kaya froze. A moment ago her body had been sharp, ready to react. Now she stood still, almost carved from stone. Slowly, as if against her will, she turned her head toward the physician.

He rose from the ground without hurry, brushed the dust from his robe, and met her eyes with a calm that felt sharper than any blade. His voice was steady, unshaken.

"Sometimes your head feels like it’s splitting apart. Other nights you can’t sleep, no matter how tired your body is. And then—there are moments when blood calls to you. The sight of it excites you, stirs something you try to bury. Am I wrong?"

He didn’t look away.

"You carry a dull ache in your chest. At times your left hand betrays you—numb, weak, tingling—then returns to normal as if nothing happened. Sometimes even your whole body feels on the edge of collapse, only to snap back. Tell me... am I wrong?"

Silence pressed in.

On the surface Kaya’s face was calm, unreadable. Inside, her heart pounded like a war drum. For a soldier, being exposed like this—laid bare without armor—was more frightening than any battlefield.

How?

Even in her old world, where machines could scan every vein and nerve, no doctor had ever spoken her truth so clearly. They guessed, they tested. None had named her symptoms one by one, as though reading a map written in her blood.

And some things—things she had never voiced aloud—he had dragged into the open.

The hunger when the smell of blood reached her tongue.

The thrill that burned in her veins when a fight grew savage.

Not even her most trusted soldiers knew. Yet this stranger had torn through her silence as if her mind had left the door unlocked.

He gestured to a small wooden house nearby. Its walls were rough but neatly finished, the faint shine of oiled timber catching her eye. "Shall we talk inside?"

Her gaze lingered on the house. It looked ordinary, but too quiet. Too still. After a long moment, she nodded.

They walked to the narrow door. Veer followed a step behind until Kaya lifted her hand and stopped him.

"No. You stay here."

Veer froze. His brow furrowed. "What? Are you out of your mind? You can’t just walk in there alone!"

She didn’t look back. Her lips tightened. "I said I’m going inside. Alone."

The porch wood was cold beneath her slippers, seeping into her skin, but she held her head high. Her eyes stayed fixed on the door.

Veer’s jaw clenched. His hand twitched at his side, torn between pulling her back or letting her go.

As Kaya stepped inside, the house struck her as strange. It was beautiful in its own way—cozy, but small. No more than two rooms, she guessed, and even that seemed to be achieved by splitting the space with a wall.

The main area was bare, simple. Off to the side, an animal hide hung as a curtain, swaying faintly with the breeze. Through the flutter she caught glimpses of what lay behind it—a narrow bed, a small table, and a few daily necessities. Nothing more.

The physician turned to her and gestured toward the center. "Please, sit."

Kaya’s eyes moved to the bamboo stool placed beside a low stone table. She walked over and lowered herself onto it without a word. The physician took the seat opposite her, his gaze steady.

"Would you mind if I checked your pulse again?"

For half a second Kaya hesitated, then raised her hand in silence.

He took her wrist gently, closed his eyes, and listened. His brow furrowed, and when he opened his eyes again, there was a heaviness in them.

"Do you realize your body is poisoned?"

Kaya gave a small nod. That much she already knew. First her sister had poisoned her, and then that wretched Cutie. It was hardly surprising.

But the next words froze her.

"There are three kinds of poison in your body." His tone sharpened. "Three. And yet you sit here as if it were nothing. Do you understand how unusual that is?"

Kaya blinked, startled. Her lips parted before the question escaped. "What?"

The physician’s eyes swept over her, head to toe, as though measuring her very existence. "Yes. Three different poisons. I can’t explain it. Tell me... may I ask how old you are?"

Kaya’s mouth pressed into a line. She didn’t answer. The truth was, she herself didn’t know how long a chimpanzee beastman was supposed to live.

If Kaya spoke carelessly, even one wrong word, it could ruin her. What if she said something that didn’t match what a chimpanzee beastman’s lifespan was supposed to be? One slip, and suspicion would fall on her. If these people ever discovered what she really was—not even a beastman at all—she had no idea what consequences would follow. Death? Experimentation? Worse?

She wasn’t going to risk it. She kept her lips sealed.

The physician studied her silence for a long moment, then let out a slow sigh. "Very well," he said. "If I’m not mistaken, judging from your pulse, the first poison has been in your body for a very long time... perhaps since birth. It’s mixed too deeply into your blood."

Kaya’s eyes widened before she caught herself. Her thoughts jolted like sparks in the dark. Since birth?

That couldn’t be right. Her parents... would they really have poisoned her as a baby? The thought made no sense. Who poisons their own child? And if they had, how had she survived this long? No—those cowardly people wouldn’t have dared. They didn’t have the courage to kill her. Nothing about it added up.

The physician’s gaze sharpened, catching every flicker across her face. He could see her doubt, her disbelief, the way she wasn’t ready to trust his words.

The physician lifted his hand slightly, as if correcting himself.

"I’m not saying someone injected it into you at birth. It may have been there already, though I still can’t explain how it entered your body. But... if I’m not mistaken, the second poison—when it first appeared—it must have burned through you like fire. You should remember that."