Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 275 --.

How... how did I get here?

She frowned, her chest tightening. The last thing she remembered—her hands opening those little packets, the strange drugs, or whatever those cursed things were. Then... nothing. Just blackness swallowing her whole.

But strangely, today she didn’t hear the usual flurry of wings and chirping that normally marked the start of her mornings. Veer and the sparrow—her constant, irritating shadows—were nowhere to be seen. The silence pressed against her, heavy and unfamiliar.

Kaya closed her eyes, straining to catch any sounds from outside. Nothing. No flapping wings, no distant footsteps. Even the wind seemed quieter than usual. A frown creased her forehead. Something wasn’t right.

She rose slowly, every movement deliberate, careful. Her first instinct led her to Veer’s room. The bed was untouched, neatly folded, almost unnaturally so. But the rest of the room told a different story—clothes, hides, and small trinkets scattered as though a storm had passed through. Kaya’s nose wrinkled in disgust, her eyes scanning every corner.

Outside, the yard lay empty, bathed in pale morning light. No sign of Veer, no indication where he had gone. A prickling unease slid down her spine.

Back in the house, Kaya shook herself free of the uneasy thought, stepping toward her own room. She stripped off her clothes, the lingering aches from last night tugging at her body, and moved to brush her teeth and take a bath. The water ran over her skin, scalding yet soothing, but the quiet of the house pressed in on her like a weight.

Suddenly, amidst the steam and dripping water, Kaya froze. The faint crunch of footsteps approached, steady but urgent. She held her breath, listening. It was unmistakable—Veer’s gait. Heavy, quick, as if he had just come running from outside.

Her fingers fumbled with her clothes as she hurriedly pulled them on, then snatched the towel to wipe her damp hair. Droplets still slid down her neck as she pushed the door open and stepped into the hall.

There he was—Veer’s broad back framed against the shelf. His shoulders were tense, every movement sharp, as though he was ransacking the drawers in silence. His hair was still damp, sticking to the sides of his neck, and his breathing was uneven.

Kaya narrowed her eyes, suspicion flickering through the dull ache in her skull.

"Where were you, huh? And what the hell happened last night? My head hurts so much."

Veer didn’t turn. His hands didn’t pause, rifling through the drawer like he was searching for something invisible. "Nothing. You were just tired... you fell asleep." His tone was flat, clipped, as if the words themselves were a burden.

Kaya frowned. The explanation was too neat, too empty. A flash tugged at the edges of her memory—Veer’s father’s face, her own trembling voice saying something she couldn’t fully recall. Her temples throbbed harder.

Her gaze sharpened on him. "What are you trying to find?"

For the first time, Veer stilled. His hand lingered on the drawer’s edge, knuckles whitening. A long pause stretched between them. Then, without looking back, he shook his head and muttered, "Nothing." His voice dropped, heavy with finality. "Pack your things."

The words cut through the quiet like a blade. Kaya blinked, towel forgotten in her hand. Pack your things? The unease in her chest deepened, coiling tighter.

Kaya tried to steady her tone, forcing her voice into something casual, though her chest felt tight.

"Why?"

At once, Veer’s hand froze mid-search. Slowly, he turned to face her. His eyes locked on hers, sharp yet unreadable. "What? Do you want to stay here forever?"

Kaya tilted her head, studying him. His face looked the same—strong, controlled—but something was off. The faint smudges under his eyes betrayed how little he’d slept. His voice was calm, but the calmness felt... wrong. Too deliberate. As though every word was weighed before leaving his mouth.

She swallowed, choosing her words carefully. "I’m asking you... where are we going?"

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Veer’s jaw tightened, and his fingers drummed once against the drawer before stilling. When he finally spoke, it was in that same level, deliberate tone.

"We were traveling, weren’t we? Then you got sick then me. We stopped. We stayed here. Now..." His eyes flicked over her quickly, assessing her like he was measuring her strength. "Now you’re fine. I’m fine. So it’s time to move again."

Kaya studied him for a long second before asking, her voice sharper now, "Would your father even agree to let you leave here?"

Veer didn’t flinch. He simply turned his back and strode toward his room, tossing the words over his shoulder like they were nothing.

"I’ve already spoken to him. He has no problem. We’re leaving."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Kaya’s lips pressed into a thin line. No problem? That old bastard—Veer’s father—would sooner chain his son to the ground than let him walk away freely. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Last night... something had happened. She couldn’t remember it clearly, like her mind had been wrapped in fog, but the flashes still haunted her.

With a frustrated exhale, she turned back to her room. If Veer wanted to act like nothing happened, fine. Two could play that game. She threw open the chest where their belongings were kept and began to pack.

Last time she had left Nikala tribe with barely more than the clothes on her back. But Veer... Veer had plenty now. If he wanted another girlfriend to dress up, he could always get more. So Kaya claimed almost all of it—tunics, hides, even her lighter outerwear. She wasn’t going to be modest about it.

She ignored the heavier things—blankets, hides, unnecessary clutter. She could always hunt and manage. What she needed was mobility, not luxury. The bag was heavier this time, but thanks to Veer’s adjustments, it sat across her shoulder like a traveler’s satchel. From a distance, it almost looked like something from another world.

If only there was a zipper instead of these stupid buttons, Kaya thought, clicking the flap closed. It would’ve looked perfect. But whatever. This will do.