Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 285 --

Kaya lifted the flute to her lips and blew gently.

Pheeew-wheee—!

A shrill, comical squeak spilled out, wobbling in the air like a drunken bird. The panda-tribesmen burst into laughter, some clutching their bellies, their shoulders shaking. Even Veer chuckled under his breath, the corners of his mouth twitching.

But Kaya didn’t flinch. Her hands hovered above the holes, fingers trembling for a moment before she pressed them down with care. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and lifted the flute back to her lips.

This time, when she blew, the sound shifted.

Hummm...phuuu... dooo~

The notes rose soft and warm, each one tumbling into the next as her fingers moved—blocking, unblocking, dancing in rhythm. The awkward squeak was gone, replaced by a low, flowing song, like a brook spilling over smooth stones.

The melody deepened.

Fwoooh...reeeh...looo...

The tones rolled out in waves, gentle yet steady, wrapping around the trees and the clearing itself. The laughter had vanished—replaced by silence thick with wonder.

The panda-tribesmen blinked slowly, their breathing easing, their eyes softening. Even Veer stood still, his amber gaze caught on her, as if the sound had pinned him in place.

The flute sang on.

Dooo...reee...laaa... hummm...

Its voice was clear, so tender it felt alive, carrying a serenity that sank into bones and hearts alike. The pandas swayed unconsciously, like grass stirred by a quiet breeze, as though the melody had taken hold of their bodies.

For a moment, the air itself smelled faintly of bamboo—fresh, green, and sweet, the scent of new shoots after rain.

The forest hushed, as if listening. Every creature, every leaf, held its breath.

And still the flute’s song lingered.

Hummm...phuuu...dooo~...looo...

A silver ribbon of sound weaving through the silence, peaceful, endless, unforgettable.

Suddenly—snap!

It was like a needle had been driven straight into Veer’s skull. His jaw clenched, and he bit down on his lip, trying to swallow the cry that threatened to escape. Still, a low, pained ugh slipped past.

Kaya’s flute fell silent. Startled, she lowered it from her lips, her brows furrowing the moment she caught sight of Veer’s grimace. In a heartbeat, she rushed to him, her hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"Veer! Are you okay? What happened?"

He shook his head, forcing a faint, dismissive smile, as though brushing her concern away. But the strain in his features betrayed him. When his eyes slid shut, the pain only sharpened, and in the darkness of his mind, a vision stirred.

There—sitting upon a rock—was a woman. A flute rested in her hands, not like Kaya’s, but one of deep brown wood, its surface bound with a red rope that spiraled around it, as if to guard its secrets or make it beautiful in its simplicity.

The woman wore a flowing white gown, faint patterns tracing across it, though they blurred before his eyes like smoke he couldn’t grasp. Her hair was long and black, falling in loose, natural curls down her shoulders. She lifted the flute to her lips and began to play—yet no sound reached him, only the sight of her fingers gliding gracefully along the holes.

He strained to hear her, to see her face—but it remained hidden, blurred and unreachable. And yet, something inside him ached with recognition.

He knew her.

Not by sight. Not by sound.

But by the hollow pull in his chest.

He knew her so well—

And yet, he could not remember who she was.

Kaya turned her head and noticed the old woman standing quietly at the side. Suddenly, the woman began clapping, her palms coming together in slow, steady rhythm. One by one, the panda-tribesmen followed, their applause echoing softly through the clearing.

Kaya blinked at them, caught off guard, and then lowered her head slightly with a shy smile. Raising the flute in her hand, she asked gently,

"Grandma... what is this called?"

The old woman’s wrinkled face warmed with a smile. "Child, it’s called Basuri."

"Basuri..." Kaya whispered, tasting the word as though it carried weight.

The old woman lifted a finger to explain, her tone patient, almost reverent. "It is made of bamboo, that is why we call it Basuri. But its true meaning is not just in the wood. It comes from the voice it carries. The sound, the song within it—we call that Sur. In our older culture, Sur meant the melody, the life in a voice. What you now call an octave, we once simply called Sur. So, Basuri means... bamboo giving birth to a beautiful sound."

Kaya’s lips curved into a brighter smile. "Oh... thank you, Grandma."

The old woman nodded, her eyes soft but glimmering with pride. "We have only ever sold these to the fox-tribemen, for they were the only ones who could truly use it. It is said they wove enchantments into their songs, binding hearts with every note. But today... this is the first time I have heard someone else play it so beautifully. Child, it feels as if you have given us a gift, instead of us giving you one."

Her words lingered in the air, wrapping Kaya in warmth and quiet wonder.

After more smiles, soft words, and lingering goodbyes, Kaya and Veer finally left the panda tribe behind.

This time, instead of taking flight, Kaya tugged lightly at Veer’s sleeve. "Let’s walk," she said firmly. She had seen his condition earlier—the flash of pain, the grimace he tried to hide. Even though he looked better now, she didn’t want to take chances.

Veer raised a brow but said nothing. When Kaya pressed, reminding him that if he fell from the sky, at worst he’d break a bone—but if she fell from such a height, she’d die—he only sighed and nodded. After her gentle yet relentless persuasion, he agreed, and together they set out on foot.

Perhaps it was the rest she’d gotten, or maybe something deeper in her body had shifted, but Kaya felt lighter, stronger. Her steps carried her swiftly, her pace almost cheerful, and Veer found himself quietly watching the way her stride no longer dragged with exhaustion.

But as they walked, Kaya’s thoughts snagged on something. Wait... wasn’t I forgetting something? Someone? She frowned, straining to recall. Important words seemed to slip through her memory like water through a sieve.

And then—

"Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!"

(Idiotic! female! how dare you!)

The shrill, desperate cries cut through the air. Kaya’s eyes widened, realization slamming into her. "Ah—oh no! The sparrow!"

She turned just in time to see a tiny brown blur tearing through the sky like a bullet, headed straight for her chest.

But before it could collide with her, Veer’s hand snapped out. His palm closed around the bird in mid-flight with startling precision.

The sparrow squirmed furiously, its feathers ruffled, its eyes brimming with tears. It glared up at Veer, furious at being caught, its tiny body trembling with the effort to break free.

The sparrow blinked up at Kaya, its tiny body trembling in Veer’s grip, eyes still glossy with unshed tears. But when Kaya’s gaze fell on it, her jaw tightened.

That small brown ball...

This bastard.

She remembered it now—how it had left her alone in those cold, cruel mountains, vanishing the moment she had needed it most. A muscle in her cheek twitched as she gritted her teeth, anger flickering in her chest.

Veer’s Amber eyes, however, were fixed on the sparrow, a glint of quiet fury simmering there. His fingers curled slightly as if tempted to squeeze. The bird squawked, sensing the danger.

And Kaya? Instead of rescuing it, she simply turned her head away with deliberate indifference.

"Chirp! Chirp, chirp!"

(Wait! Where are you going!)

the sparrow cried in a frantic, off-key tone, its wings flapping helplessly as if begging her to look back.

But Kaya didn’t spare it even a glance. She only crossed her arms, her expression cold, leaving the matter to Veer.

Let him handle it. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

This ungrateful little creature always disappeared the moment she needed him. Always. If the sparrow thought it could come rushing back and expect forgiveness, it was sorely mistaken.

No—this damn bird needed to learn a lesson.

.

.

.

.

Twenty gruesome minutes later, the sparrow sat perched on a rock, feathers bent in every impossible direction, a few even missing entirely. His tiny head looked half-bald, as if someone had gone straight for a makeover without consent.

He hopped silently onto the opposite tree bark, eyes narrowed and beady, but not a single chirp escaped his beak. His entire posture screamed defeat, as if some invisible force had drained the very life from him.

Kaya crossed her arms, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. Veer couldn’t help but glance at her, shaking his head slightly, though he hid a grin behind his hand.

The sparrow, once so bold and reckless, now sat in stoic silence—punished, humbled, and utterly broken.

Kaya sat cross-legged, peeling some walnuts—though nobody really knew where they had come from. The shells were still soft, making the task easy for her nimble fingers.