Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 310 --.

Kaya stared at their backs for a long beat, then turned and spoke in a flat, cold tone. "Are you done?"

Cutie and Veer—who’d been glaring at the sparrow like they wanted to throttle him—whirled around. Their expressions softened at once.

"What do you mean?" Veer asked, voice warm and mockingly tender. "Wifey—"

Kaya flinched as if struck and snapped, "Yuck. How many times have I told you not to call me that?" She stepped forward until she was a breath from him, gaze hard as flint. "So. What are you two planning, huh?"

For a second the men exchanged a look and paled, then Veer forced a smile and tilted his head. "Planning? Darling, we’re not planning anything. We just brought the warm water for the sparrow, that’s all."

Kaya raised a hand to cut him off. "Veer, I don’t know what kind of scheme you’ve got spinning in that head of yours, but don’t—don’t you dare try to play with me. Try anything and you’ll regret it." Her voice was low and steady, the threat quiet but real.

Veer laughed, soft and coaxing. "Sweetheart, play? No, no — the children are the ones playing outside. Want to go join them? I can take you."

Kaya snorted. "Huh. Whatever." She rolled her eyes. Talking to Veer felt pointless, like banging your head against a pillar — loud, useless, and bound to leave you with a headache.

Kaya turned without another word and walked out.

Outside, the scene was lively — laughter, chatter, the sound of wings — but none of it belonged to her. Whatever.

She made her way toward the healer’s hut. For the past few days, she’d been visiting him, learning about herbs, mixing, and antidotes. Some of the herbs she recognized immediately — a few were dangerous, their scent sharp enough to make her eyes sting. Even so, her hands itched to touch them. She still remembered what had happened the last time she handled poison. The burn. The dizziness. The way her pulse slowed, her body fighting to stay alive.

And yet... she couldn’t stop herself. She needed to know more. Needed to understand it.

Now that she had a healer willing to teach, she wasn’t going to waste the chance.

Her fingers brushed her waist where the first gun rested, slid down to the one strapped to her calf, then found the third tucked against her thigh. Sparrows could copy—threefold—whatever they touched, but Kaya had only ever let him replicate two. She didn’t need a third now; she could save it for later. The originals were in good condition, and a duplicate would do the job when the time came.

Bullets were scarce, but guns were useful even empty. A blank shot could buy time, silence a room, or make someone flinch at the wrong second. Point a gun at the head of a human-form beastman and pull the trigger — it could still end a life. Kaya had learned the hard way that beastmen in full animal form were brutally hard to kill; in human form they were faster, sharper, but still killable if you hit the right spot.

She wanted something more reliable than limited bullets. Poison bombs had worked on missions before: thin glass vials filled with a lethal brew, shattered across a target. Glass and sophisticated explosives didn’t exist here, but there were breakable ceramics, brittle gourds, anything that could mimic a shatter-and-spread effect. The trick was making it small enough to carry and sturdy enough not to break in the wrong hands — especially with Veer, Cutie, or even the sparrow handling it.

For now, she’d study the herbs and learn their poisonous tongues. If she could control them, she could make weapons that didn’t depend on bullets — silent, reliable, and invisible until it was too late.

Kaya strode up to the healer’s doorstep, her basket swinging lightly. The healer’s eyes snapped open, and he frowned so hard it looked like his eyebrows might tie themselves in a knot.

"You’re back... again?" he groaned.

Kaya shrugged, all innocence. "Aren’t you going to teach me? Look, I brought some from yesterday—you taught me."

The healer whipped around. His mouth dropped. Red mushrooms. Poisonous red mushrooms. His hands trembled as he lunged for the basket, yanking it aside like it might leap at him. Then his gaze snapped to her hands. "Check your nails... if they turn purple or red."

He froze mid-breath. "Are you insane? Who picks poison like this? I told you—they’re deadly!" He leaned closer, squinting. "Wait... why aren’t your nails... red? Or blue?"

Kaya tilted her head, smug. "Because I pick them carefully."

The healer blinked, uncomprehending. "Carefully? How?"

"By using a stick," Kaya said, pulling out a thin bamboo stick—like a chopstick.

He stared as if she’d just declared she could wrestle a bear with her pinky. "You... you picked poisonous mushrooms with that... and put them back in your pocket?!"

Kaya shook her head. "No, this is just one. I have ten pairs."

He grabbed it, trying to imitate her hold—but it slipped, spun, and flew from his fingers. His face went pale. "WHAT is this sorcery?!"

Kaya raised an eyebrow and made a cutting motion with her hand. "Chop... stick."

"Chop... stick?" he echoed, voice tight with disbelief.

"Yes. Chop. Stick." Kaya made it sound so simple it was ridiculous.

"Fine," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "So... how do you use it?"

Kaya demonstrated. Her movements weren’t perfect—she was still fumbling—but the precision in her fingers made the healer’s jaw drop. The truth: she barely knew how to use chopsticks properly. But after days of practice, she’d mastered lifting tiny, wriggling, poisonous things without them slipping or jumping onto her. Hands? Impossible. Spoon? Forget it. Chopsticks? Perfect.

Veer had tried to make her some sticks once, failed spectacularly, and then the Panda Tribe had stepped in, crafting smooth bamboo pairs that felt just right. Kaya had spent hours practicing, pretending she was in one of the novels she loved, wielding them like miniature spears of doom. She could lift a mushroom without flinching, without a single tremble.

The healer stared, dumbfounded. "I... I can’t even—how—what—"

Kaya just smiled and tilted the basket. "Your turn."