Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 404 --.

That Veer was no child.

That he was older than some of them.

That he was the tribe leader, using his own money, playing with danger like he always had.

That this wasn’t the first time his life had been on the line.

That it was Veer’s father himself who’d ordered them to follow the prince blindly, no questions asked, no matter how reckless.

But of course, none of that mattered here.

No matter how wrong the boss was, the blame always slid downhill. It landed on the ones standing in front of him now.

So they lowered their heads, wings tight to their sides, swallowed their protests, and took it in silence.

Veer’s father stared at the line of warriors in front of him and felt his blood pressure go up.

Useless. Every single one of them.

He dragged in a breath through his nose, about to start shouting again, when a careful voice came from the side.

"My lord."

Veer’s father turned, already scowling—then had to squint.

The first thing he saw was light.

More exactly, the shine of a perfectly bald head catching the torch glow.

He lowered his eyes and, yes, there was the rest of the man. His long‑time right hand. Loyal, sharp, annoyingly hard to ignore. But the head was always what people noticed first.

"...What," Veer’s father snapped.

The bald man—Robert—stepped forward, folding his hands politely.

"My lord," he said, "there is a way to make that woman leave on her own... and even make the young lord hate her."

Veer’s father paused.

He looked Robert up and down with open suspicion. A way? To make her get out ’and’ have Veer angry at her? That sounded almost too neat.

"A way?" he repeated. "What way?"

Robert’s mouth tilted into a small, sly smile.

"My lord," he said, "have you noticed? That woman has been here so long with the young lord... but she has never once called him her mate. Not spouse. Not anything."

Veer’s father just stared at him.

For a full moment, his face went blank in a very dangerous way.

Then he said, very slowly, "First, how many times have I told you to stop with this ’young lord, young master’ nonsense? You sound like my wife. He’s my ’son’, not your heir."

"Second—what does it matter if she calls him mate or not? I want that woman ’out’ of the tribe, not turned into my daughter‑in‑law."

Robert sighed and shook his shiny head.

"My lord," he said, patient now, "you are missing my point."

He lifted one finger.

"No matter how much our young lord does for her, she has never called him spouse. So... how about this?"

Veer’s father narrowed his eyes. "Don’t play games, Robert. Say it."

"You," Robert said, "go to her and say: if she wants to stay in the vulture tribe, she must marry the young lord."

For a heartbeat, Veer’s father just blinked.

Then his feathers puffed, face turning red.

"Robert," he growled, "when your hair fell out, did your brain fall with it? Are you crazy? You want me to ’make’ that woman marry my son? Before that happens, I’ll throw her off the cliff myself!"

Robert flapped his hands fast.

"No, no, my lord—you misunderstand. Listen." He leaned in a little. "You’re not ’really’ trying to marry them. You just put the condition there. You know how she is. That woman will definitely refuse. She will leave the tribe on her own. The young lord will be heartbroken, yes, but he can’t blame you."

His tone and posture matched typical persuasive tactics—open palms, eye contact, leaning slightly forward—the kind people use when pushing an idea they know will be unpopular but think is clever.

Veer’s father stared at him like he’d grown a second shiny head.

"And what," he said slowly, "if she ’accepts’? Huh? Then what? Why are you so sure she would reject it?"

Robert straightened, face going serious for once.

"My lord," he said, "I have watched that female for a long time. How she talks. How she stands. How she looks at him." He shook his head firmly. "I am one hundred percent sure she will not agree. Not at any cost."

Veer’s father looked at him a long moment, weighing it.

Robert hurried to finish before his courage leaked out.

"My lord, I give you my word," he said, hand on his chest. "That woman will definitely run away from here."

Veer’s father stared at him for a long second, eyes narrow.

"Okay," he said slowly. "And if she doesn’t? Then what?"

Robert’s mouth went dry. He hesitated, then lifted one hand and tapped his shining head.

"If she accepts it," he said, forcing a grin, "your shoes, my head, my lord."

The room went very still.

Veer’s father just looked at him. Then, after a heartbeat, he stepped closer and laid a heavy hand on Robert’s shoulder.

"Robert," he said, voice almost gentle, "you are my most loyal subordinate. You’ve been with me for years."

Robert managed a nervous smile. "Of course, my lord. You know I—"

"I hold you very dear in my heart," Veer’s father went on smoothly. "But I promise you... if she accepts this offer—if, because of you, my son ends up married to that bitch—I will beat you to death myself and give you the most ’honourable’ death for a vulture."

He patted Robert’s shoulder twice, almost kindly.

Every vulture in the room shivered.

In their heads they were already preparing small, respectful speeches for Robert’s funeral. If this plan failed, they’d need them.

Robert’s knees wobbled. He swallowed hard. "Y‑yes, my lord," he croaked.

Inside, he was praying to every god he’d ever heard of. ’Please. Please let that crazy woman say no. Please let her scream and run and throw rocks, anything but say yes.’

Unbeknownst to him, even the Lord was taking a coffee break from Kaya’s shenanigans and had decided to hit snooze on his prayers this time!