But how could anything in Kaya’s life ever be simple?

She only smiled, watching them. She didn’t say a word. The women were laughing, chatting about ordinary things, the kind that made nights feel softer than they really were.

Then one of them, who had been quietly studying Kaya’s hand, suddenly spoke.

"Oh dear, how many scars do you have on your hand?"

Kaya’s ears burned. For some reason, that simple question felt hotter than any flame.

"Kaya?" Hilary called gently.

Kaya just shook her head and forced a small smile. "Oh, no, no, it’s okay. I just... got injured while living alone."

Hearing that, the women frowned and glanced at one another. Then the same woman spoke again, her tone slipping into something faintly motherly.

"Child... did you get hurt often?"

The chatter around them slowed, like someone had quietly closed a door. The laughter faded to a distant murmur. Kaya’s smile didn’t disappear, but it thinned—polite, practiced, carefully held in place.

She tilted her hand slightly, as if only now noticing the pale lines crossing her skin. Old, uneven, each one a story she had long stopped listening to.

"It wasn’t like that," she said gently. Too gently. "Living alone just... teaches you lessons fast."

The women exchanged looks again. This time, their eyes held no curiosity, only something heavier—regret, concern. One of them reached out without thinking, then stopped halfway, her fingers hovering above Kaya’s hand before she quietly pulled them back.

"That must’ve been hard," Hilary murmured.

Kaya nodded once. She didn’t trust her voice anymore. The laughter around them slowly restarted, forced at first, then louder than necessary—as if everyone had agreed to pretend nothing had happened.

Kaya sat there smiling, as if the warmth in her chest wasn’t burning, as if the past hadn’t just brushed its fingers against her skin.

After a moment, the woman paused, then asked, almost casually, "What about your mates? Were they not help you ?"

At that, the women turned to look at Veer and the others with pure, unfiltered rage. The men, who had been pretending not to listen, stiffened. Under that collective glare, Veer and the others lowered their heads at once.

What could they do?

They could fight monsters. They could tear through beasts and enemies without blinking. But defy a group of angry women?

Never.

In Veer’s eyes, women were far more dangerous than any monster—and tonight, he was being proven right.

Kaya just shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. "Well, my parents died when I was young. After that, I lived alone."

Another woman couldn’t stay quiet. She leaned forward, confused. "But what about your tribe? Doesn’t a tribe take care of you?"

To them, the question was natural. In this world, women were precious. Even if parents died, the tribe would step in. A woman living alone, covered in scars—that wasn’t normal at all.

Kaya smiled. This, at least, was easy to answer. Easier than the truth.

"My parents wanted to live alone," she said. "They didn’t like living in tribes. So after they got together, they left their tribes and started living by themselves. When they died, their tribe didn’t even know. And even when they did find out... they couldn’t handle it. Like my parents, it hit them hard. So after that, they just left me alone."

By the time she finished, several women had tears in their eyes. Hilary covered her mouth. One gently wiped her cheeks. Another shook her head, whispering, "Poor child..."

Veer, however, simply stared at Kaya.

Sometimes he genuinely couldn’t believe how easily this woman lied through her teeth.

He didn’t know how her parents had really died. He didn’t know what kind of life she’d actually lived. But he knew one thing for sure: Kaya didn’t have that kind of filial affection for them. Not once, all this time, had he ever seen that look in her eyes when parents were mentioned.

If anything, whenever her parents came up—even by accident—there was only hatred there. Hatred and annoyance, sharp as a blade hiding behind that soft, practiced smile.

Veer watched all of this with a smile as Kaya laughed, listening to everyone’s words, sitting wherever she wanted with that polite tone of hers. Even eating whatever they gave her—sometimes Veer was shocked by the sight. He hadn’t known Kaya could accept food from others so readily. Even what he and Cutie offered, she’d eat after deep thought, pausing a few moments first. It felt like real progress from before.

They still remembered the first time they met Kaya, that first shared meal. Back then, she wouldn’t touch the food—always cautious, always on guard. But now, seeing her eat calmly, Veer felt quietly delighted. He just wanted her not to hate the whole world because of a few nuisances.[1]

It’s said if you want to know a place, ask the locals. If you want to know someone, ask the women. Just talking to them, their gossip flowed endlessly, and Kaya learned a lot: how elves preferred staying alone and silent, yet were friendly types who lived far longer than other beastmen—the oldest maybe 150 to 200 years. It was Kaya’s guess; these people didn’t count years properly, just moons seen, so she couldn’t fully trust the numbers. Still, she figured it was about right.

But they were smart. Kaya had to admit, they were among the smartest she’d met. When their eyes landed on Kaya’s pouch—the bag she’d crafted—their gazes lit up with admiration. They were impressed, sharing tips on adding pockets to improve it, easier paths to key spots, and warnings on what to avoid—how certain things were dangerously deadly.

The night wove on with easy chatter, Kaya’s guarded edges softening just a bit more.

Veer watched it all unfold with a quiet smile, his eyes tracking Kaya as she laughed freely, absorbed every word thrown her way, and settled wherever she pleased with that deceptively polite tone of hers. Even the way she ate—accepting food from the women without hesitation—left him stunned. He hadn’t known she could do that. Accept anything so easily.

Even with him and Cutie, she’d pause. Always. Her eyes would narrow slightly, studying the food like it might bite back, before she’d finally take a careful bite. It was progress, sure—but slow, cautious progress. Nothing like this.

He still remembered their first meal together. How she’d stared at the food he’d offered like it was laced with poison. How she wouldn’t touch a single bite, her walls higher than any mountain.[1] Back then, survival mode was all she knew—trust no one, question everything.

But now? Watching her calmly eat, laugh, even relax?

Veer felt something loosen in his chest. A quiet, unexpected delight.

Good,he thought. Don’t let a few rotten souls ruin the whole damn world for you.

There’s an old saying: if you want to know about a place, ask the locals. If you want to know about someone? Ask the women.

And gods, these women could *talk*.

Their gossip flowed like a river with no dam, and Kaya soaked it all in. She learned about the elves—how they preferred solitude and silence, yet were surprisingly warm once you broke through their shell. How they lived far longer than other beastmen, some reaching 150, even 200 years.