After one week, Kaya could finally get out of bed.
Get out—that was all.
Walking still hurt. Every step sent a dull, lingering ache through her body, like her bones hadn't fully agreed to belong to her again. She leaned on the edge of the bed, breathing through it, steady but irritated, because she hated feeling weak more than she hated pain.
Honestly, she felt like saluting those heroines from reverse novels—the ones with seven or eight husbands, collecting them like trophies.
How do they even survive this?
Kaya couldn't understand it. Here she was, barely alive after being bedded by only two beastmen. And they had tried—truly tried—to be gentle.
Still, she had felt close to death.
No. Not close.
This time, it felt like she had already met the god of death—looked him straight in the eye—
And somehow, staggered back.
.
.
.
As Kaya stepped out of the room, her eyes immediately fell on Veer.
