CHAPTER 149: CHAOTER -149.

After some much-needed rest and wrapping herself in thick, folded layers of white cotton cloth, Kaya was finally feeling a little better.

The worst of the pain had dulled to a heavy throb, and the heat in her limbs had settled into a manageable ache. But the annoyance—that was still burning sharp beneath her skin.

She sat up slowly, covering her face with her palm, letting out a long, silent sigh.

Frustration simmered deep in her chest.

Her mentor’s voice echoed in her head, as clear as if she were standing beside her:

"Always track your cycle. Always be prepared. Your body gives you warnings—don’t ignore them."

Kaya let out a soft groan and muttered under her breath,

"Yeah, well... what if the damn thing refuses to follow the rules?"

Because that was the problem.

It never came when it was supposed to.

Her cycle had never been regular. It would skip a month. Then two. Sometimes, it came early. Sometimes, like now, it came like a storm with no warning—cruel and merciless.

Normally, she could tell. Her legs would ache. Her waist would tighten. Her body always sent little signals. Always.

But lately, she’d been so caught up in everything—building shelter, sorting supplies, organizing the fox tribe, protecting the Nikala beastmen—that her body’s whispers had been drowned out by the shouting of responsibility.

And the pain this time?

It hadn’t come gently. No creeping warning. No dull ache to prepare her.

It had exploded. Like a bomb.

A bomb, she realized bitterly, probably triggered by her own neglect. She hadn’t eaten properly in days. Her protein intake had dropped. Her sleep had been erratic. She was constantly on her feet.

Of course it hit this hard.

Kaya dropped her hand from her face, eyes narrowing at the ceiling.

"Damn it," she muttered.

But what mattered most right now—was sanitization. That was the core issue.

Even in war, she’d always managed to carry alcohol. Some kind of antiseptic. Something. At the very least, she had clean pads. But here? In this world?

Nothing. Not even a whisper of familiarity.

Kaya grabbed her forehead in rising frustration, her fingers digging into her scalp. She couldn’t keep using that white cotton cloth without knowing if it was truly clean. Not when her body was already vulnerable.

What if an infection spreads?

And no, it wasn’t some baseless paranoia. In her world, she’d studied real history—gruesome facts, not just forgotten stories. So many women had died from using unsanitary cloth during their cycles. Their deaths weren’t dramatic—they were silent, slow, and cruel.

She exhaled shakily, mind racing for a solution. Anything.

Then her gaze, almost desperately scanning her surroundings, landed on the two baskets beside her—the ones filled with leaves. She had just finished sorting through one of them. The other still sat untouched.

Her eyes narrowed.

There... tucked in the middle of the bunch, something familiar caught her eye. A small breath hitched in her throat as she leaned forward, stomach cramping again, but she pushed through. Her fingers reached for the leaf, trembling slightly.

She held it up.

Her breath froze.

Kaya blinked twice, then brought the leaf closer to her face.

No way.

She sniffed it.

Her lips parted in disbelief.

It was. It really was.

Neem. A real neem leaf.

Kaya was dumbfounded. "How the hell did I miss this?" she whispered under her breath.

Her fingers tightened around the leaf.

Normally, she wouldn’t have even considered it. Neem was fine for wounds—she had used it plenty of times as an antibacterial paste, and it worked. But this?

Using it like this?

Kaya’s nose scrunched instinctively. She didn’t like the idea at all.

But what could she do?

She remembered her grandmother’s voice, the way she used to say it with a shrug, "We didn’t have pads back then, child. Neem leaves were our saviors."

That memory alone gave her the push she needed.

Kaya took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders, and stood up slowly. Her leg still ached, but she noticed the sharp edge of pain had dulled. The magical medicine... was actually working. That was something.

She tucked the neem leaf into the side of her waistband and stepped outside.

The moment her foot crossed the threshold, everything stilled.

Every beastman working outside froze.

Completely.

One by one, they all snapped their heads toward her—eyes widening, faces slowly flushing a deep, noticeable red. And then—they covered their mouths and noses with the palms of their hands like they’d walked into a toxic gas cloud.

Kaya blinked, stunned.

What the hell?

She looked around, half-expecting smoke or something foul behind her.

But nothing. Just air.

Clean air.

Yet here they were—every single one of them, looking anywhere but at her, their faces red, their breathing ragged. Some of them trembled. Trembled.

She took a step forward, confused—and instinctively, they took three steps back.

In perfect, unholy unison.

"What in the beast gods’ name...?" Kaya muttered, her brows furrowing.

They avoided her gaze like she was some plague victim. It was bizarre. No, worse than bizarre—it was unnerving.

She stepped forward again. They backed away again, almost choreographed. Like she was a cursed spirit. Like her mere presence was too much.

Kaya’s jaw clenched.

Was this because of her smell?

Her stomach twisted, not from pain, but from humiliation.

What the hell is wrong with all of them?

And then—like a summoned fairy in a tale—Cutie appeared right in front of her. Just popped into place like magic.

His face turned scarlet as soon as he laid eyes on her.

One hand shot up to cover his mouth, while the other hovered awkwardly at his side.

"Is... is there anything you need?" he asked, voice muffled and eyes darting away from hers.

Kaya stared at him, completely done with this nonsense.

"Is there a plague I don’t know about? A curse? Some hidden enemy only I can’t see?" Her tone rose with every question, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "Why the hell are you all running away like I just murdered your ancestors?"

Cutie flinched at her words.

But he didn’t speak. His lips parted, but no explanation came. Just a hesitant shake of his head.