CHAPTER 195: CHAPTER-195

Veer shot him a narrow look. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Tara only smirked, clearly enjoying the jab. "Nothing, nothing... just saying, my friend, you’re not exactly known for bringing company."

Kaya stayed quiet, offering only a slight smile at Tara’s words. Just by looking at her, one might think she wasn’t the fighting type at all.

Anyway she did know one of the simplest rules of survival—it’s basic, really. In some places, you bend. In others, you hide your true self. Kaya understood that well enough, and she certainly wasn’t about to forget it here.

Tara had given them a smaller cave than his own. It had a rough wooden table, a bed made of grass, and a modest supply of food. Nothing much, but it was clearly meant as a guest room for visitors.

There was just one problem—no water for bathing. Drinking water, yes. But if Kaya wanted to wash, she’d have to go down to the nearby river.

She picked out a white dress with delicate floral patterns, light and airy, then glanced at Veer.

"River," she said softly. "You coming?"

Veer, sprawled out with his eyes half-shut, just waved her off. "Go without me. I’m not moving."

She shook her head with a faint smile. "Lazy."

Taking her time, she followed the narrow path down to the river. When she arrived, she was surprised to see so many women there—more than she had expected, and many of them strikingly beautiful.

A few of them paused to glance at her. One, a tall girl with bright eyes, stepped closer.

"You’re new here," she said, voice curious but not unkind.

Kaya smiled lightly. "Just visiting for a few days."

Another girl, sitting on a smooth rock, tilted her head. "From the way you dress, I’d guess... not from around here."

"Not even close," Kaya replied, crouching to touch the cool water.

The tall girl’s lips curved into a knowing grin. "Then you’ll like this river. Best place to wash away travel dust."

Kaya laughed softly, letting the water slip through her fingers. "I can already tell."

Not all the women spoke to her—some just returned to their own washing, their movements graceful and unhurried. But the quiet charm they carried made the riverside feel warm and strangely welcoming.

.

.

.

Kaya had never expected that after a simple bath, she would walk back to such a scene.

For context—the last time she had spoken to Sparrow, she’d asked him how he managed to copy things so perfectly. He had explained that it wasn’t limitless; he could only make three copies of any original item. That was why he couldn’t produce multiple versions of her gun. So, instead, Kaya had asked him to make three duplicates of each of her bullets.

By the end of it, she had sixty-five bullets in total. They were precious—almost irreplaceable—and she’d hidden them deep in the innermost part of her bag, cushioned beneath layers of freshly washed clothes so no one could see them at a glance.

But now, as she stepped into the room, droplets of water still clinging to her hair, her eyes froze.

All sixty-five bullets lay scattered across the floor, rolling slightly as if they’d only just been tossed there. Her bag had been overturned, clothes thrown carelessly to one side. And standing a few feet away was Veer—his brows drawn tight, one hand gripping his head, his jaw set in clear irritation.

Kaya’s face went dark in an instant, her eyes narrowing to sharp slits.

One thing she could never forgive was someone rummaging through her belongings.

She crossed the space between them in three quick, deliberate steps, her boots scraping against the stone floor. Without hesitation, she swung a punch straight toward Veer’s face.

Veer’s eyes widened—he barely caught her wrist in time, the force of the blow making his arm jolt back a half step. His shoulders tensed as he held her fist mid-air.

"Are you out of your mind?" he snapped, his voice wavering between irritation and defense.

Kaya leaned forward into his hold, her glare unwavering. "What the hell are you doing with my things?" she said through gritted teeth, her voice low and seething.

Veer’s brows furrowed, his grip still locked on her hand. "You think I wanted to touch your crap? Hah. No way. But this—this ogre—!" He broke off with a sharp groan, his other hand flying to the side of his head. His body bent forward slightly as if the sound itself weighed him down.

Kaya blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change in posture. Her fist loosened just a little. "What the hell are you acting out right now?"

"You think I’m acting?" Veer’s voice rose, his jaw tight with pain. "There’s this sound—this ping—like someone’s driving a nail into my skull. It’s coming from your bag."

Her eyes flicked to his face. He wasn’t faking it—there was a tight strain in his features, the kind that didn’t come from bad acting. Still, she turned to her bag, knelt down, and closed her eyes, one hand hovering over the flap as she listened.

Silence. Not even a whisper.

She straightened and shot him an incredulous look. "Have you gone completely insane? What sound? I hear nothing."

Veer pointed sharply, his arm trembling slightly from the tension. "Right there. That cursed bag. You seriously can’t hear it? It’s—ugh—like an ogre pounding on my head." His grip on his temple tightened, and his shoulders hunched as though bracing against invisible blows.

Kaya’s anger dulled into bafflement. She stepped back to her bag, her fingers brushing over the worn fabric, eyes scanning every fold and shadow. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she reached inside just enough to move a few things around.

Then she turned her head toward Veer, her expression unreadable, and lifted one finger to beckon him over.

Veer took a sharp step back, shaking his head. "Not a chance. The sound’s worse up close."

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping into that dangerous calm that never boded well for anyone on the receiving end.

"Veer. Come. Here."