CHAPTER 322: CHAPTER-322

She wanted to eat something warm, something she couldn’t cook in her small travel kit right now.

And as they wandered further, to the opposite end of the market from where they had first arrived, she found it — a food market.

The air there was rich with smells — spices, grilled meat, sweet dough, and roasted corn.

Right at the entrance stood a man, his sleeves rolled up, turning corn over a bed of glowing coal. The crackling sound of fire mixed with the gentle hiss of roasting kernels. A faint scent of salt and smoke brushed past Kaya’s nose.

A small smile tugged at Kaya’s lips. She looked away for a moment before slowly walking toward the stall.

The scent of roasted corn was warm and smoky, with that faint sweetness that reminded her of late summers. Standing in front of the small cart, Kaya pointed toward the golden cobs. "Sweet corn?" she asked.

The vendor — a broad, muscular man with a short horn curling from the side of his head — turned to look at her. From his solid build and earthy scent, Kaya guessed he was from some bull tribe. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of her; small, pretty, and clearly not local.

"You look like a new one here, huh?" he said with a deep chuckle. There was a hint of friendliness in his tone, though his rough voice made it sound more like a growl than a greeting.

Kaya nodded. "Is this sweet corn?"

"Sweet... what?" he repeated, tilting his head.

Kaya blinked, realizing her mistake. Damn it. English again. She hesitated for a second, then pointed at the corn with a faintly embarrassed smile. "Uh, this—what is it?"

The man glanced at the corn and replied proudly, "Ah, this is makai."

"Makai," Kaya repeated carefully.

He chuckled and corrected her, "Ma-kai."

"Ma-kai," she tried again, this time with a tiny helpless smile. Her hand went to the back of her neck, rubbing it as she looked down shyly. "And... how much is it?" she asked after a pause, her voice soft but curious. "Like... um, how much for one?"

The beastman grinned, showing slightly pointed teeth. "Ten grams of meat for one cob. But if you want salt and lemon"—he lifted a small bowl and winked—"thirty grams per piece."

Hearing that, Kaya frowned — not because of the price, but because of what he’d asked for in return. "Meat?" she repeated softly, her tone curious rather than critical. Tilting her head slightly, she asked, "Aren’t you from the Bull Tribe?"

The vendor blinked in surprise at her question, then chuckled proudly. "Yes, of course!" He patted his broad chest with a thud, his grin wide and confident. "I am from the Bull Tribe — the strongest and best tribe in the capital."

Kaya smiled faintly at his boasting. "Then why do you need meat? I thought bulls don’t eat meat."

At that, the vendor sighed, leaning an elbow on his stall with a weary expression. "Ah, little miss, I don’t eat it. Not really. But meat is what we use for trade and taxes. We don’t have much choice," he said, shrugging with a hint of helplessness. "We keep it for rations, to pay the city guards and collectors. You understand?"

Kaya’s brows furrowed slightly in thought, but she didn’t press further. She simply nodded and said, "Three, then. With salt and lemon."

The vendor’s face brightened again. He quickly grabbed the cobs, sprinkled coarse salt over them, and squeezed lemon juice that hissed faintly on the hot kernels. Then he wrapped them neatly in the same dried peels and handed them over.

They were still burning hot when Kaya took one. The first bite — smoky, tangy, sweet — made her eyes soften in delight. As they walked away from the stall, with Cutie and Veer beside her, the air around them felt lighter.

Soon, they found a small pond at the edge of the market — a calm spot surrounded by laughter and the rustle of trees. People were sitting nearby, talking, playing. Kaya lowered herself onto the grass, took another bite of her corn, and let herself breathe.

"Chirp, chirp, chirp!"

She froze. Something wriggled in her pocket.

Kaya blinked, then remembered — the sparrow.

The tiny creature had been sleeping soundly all this time, but the smell of the roasted corn must’ve woken it. Its small belly growled as it wriggled free, hopping onto her lap with puffed-up feathers and sleepy eyes that widened at the sight of the golden corn.

Just as it stretched its wings to snatch a bite, Kaya casually turned the cob away and took another mouthful.

The sparrow froze mid-hop. Then it chirped furiously, hopping up and down, pointing its little wing at her as if accusing her of betrayal.

Cutie snorted quietly, hiding a smile, and even Veer’s cold face softened with amusement.

Veer blew on his corn and took a slow, deliberate bite — right in front of the sparrow. Then, as if to make things worse, he licked the lemon and salt from the edge and let out a satisfied hum, loud enough for the little bird to hear. "Mmm... so good," he said, almost theatrically, his expression smug.

Kaya was quietly eating her own corn, pretending not to notice.

Meanwhile, the sparrow was practically trembling with rage. His feathers puffed up, his tiny wings flared, and he pointed his little feathered tip first at Veer — then at Kaya — as if declaring both of them traitors.

"Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!" He was yelling now, voice sharp and indignant, like someone whose entire world had just collapsed over a single roasted corn.

Before he could continue his dramatic protest, Kaya sighed, grabbed her half-eaten corn, and — without hesitation — stuffed it straight into his open beak.

The sparrow froze, blinking in shock. The golden cob was practically pressed against his face.

"Stop shouting," Kaya said firmly, her tone carrying that calm authority she always had when dealing with him. "And you can only eat a little. Your stomach still isn’t good, and too much corn will make it worse. So shut up—" she pressed the cob gently closer, "—and eat."