Chirp—
(Ahhhhhh!)
The poor sparrow pressed himself flat against the basket's woven wall, feathers ruffled and soaked in cold sweat. His beady eyes stared at the snake with utter horror, as if looking at death itself creeping closer with every flick of that forked tongue.
His wings trembled, bound legs twitching helplessly. No escape. No flight. No hope.
To explain it simply—when beastmen entered their weakening period, their powers vanished. Their bodies shrank, vulnerable and fragile, becoming no different from common animals in the human world. For most, it lasted a day or two. But if they were deeply injured or paralyzed by fear? It could last longer. Much longer.
And there was another cruel truth of this cursed world—
Carnivorous beastmen had an advantage.
If one of them devoured another beastman during their weakened state…
They could absorb their strength.
Recover faster.
Even evolve.
The snake hissed low, his coiled body twitching with temptation. His sharp eyes were locked on the trembling sparrow. His mind, clouded with pain from his broken fangs, now surged with animalistic craving.
The sparrow sobbed, a small sound too broken to be called a chirp anymore.
Chirp-chi…chiirrrp…
(Please... I don't want to die… Not like this…)
He wasn't a coward.
He'd once laughed in the faces of vultures twice his size.
But this female—this twisted, cold-hearted female—had reduced him to a sobbing wreck in less than a day.
And now she wanted him eaten.
The snake inched closer, slithering slowly, deliberately. His mouth parted just slightly, enough to let his forked tongue flick over the edge of his lip.
One bite.
One swallow.
And he'd be whole again.
Chripp
(Ekk)
The poor sparrow let out another broken cry, chirping frantically as his tiny, trembling head turned toward the rim of the basket.
There they were.
Dozens of eyes watching him.
Some filled with pity,
Some with reluctant sympathy,
And others—cold and distant, already accepting the end as if it were entertainment.
But the most chilling gaze… belonged to her.
Kaya.
That wretched, fearless woman.
She stood leaning over the basket, her lips curved into a bright, almost mocking smile. Her eyes sparkled—not with mercy, but with a cruel glint of amusement. Like she was enjoying a twisted little play that only she found funny.
Kaya didn't see the others.
She never did when her anger flared.
When her fury took hold, the world vanished.
She didn't care where she was.
Didn't care who watched.
When her rage awakened, it devoured everything else.
"Chirp... chirpppp… eekk!"
(My lady—my mother—please! Let me out… please—!)
The sparrow cried, panic-stricken. His wings fluttered desperately—he managed to lift just an inch into the air—
Only to collapse again with a painful thud, his bruised wing unable to support him. The pain shot through his fragile bones like a lightning bolt.
And the snake—
He was coming closer.
Smiling.
Hehehe…
The serpent's grin was slow, calculated, full of cruel anticipation. His sleek body coiled forward with eerie grace, tongue flicking at the scent of fear.
He was just one step away now.
One bite.
One swallow.
And he'd have it all back—his energy, his power, his venomous pride.
And once he had it—he'd have his revenge too.
The snake's eyes lifted—past the sparrow, locking onto Kaya outside the basket.
That mocking smile of hers only fueled his rage further.
'You'll regret this,' his thoughts hissed as clearly as his voice ever could.
'I'll make you beg for mercy. For daring to trap me. For daring to watch me suffer.'
But Kaya only tilted her head, her expression still sweet, still entertained—like a predator watching another predator squirm.
And somehow… that made her even more terrifying.
Just as the snake opened his mouth to strike—jagged, broken fangs bared—
And just as the poor sparrow shut his eyes tightly, bracing for death—
A sharp hissing sound filled the air. But it didn't come from the snake.
It came from her.
Before anyone could react, Kaya reached into the basket and grabbed the snake by the neck, her fingers firm and unshaking. The snake froze, shocked, his broken fangs barely an inch from the sparrow. Kaya didn't flinch. She simply yanked the snake out, walked over to another cage, and threw him in. The door slammed shut with a loud click.
The sparrow was still trembling, heart pounding like a drum. He opened one eye slowly, expecting heaven… but instead, he saw her.
Kaya turned back and picked him up gently, lifting him to eye level. Her face was unreadable—calm, but a little amused too.
"So," she said, raising a brow. "What were you screaming about?"
The sparrow stared at her for a moment, wide-eyed… and then completely broke down.
Ch...chrippp…hic…hic…UWAAAHHHHH!!
(Hi...hic...I thought I was going to die!!)
Tears welled in his tiny eyes, his wings twitching as he cried. He'd never felt so happy—genuinely happy—to be in a female's hands before.