Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands
Chapter 61 --61

Chapter 61: Chapter-61

But amidst all the facts and observations, Kaya uncovered something that—oddly—brought her a sigh of relief. A very important piece of information about these beastmen: anything smaller than a human palm couldn’t transform.

That meant no cockroach beastmen. No centipede warriors. No nightmarish silkworm hybrids with creepy eyes. Thank the stars for that. Kaya actually let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Because honestly, if she had to live in constant fear of offending a beetle with royal lineage or stepping on a baby scorpion prince, she might as well pack her bags and walk into the sea.

Now, at least, she didn’t have to worry about accidentally committing bug-murder and starting an interspecies war.

But the comfort didn’t last long. Because with this new logic came a rather annoying question.

Apparently—according to these sheep folks—all small creatures remained as they were. No sudden size growth. No transformation. No nothing. A cockroach stayed a cockroach. A beetle stayed a beetle. And yet...

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of him. That smug little sparrow, lazily sunbathing on a nearby rock like he owned the tribe. The local females practically fawned over him, cooing and giggling like he was the fluffiest thing they’d ever seen. Kaya didn’t get it. She really didn’t.

And then it hit her.

How in the world did that tiny body turn into something chicken-sized when it wanted to fight? She’d seen it. She knew what she saw. That thing puffed up like a feathered balloon and started throwing kicks like he was auditioning for some bird-version of martial arts. So how?

Why did he get to grow bigger?

She crossed her arms and squinted harder. "That’s not science. That’s cheating," she muttered to herself.

The sparrow was living his best life. Absolute bliss. Sunshine, soft winds, and a tribe full of adoring eyes. Compared to his old days—where that she devil kept scaring him half to death just for fun—this was heaven.

True, unfiltered, feather-ruffling heaven.

Everything felt fair in this little paradise... until it didn’t.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, like someone had dumped icy water on him. He felt it—a glare. Not just any glare, but one sharp enough to pierce feathers. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head.

And there she was.

Kaya.

Staring at him.

Her eyes were dark. Dangerously calm. Her jaw was clenched, her teeth grinding silently like a warrior suppressing the urge to smite something.

The sparrow froze. He tried to turn away casually, but panic got the better of him. A nervous bead of sweat—or spit?—formed on his head, and he instinctively fluffed up his feathers in defense. But it was useless. That glare pinned him like a spear.

Chrippp....

(Does this she-devil...

Did she find out I’m a beastman too?)

The sparrow’s tiny heart nearly leapt out of his chest. That glare Kaya had fixed on him—it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t casual. It was personal. Like she had just connected some dangerous dots in that sharp, terrifying mind of hers.

Back when the snake got caught, the sparrow had seriously considered it. Turning back. Letting her witness his majestic form—show her just how glorious he could be when not covered in feathers. He even practiced the pose in his head: windswept hair, a half-smirk, one foot on a rock for dramatic effect. He was ready.

But then... then he saw what she did to the snake. How she looked at him like he was dirt. How she reacted to his presence with the kind of energy people usually reserved for things that needed stabbing. And not just reacting—she almost killed him.

Yeah. That’s when all his brave fantasies flew straight out the window.

He was terrified.

Even that damn rabbit had stepped in to protect the snake, but only because he looked pretty and usefull. That was it. That was the standard: safe.

A few soft words and a harmless gaze and everyone melted.

The sparrow? In his beastman form, there was no fluff. No long ears. Just raw, feathery charm and toned limbs, which apparently counted for nothing.

If he transformed now, the rabbit would absolutely ignore him. Worse, Kaya might actually think he was trying to flirt. Or deceive. Or do something suspicious. And then—boom—death.

So yeah, no thank you.

Better to stay tiny, harmless, adorable. Pretend to peck at seeds. Stay under the radar.

Live.

Kaya was still glaring.

Not blinking. Not looking away. Just staring—with those narrowed, storm-dark eyes that said you’re next.

The sparrow’s feathers twitched. His heartbeat pounded so loudly in his tiny chest it was a miracle he wasn’t shaking the whole rock he sat on. Each step she took toward him was like a countdown to his funeral.

She was walking.

Towards him.

His tiny legs locked up. Oh gods. He could feel it now. That cold wind of doom. This was it. This was how he died. Not in battle. Not in glory. But at the hands of a silent woman with sharp eyes and no hesitation.

He closed his eyes. Started praying. Not even to one god—just any of them. His ancestors. Forest spirits. Even that old cranky mole who once cursed him. Anyone. Please. Save me. Let me live to see the next sunrise. I’ll stop preening so much, I swear—

But then...

She walked past him.

Just like that.

Didn’t even spare him a glance.

The sparrow’s eyes fluttered open in slow disbelief as she walked right by him and crouched down next to a tiny sheep that had been darting around in innocent, clueless joy.

She bent down and gently patted the little thing’s head.

The sheep let out a happy, delighted bleat—tail wiggling, eyes sparkling, as if the world had just gifted it the highest honor imaginable.

The sparrow, meanwhile, just stood there. Stiff. Sweating. Traumatized.

He blinked.

What just happened?

As he opened his eyes and saw a smile on Kaya’s face as she was playing with sheep.