Kaya frowned, her grip on the knife tightening slightly.
The healer gently pushed the blade aside with one finger. "Relax. I can tell by your hands—you know how to kill. But listen, we didn’t scam anyone. It was his own fault. He never bothered to ask about the deal before agreeing. Who in their right mind offers that much food in trade? He’s a vulture prince. If he’d told us, we would’ve done it for a handful of crumbs."
He sighed, glancing at the limp sparrow on the bed. "He’s light as a feather. Feed him properly. And for a few days—no flying."
The healer was about to turn around to gather herbs when Kaya’s voice stopped him. She reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Wait," she said.
He turned back, slightly surprised, and t her eyes.
Kaya hesitated, her brows knitting. "Um... he’s just tired, right? There’s nothing else wrong with him?"
The healer studied her face for a mont—then smiled faintly. "Huh. You know, Sparrow Beastn aren’t exactly considered useful. To most, they’re... worthless. I’ve never seen anyone care about a Sparrow Beastman before."
Kaya frowned sharply. "What the hell do you an by that? They’re Beastn—of course they’re living beings. Why wouldn’t I care?"
The healer’s smile deepened, a little crooked. "Do you even know why a sparrow beca a Beastman?" he asked. "Before Beastn existed, the world was full of small animals. It’s said that only those tiny enough to fit in a gods hand were chosen by the gods to transform. But the sparrow—" he paused, shaking his head— "it didn’t fit. Not completely."
Kaya instinctively glanced down at her own hand. She rembered how easily the little bird could fit in her palm. But when she looked at the healer’s larger hands, she realized—maybe it really couldn’t fit in his.
"There were other small birds too," the healer went on, his voice taking on a dull, reflective tone. "But except for the sparrows, most never beca Beastn. A few did. Most just... died."
Kaya’s brows furrowed. "Died?" she echoed softly.
The healer nodded, glancing at the unconscious sparrow on the bed. "You see, vultures like Veer survive by hunting. Peacocks, eagles, even parrots—they can fight, defend themselves. But sparrows?" His tone shifted, a faint mockery seeping in. "They can’t hunt. They can’t kill. Most of them are eaten by predators before they even grow old."
He looked back at Kaya, then gestured toward the small figure lying still on the bed. "They stay hidden in their tiny tribes, afraid to step outside. And look at him—no beauty in his wings, no bright colors, no elegant voice like a nightingale’s. Just plain brown, dusty feathers. Nothing remarkable."
He gave a faint, humorless chuckle. "No females wanted them. Even the males didn’t consider them worth much. So tell , why are you worried about him?"
Kaya took a slow step forward, her gaze sharp as a blade. "Why I care about him," she said coolly, "isn’t sothing you need to worry about. I asked a simple question—just answer it." Her voice dropped a notch, firm but steady. "And anyway, who decides who’s useful or not? You?"
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. "If the sparrow has nothing good, then what? Do you have sothing better to say? Or are you just good at judging others?"
The healer froze, caught off guard by the quiet fire in her tone. Then, slowly, a smile curved his lips. "You’re... quite interesting," he murmured. "Now I understand why those idiots—ah, I an, those people—are all so crazy about you."
Kaya frowned. "What?" she started, but the healer only chuckled and turned away.
He gathered a few herbs, crushed them into powder, and handed a small pouch to Kaya. "Boil this in water and make him drink it," he said. "He’ll be fine after so rest. Nothing serious—just weakness."
With that, the healer left the room. Kaya wanted to call out, to ask him one last question—but she stopped herself. A flicker of anger simred inside her. No matter where you go, there’s always soone ready to judge, she thought bitterly. Always deciding who’s useful and who’s not.
She turned her gaze to the bed where the sparrow lay. In his human form, he looked barely older than a teenager. His fra was thin—thinner than before—and there were dark circles beneath his eyes, shadows of exhaustion that made him look even smaller.
Kaya pulled a stool closer and sat down, her elbows resting on her knees. "Not useful, huh..." she murmured under her breath. "Who says sparrows aren’t?" A faint smile tugged at her lips as a mory slipped in—of her childhood, chasing little brown sparrows across courtyards, their chirps like laughter in the wind. They were my favorite birds.
Her expression softened, then turned thoughtful again. "People like to talk too much," she muttered. "Annoying—just want to judge everyone."
She sighed, dipped a cloth into the bowl of cool water, and wrung it gently before placing it over the sparrow’s burning forehead. The touch was careful, almost tender, as the cloth soaked up the fever’s heat. For a mont, the room went quiet—only the faint sound of his uneven breathing and the soft drip of water breaking the silence.
That day, when Veer and Cutie ca by, insisting she rest while they took care of the sparrow, Kaya just shook her head. She was restless anyway, and decided to stay by his side.
Honestly, in Kaya’s mind, if she had to trust anyone in this whole beast-filled world, it would be this "useless" sparrow. Perhaps it was her training—reading people, guessing character in a single glance—or maybe it was just instinct, but from the mont she t him, she knew: this irritating, clumsy, and utterly idiotic bird was not a traitor.
Nothing he had done earned her trust—at least, not in any conventional sense. Yet sohow, her heart had made its choice. If she had to pick between Veer, Cutie, and the sparrow to rely on for her life, she would choose this little fool.
Yes, he was useless. Yes, he had nearly killed her more than once. But she knew, with absolute certainty, that he would never harm her by his own hand.
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