Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands Chapter 455 --455

Kaya’s chest tightened for a reason she couldn’t quite na.

"When he recovered," the old man said, "he challenged her to a fight as repaynt. Foolish, proud, full of that bird-tribe arrogance. She accepted, of course. They fought. And she won. Hard."

A faint smirk tugged at Kaya’s mouth. "Good."

"The sky beastman fell in love right there," the old man continued. "Hopelessly. He chased her. Pestered her. Insisted the gods had tied them together. In the end, under pressure from politics, prophecies, and his own annoying persistence, she married him too. She used to complain he was irritating." He eyed Kaya. "I believe her. I know the type."

Kaya raised her hand. "How do you know he was irritating?"

"Sa way I know ’you’ are irritating," he replied instantly. "So personalities, you can sll from one sentence."

She huffed but let it go.

"So she had two mates," the old man summarized. "One from the ground, one from the sky. Different tribes. Different tempers. Both deeply, stupidly in love with the sa troubleso human girl who carried half a god."

He let the image hang there: one woman, two powerful beastn orbiting her like stubborn moons.

"And after that?" Kaya pressed. "People say more—snake tribe, others—"

"I told you," he cut in, "I’m telling you the short version. What matters isn’t counting how many n called her ’wife.’ What matters is what that did to the world."

Kaya fell silent.

"The disciples grew restless," he said quietly. "Jealous. Afraid. Imagine it: a ’human’, raised from nothing, holding half the beast god’s power, married into different tribes. Ground. Sky. Others, depending on who you ask. She had influence she didn’t even want. And everyone else could feel it."

His voice deepened.

"So called her a blessing. A bridge between clans. A sign that the beast world would enter a new age. Others called her a curse. A crack in the balance. A weakness in the beast god’s armor. Those were the ones who survived long enough to tell their side of the story."

Kaya swallowed. "And the beast god?"

"He hesitated," the old man said. "Too long. That’s the one thing every version agrees on. He couldn’t bring himself to kill her, not completely. But he couldn’t let her keep growing either. The more she lived, the more that fragnt beca sothing he could never reclaim."

"So what did he do?" Her voice ca out quieter than she intended.

"He chose the path of a coward wrapped in righteousness." The old man’s tone was flat. "He sealed her. Locked away her mories, her cultivation, her power—everything that made her dangerous. Then he cast her out. Back into the mortal cycle. Let everyone think she died. Let the disciples write their own little versions: she was lustful, she was weak, she betrayed them, she died a hero, she died a villain. All noise."

He looked at Kaya, gaze heavy.

"The truth," he said, "is simple. She didn’t die. She was reborn. Again and again. Different bodies. Different eras. Different worlds. Sotis she never awakened. Sotis she ca back here and stirred the sa hornet’s nest all over again. Each ti, people like you ca looking for the story."

The candle hissed softly as the wick burned lower.

Kaya’s throat felt dry. "And you think I’m... one of those rebirths."

He gave a slow, humorless smile. "You ca from another world. You carry strange power. You collect beastn like bad habits. You sll like trouble. What do ’you’ think?"

She looked away, jaw tight. Images flashed in her mind—Rudy’s fangs snapping, the sparrow’s offended chirps, Cutie’s trembling hands, Veer’s cold eyes tracking her every move.

The old man watched her wrestle with it, then finally unfolded his arms.

"That’s the story," he said. "Short enough for you?"

Kaya’s voice was quiet, but steady. "No."

He arched a brow. "No?"

"I asked for the full story," she said. "You gave the bones." She t his gaze again, her own eyes hard. "But I’ll take it from here. If the rest is repeating itself... I’d rather see it with my own eyes than listen to a ghost of it."

For a long mont, he simply studied her.

Then, to her surprise, the old man chuckled—soft, tired, but real.

"Troubleso child," he said. "Just like her."

This ti, Kaya didn’t argue.

The candle had burned low, a thin thread of smoke curling lazily from the blackened wick. Shadows stretched long across the stone floor, swallowing the corners of the room.

Kaya still hadn’t moved from her seat.

"So that’s it?" she asked quietly. "That’s the story?"

Her voice sounded calm, but the questions underneath it pressed like a blade against skin.

The old man rolled his shoulders, as if the weight of his own words had settled there. "That’s all *I* know," he said. "The rest is guesswork and people’s need to make themselves important."

Kaya stared at the table for a heartbeat, then lifted her eyes to him. "Then I’ll ask properly," she said. "Since you told to ask questions."

He clicked his tongue. "I said ask the right questions. Not *many* questions."

"I’ll decide which are right." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "First: did any of you ever see her? The original woman. Not the legends, not the drawings. Anyone alive when she was here?"

He didn’t even have to think about it. "No."

"No one?"

"Our tribe is old," he said. "Not *that* old. The records of her ti are from so far back even the stones barely rember. What we have are fragnts—spears, beads, broken tablets. Not faces." He shrugged. "By the ti my grandfather’s grandfather was born, she was already a story."

"So you’ve never actually *seen* her," Kaya summarized. "You just know the pattern she leaves behind."

"That’s enough." His gaze sharpened. "Fire cos and goes. You don’t need to see the first spark to recognize the ashes."

Kaya chewed on that in silence.

"Fine. Then... do you know what happens to her *after* she’s sealed and sent back? Any concrete record of one full life? One na, one village, one... anything?"

He shook his head slowly. "Once she leaves this world, she stops belonging to our records. At most, we know: a stranger appears, power grows, gods get nervous, sothing explodes, and the world resets a little." He looked at her. "We only see her when she walks here. The rest is smoke in soone else’s sky."

Kaya’s fingers drumd once against her knee. "So you don’t know how many tis she’s been reborn."

"Enough that my ancestors stopped trying to count," he said dryly. "You keep a tally of storms at first. After a few hundred years, you just say, ’The rain ca again.’"

Kaya snorted softly at that, then fell quiet.

"Next question," she said. "Do you know who she is now?"

The old man didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked... tired. "Everyone always cos to that," he muttered. "Who is she now? Is it ? Is it him? Is it the woman next door?" He t Kaya’s gaze. "No. I don’t know."

"You figured out I’m not from this world the mont I entered your tribe," Kaya pointed out. "You can sll a lie from ten steps away. You’ve t others from places like mine. And you still don’t know?"