Chapter-8.

Hissss...

(Now you're done for.)

The snake coiled back, ready to pounce on the helpless, upside-down sparrow.

"Chrippp...!"

The sparrow squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the worst—but nothing came. No sharp bite, no pain.

Slowly, he peeked open one eye—and froze.

Standing in front of him was Kaya, one hand wrapped tightly around the snake's jaws, holding them shut like a clamp. Her expression? Ice cold.

"How dare you..." she said, voice low and deadly, her eyes narrowing at the writhing serpent in her grip.

"C-Chrippp!"

(Wahhh! Where have you been?!)

The sparrow's red eyes sparkled with relief. For the first time in his entire existence, he genuinely wanted to hug a this bitc... ahem mean .. Her.

This terrifying, unpredictable female.

Kaya shot him a glance—flat and unimpressed.

"Shut up."

And just like that, the sparrow froze mid-flap. It was like someone had hit his mute button. He hung there, silent, blinking rapidly with his beak tightly shut.

No further questions.

Kaya looked down at the snake with ice in her eyes, her voice calm but cutting.

"Who said you had the right to touch my food, huh?"

Just moments earlier, she'd been fuming—irritated by the sparrow's endless chirping. But the second she bent down and caught that familiar hiss, her body reacted before her mind did.

She didn't need to look twice.

Snake.

Trouble.

Her hostage.

No second chances.

Without hesitation, she had lunged forward and caught the snake mid-strike—her grip locking around its jaws like a vice.

Hissssss—

(Let me go, female!)

Even with his mouth clamped shut, the snake squirmed and hissed in defiance. Kaya didn't flinch. Her grip stayed firm, her expression as unimpressed as ever.

She stared him down with a look that said, 'Really? Try it'.

She wasn't some clueless wanderer. Thanks to her military training, she'd been tossed into enough survival situations to know exactly how to handle venomous creatures. Snakes, spiders, even worse things—she'd faced them all. She knew where to grab, how to move, and most importantly, how not to die.

Her eyes narrowed as the snake continued to thrash.

His body twisted wildly in her grasp. For something not that large, the snake was surprisingly powerful—its muscles coiling like taut cords around her wrists. Kaya's brows furrowed slightly. Even she had to admit, if not for years of rigorous training and a body strengthened through blood, sweat, and brutal field drills, her arms might've already shown a small crack or two.

But she held on, unwavering.

With a quick motion, Kaya pulled a small knife from her pocket. The blade wasn't longer than a child's paintbrush, but it gleamed with a clean, menacing edge—sharp enough to slice through thick hide with a whisper.

Her hand moved on instinct, the blade rising, aimed straight for the center of the snake's narrow head—until she stopped.

Froze.

Her eyes locked onto its own.

Those eyes weren't normal. There was something… strange. Not just animal instinct or fear. There was a flicker of emotion, of realization. Almost human.

And in that instant, the snake froze too.

(What the hell…?)

His mind was spinning. His name was Rudy, the unlucky 18th son of a chaotic snake den. Out of dozens of siblings, only a few had made it past infancy. His parents had never once looked at him with pride. He was the runt—the weak one. The one that should've died early but clung on out of sheer stubbornness.

Just yesterday, he'd fought over prey with his brothers. A dirty, venom-laced ambush left him weakened. His body began shrinking under the stress, morphing into this humiliating smaller form. All he'd wanted was food—something, anything to survive.

Then he'd seen that annoying sparrow tied up like a snack on a stick.

It was fate, he thought.

It was karma, he now realized.

Because the moment he tried to pounce, he found himself manhandled like a misbehaving garden hose by this terrifying human female.

'What the hell is her hand made of?' he panicked, squirming harder. 'Rocks? Iron? Freaking mountains?'

Her grip wasn't just strong—it was crushing.

Unmoving.

Oppressive.

And now this blade. This cursed, gleaming weapon of doom.

(I'm just hungry! Not a criminal! Is this how I go out—crushed, insulted, and stabbed?!)

Even though he'd never seen a weapon like that before, the gleam on its edge told him one thing—it would hurt. Bad.

.

.

.

That fleeting spark of sympathy? Yeah, it fizzled out faster than a raindrop on hot metal.

The poor snake didn't even get the same courtesy as the sparrow, who was gently tied by the legs and dangled like a feathered windchime. No, this guy got the deluxe treatment. Coiled, knotted, and cinched like an overpacked camping rope. Mouth sealed, tail immobilized. Zero dignity. He looked like he'd been prepped for shipping.

Even Kaya blinked at her work, arms crossed and chin tilted as she admired the snake burrito hanging upside down.

Impressive.

Too impressive.

She squinted. When did she become this good at tying things up? A little too neat. A little too… suspicious.

A memory tried to surface—something involving dim lights, silk ties, and that one drawer in her old bedroom—but she swatted the thought away with military-grade denial. No, no. She's a soldier. It's training. All totally aboveboard.

Though… her own smile looked like it didn't quite believe her either.

Still, no time for a moral identity crisis. There was food to evaluate.

Her eyes dropped to the snake—plump, shiny, and very black. Suspiciously black. Like, villain-in-a-Disney-movie black. And Kaya, while not a gourmet, knew enough to pause. If this thing was poisonous, she wasn't about to be its tragic final act.

Then her gaze slid over to her other appetizer.