🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 13
The reason the four ducal houses were chosen as the representatives of beastmen was because they were chosen.
The founding dukes were each granted a divine beast by the god.
That’s why, if you look at the portraits of the founding dukes, the divine beasts are always with them. The beasts brought prosperity and peace, elevating the prestige of the families.
But at some point, the divine beasts stopped leaving offspring. Though they were genderless and reproduced without mating, their line suddenly began to die out.
Some families were fortunate enough that no trace of their beast remained. The Erquille family’s beast laid a single golden egg before vanishing.
And now, thirty years had passed since that egg appeared in the world.
No matter what method was used, it showed no signs of hatching. Eventually, the egg was enshrined in a temple in the Erquille estate’s sacred garden.
Wishid, however, scoffed at the idea of divine beasts and left the egg alone. Since becoming duke, this was the first time he had gone to the shrine.
Even if it’s still an egg, it’s a divine beast. Anyone not of direct Erquille blood would be struck by an invisible poison if they got too close.
Despite the fact that everyone coveted the last divine beast egg in the world, no one dared touch it for this very reason.
Cayman had left the office to clean up the soon-to-be mountain of dead eagles.
Meanwhile, Wishid followed the scent of eagle beastmen.
The closer he got to the shrine, the more his brows furrowed.
As soon as he reached the shrine, Wishid lightly twisted his body.
The sharp talons of an eagle flying silently toward him slashed through the space where he had just been standing.
Without even needing to transform, Wishid easily caught the incoming eagle and tore it apart.
Even as its life faded, the eagle tried to raise its talons—Wishid stared straight into its eyes.
The other eagles, circling above, faltered at the sight.
“Not coming?”
Wishid carelessly tossed aside the dead eagle and asked, sounding disinterested.
One eagle dove quickly toward him. Wishid looked directly at it and waited.
And just as it was about to strike—
“Screeech…!”
Wishid suddenly remembered why he came here.
Right. The rat.
He casually flung the eagle aside and turned toward the sound.
And when he realized it was coming from the shrine, he froze.
Thump, thump.
His heart began to beat erratically.
His breath grew rough. A tremor that started in his fingertips shot up his spine with a jolt.
Pull it together.
That person is gone now.
As he pictured a body torn limb from limb, he quickly regained his composure.
Just then, he barely dodged another eagle that lunged at him.
“Maybe if we just reach out, we can grab it?”
“Let’s just go in. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Even that rat’s unharmed—what could happen to us?”
Following the voices, Wishid spotted two eagle beastmen loitering at the shrine’s entrance.
He approached silently, then suddenly reached out and grabbed one by the neck.
Crack. With a sickening sound, the life ended without even a scream.
“Huh? When—?! Damn it!”
The second beastman tried to flee but was bitten on the neck by Wishid.
The venom that entered through his fangs paralyzed the body almost instantly.
The beastman foamed at the mouth and collapsed.
Kicking the corpses aside, Wishid entered the shrine.
Crackle.
Sensing its master’s blood, the divine beast’s egg welcomed Wishid’s presence.
Atop the altar sat the rat, trembling violently, clutching the egg tightly.
Wishid’s pupils contracted as he looked over the rat.
It was unharmed.
The scent of blood came from an old wound that had reopened.
Wishid reached out his hand.
“Come here, little rat.”
The trembling rat looked up but didn’t climb into his hand. It blinked with frightened eyes.
Wishid realized his hand was covered in blood.
The rat, small and timid, was easily frightened. It hated the smell of blood too.
He was about to pull his hand back, but the rat placed its tiny, shaking paw on his finger first.
Then it let out a quiet sigh.
Unaware that the person in front of it was the most dangerous of all, the rat relaxed.
Wishid’s lips curved slightly before he realized it.
The rat then climbed fully into his hand.
Their eyes met—small, round, beady eyes.
The rat suddenly plopped down as if its tension had drained. Warmth and soft fur filled his palm.
The cold, sticky sensation of blood on his hand had long since faded.
A strange emotion stirred in a corner of his heart.
Is it because I haven’t used my venom in so long?
Just then, Cayman appeared.
“Are you finished, sir?”
“Ah, yeah.”
Cayman stepped around the bodies and approached.
“I’ve taken care of the others.”
It ended sooner than expected.
Cayman finally noticed the rat sitting in Wishid’s palm.
“Lord Squeak is here?”
“Yeah.”
Hmm?
Cayman blinked, confused.
While he stood frozen, Wishid turned to him.
“Clean it up.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Cayman bowed after a brief pause, then turned his head.
There stood Wishid, smiling down at the rat in his hand.
Several days passed before I learned that the strange beastmen had been eagle beastmen sent by the Persian duchy.
I had been so focused on survival that I’d almost completely forgotten the original plot. Only after overhearing Dana and Nana’s conversation did I remember that detail.
In any case, things around me changed significantly after that incident.
My daily routine stayed the same.
Sleep, eat, run in the wheel, and lie down.
But one thing did change—and that was…
“Squeaky.”
…I now do all that in front of Wishid. On his desk. In his office!
The desk was huge, so it wasn’t uncomfortable. But the man himself? Very uncomfortable.
Every chance he got, he’d call my name for no reason, or stare at me like he wanted to skin me alive.
“Want some?”
Wishid pulled a few raisins from his pocket.
Drip. My mouth watered.
Drawn in by the tangy scent, I sniffed rapidly and trotted over.
“Paw.”
Plop.
“Both paws.”
Plop.
“Both feet.”
…Are you kidding me?
I had obediently given my paws, but paused at the last command.
I looked up at him. His face was expressionless.
“Well?”
…He’s serious.
After a moment of deep consideration, I twitched my foot.
Wishid gently wiggled the raisin in front of me.
He threw the bait—and I took it.
Screw it!
What’s the harm in giving him my feet just once?
I sat down and placed my feet on his hand.
But the problem was… my chubby belly folded over, and I flipped backward.
“……”
“……”
“Pfft.”
The laugh came from Cayman.
“Squeeeak!”
What the heck! When did you get here?!
My face flushed with heat as I jumped up.
“Ahem. Ahem.”
Cayman, who had already laughed, cleared his throat like nothing happened.
Meanwhile, I snatched the raisin from Wishid’s hand and scampered over to the cushion to nibble on it.
“A message from the Persian duchy has arrived.”
“What does it say?”
“The usual provocation. They’re asking if we liked their gift.”
I peeked at the message from the Duke of Persia and frowned.
Besides what Cayman mentioned, there were other veiled remarks—essentially curses predicting Wishid’s downfall.
What kind of grudge makes someone write something that malicious?
“How annoying.”
“Well, who told you to set the guy’s hair on fire for not being bald enough to match his name?”
