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Chapter 5
‘What’s going on? Where… am I going?’
Her body refused to move according to her will.
As if pulled by some invisible force, her legs kept moving forward, ignoring her stumbling feet.
Eventually, she arrived in front of a shabby attic room. Compared to the grandeur of the mansion’s interior, this door looked like it had been plucked from an entirely different place.
She squeezed through the slightly ajar door and leapt up onto a small bed.
‘…Blond?’
Through her blurry vision, she saw the back of someone’s head covered in a rare, ominous shade of blonde.
But before she could even question it, she lost consciousness.
Wishid’s first encounter with the previous Duke of Erquille—his father—was of the man drunk in broad daylight, crying out for his deceased lover.
[“Sierra. Where the hell did you go, Sierra!”]
Wishid once had illusions about his father.
A man born of “pure” and “perfect” blood, the only one between a set of twins. A great and noble Black Mamba, someone who could never be subdued.
But the man he met with such anticipation was a disgrace. So painfully human.
That day, Wishid felt something solid within him shatter.
From then on, he began to loathe the part of himself that carried weak human blood.
Even though he was born with the perfection many could only wish for, unlike his ruined father, Wishid resolved to reclaim that perfection on his own.
It’s been ten years since he killed his father and became the Duke of Erquille.
Every year around this time, Wishid suffered from a fever.
In Suin (Beastmen), when they transition from animal to human form, they experience a high fever. Normally, it happens only once—around the age of five.
But due to the mixture of noble and lowly blood, Wishid had suffered from these irregular fevers since the age of five.
Sometimes weekly, sometimes monthly, sometimes he went months without one.
This time, it struck again in just a few days.
‘Cold…’
Wishid curled up tightly on the small attic bed.
The frail bed barely supported his large frame, creaking under the pressure.
It was the same bed from his childhood—small, worn, and unsurprisingly inadequate.
Like all snakes, Black Mambas have cold bodies.
So, no matter how much he curled up trying to preserve heat, the cold just kept draining what little warmth he had left.
Wishid hated the cold.
That was the hardest part of enduring the fever. Pain he could tolerate. But when the chill seeped into his very bones…
‘Huh?’
Something strange happened.
Something small and warm burrowed into his arms.
It wasn’t cold.
It was like a tiny sun. That warm.
Wishid opened his eyes.
His vision was hazy, as though covered in dust. He waved his hand to clear it, but the blurriness remained.
When he opened his mouth to speak, something slipped inside.
It tickled.
“Chee… chee…”
He heard ragged breathing and the occasional sleep-mumble.
“A mouse?”
A mouse.
The same one that had entered his room days ago. The only one that had survived Trial Drug No. 1.
Wishid grabbed the fluffy white tail he’d mistaken for dust.
“Chii…!”
It grimaced, clearly uncomfortable.
But the moment he touched the mouse’s tail, that same sensation returned—the one he’d felt days ago.
Back then, just before his fever started, he’d been unsure due to his deteriorating state. But now, it was clear.
The headaches and madness that had plagued him constantly—followed him like a curse—were easing.
It was faint, barely the size of a dust speck, but it was unmistakable.
Wishid realized the truth.
‘This is it.’
The one and only existence that could make him fully Black Mamba.
His pupils slit long and narrow as he stared at the thing he’d searched ten years for.
As his pheromones leaked out, the mouse trembled and opened its eyes.
I woke up shivering, not from cold, but from danger.
“…”
Right in front of me was Wishid’s gorgeous face. I was so startled, I couldn’t even scream—just clutched my pounding heart.
Words failed me. I stammered in shock, eyes trembling.
It was inevitable. I had run away from Wishid, only to wake up and find him right in front of me.
“It’s been a while,” Wishid broke the silence.
Clutching my tail tightly, I cautiously watched him.
His brow rose with clear amusement.
“No response? You can talk now.”
“…Chii.”
‘…Yes.’
As soon as I answered, a wave of anxiety washed over me.
Since becoming a mouse, my senses had sharpened—and my bad feelings were always spot on.
Especially when it came to danger.
“And…” Wishid narrowed his eyes at me.
“What are you doing here?”
…Good question.
“Just one question.”
Wishid sat back in a chair in what appeared to be his office, resting his chin on his hand.
“This mouse. Who let it out?”
He asked plainly.
“Hm. No answer?”
Of course there wasn’t.
I couldn’t speak with his pheromones practically choking me.
‘You psycho! You lunatic! Freaking nutcase!’
I stood rigid on his desk, trembling and clutching my fluffy tail.
Ever since Wishid had asked why I was there, I knew.
If I mentioned the lab director, I’d lose my only ally.
So I made something up on the spot.
[“I got lost exploring the mansion while the maids were cleaning? Hm. I see.”]
He had responded so indifferently, I thought he’d just asked out of casual curiosity.
Until he dragged me into his office by the scruff of my neck, summoned two familiar maids—and suddenly flooded the room with his pheromones.
I had thought the maids would confess or explain.
I’d even started feeling guilty, thinking they were suffering because of me.
Then—thud.
One maid crumpled to the floor. The other followed shortly after.
Crushed by Wishid’s overwhelming pheromones, they gasped in pain, gritting their teeth to suppress screams.
“Khack!”
They soon coughed up blood.
I saw more blood than I expected—and fainted on the spot.
“Ah, you’re awake?”
Unfortunately, I only passed out for a few minutes.
“Hey, Squeaky. They won’t answer. What do we do?”
…Squeaky?
What kind of ominous name was that?
“Your name. Squeaky,” Wishid said, tilting his head.
“Why?”
His crimson eyes locked onto mine, gleaming.
I couldn’t stop staring at his white fangs, which looked like they might start dripping venom at any second.
“You don’t like it?”
“Chii! Chiik!”
‘What do you mean I don’t like it?! Of course I do, Your Grace! A naming genius, that’s what you are!’
I shouted from the bottom of my heart.
Squeaky.
Now that I thought about it, it was a perfectly adorable, no, dreadful name. A flawless fit for me.
“Knew you’d love it.”
Wishid seemed pleased with his naming skills.
Then he turned his head and looked ahead.
“You can answer now, right?”
Wow, seriously. He’s crazy.
Still expecting answers from maids who just coughed up blood?
“Yes, sir.”
A small but clear voice replied.
Startled, I turned around to find the maids standing upright.
Aside from slight staggering and pale faces, they looked normal.
‘Ah, they’re lizard-type Suin.’
Even with Suins’ generally fast healing, only lizard-types could recover that quickly.
It was a relief they were okay—but a bigger problem loomed.
‘They’re going to find out.’
