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Chapter 74
Wishid spoke firmly and then approached the corpse of the monster.
It would take Gruel at least thirty minutes to wash up anyway.
“Luna. Keeping your eyes shut will be better for your peace of mind.”
Even from afar, just listening to Wishid was a thousand times better.
I quickly squeezed my eyes shut, buried my nose into Wishid’s shirt, and curled up my body.
All I could hope for was that the faint scent of Wishid’s pheromones would overpower the stench of blood.
“The shape is a little unusual, isn’t it, Lord Wishid?”
Having finished treating Miguel, Caiman approached.
“The very fact that it went berserk right after appearing, as though the carriage was its only target, is strange.”
Ah, so that’s why the carriage was wrecked.
Even a sturdily built carriage couldn’t withstand the rampage of a monster more than two meters tall.
“I’ve never seen anything shaped like this before…”
There was the sound of rummaging.
“Is it because this is a holy site?”
Wishid muttered briefly but then suddenly froze.
“…Caiman.”
“Yes, Lord Wishid.”
“Set up a camp immediately. And make sure no one comes within a hundred meters of it.”
Caiman quickly went to the Second Prince to request that today’s schedule be ended, then set up a camp deep within the forest where few people’s eyes could reach.
The moment he entered the tent, Wishid staggered.
He tried to steady himself against the table but soon collapsed. Fortunately, Caiman had laid down a carpet beforehand, so there was little noise.
His vision spun as if someone were shaking his head violently.
Only one thought came to him:
‘Ah, thank goodness I sent Luna away.’
The first time Luna saw Wishid in his fever, it had already been near the end.
‘It’s lucky the fever didn’t strike near the holy stone.’
Wishid let out a bitter laugh.
The fever always began with a surge of heat—as if the body would explode—and then plummeted into a bone-freezing cold.
But the true problem was the killing intent. His instincts screamed to kill whatever entered his sight, to drink blood, to lose reason.
For a young beastman whose strength wasn’t fully developed, the fever passed without major incident. But Wishid was already an adult.
If he were to rampage, there were very few who could stop him. Knowing this, Wishid curled up on the bed and clawed at the back of his hand with his nails.
The scent of his own blood was the only thing that soothed his murderous urges. Because of his quick healing, the wounds never properly closed during his fever.
The habit left faint scars across the backs of his hands.
Perhaps because he was experiencing it in an unfamiliar place, the fever was worse this time. Holding on to his reason was far harder than usual.
Suddenly, he wanted to see Luna—the one person who could ease this agony.
But Wishid would rather bite off his tongue than go to her.
Even if Luna tried to ease his pain with a hug, he would be unable to stop himself from devouring her in one gulp.
His organs twisted, his skin burned and warped—it was all too vivid.
Gasping, Wishid tried to expel the blazing heat from his body.
His shirt was already half torn, shredded from how tightly he had gripped it to endure the pain.
Though his skin was exposed to the cool night air, no relief came. On the contrary, he shivered.
He knew that piling on more blankets wouldn’t chase away this chill. So he just panted raggedly through his tattered clothes.
The fever’s peak lasted at least two days, sometimes up to a week.
During that time, Caiman would somehow have to stall.
But stalling without Wishid was impossible. Caiman would have no choice but to explain Wishid’s condition, exposing his weakness to the world.
A hollow laugh slipped from Wishid’s lips.
A half-blood duke, struck with fever every month. Truly a fitting combination.
To distract himself from the pain, Wishid recalled memories—always of Luna.
He hadn’t slept properly in days.
Ever since that night two days ago, he couldn’t relax, worried Luna might suddenly transform into human form again.
Thinking of Luna eased the pain a little—or so it seemed. Even if it was only an illusion, he welcomed it.
This was a torment one could never grow accustomed to.
“Haa…”
His breath came out hot, carrying the fever with it.
He wanted to hear the little squeaky noises she made at his side.
“Chii…”
It sounded so real.
“Chii.”
Wishid marveled—was his imagination really this vivid? It felt just like Luna’s real cries.
“Chii!”
At the same moment something wriggled into his arms, Wishid’s tightly shut eyes flew open.
“…Luna?”
Looking up at him from within his arms was indeed Luna.
She whined and climbed up his body.
She’d called to him, but when he hadn’t answered, she’d come herself. She asked if he was really okay, complained that he hadn’t responded—she kept chattering, but none of her words registered in Wishid’s mind.
‘No.’
His hands twitched, aching to seize her. Veins bulged as he clenched his fists, ignoring the pain bursting under his skin.
“Stop…”
He wanted to tell her to go back.
But even moving his lips felt dangerous. He might swallow her whole.
Oblivious, Luna kept chattering and climbing.
“Chii…!”
She reached his face but slipped.
Her soft fur brushed against his lips.
Their eyes met in midair—hers wide with surprise, his just as shocked.
“Huh…?”
And then, without a sound, where Luna had been, a girl appeared. She blinked blankly, touched her face, and then her expression bloomed into a radiant smile.
“Wishid, I finally transformed into a huma—!”
Before she could finish, the strength wrapping her waist yanked her back down into his arms.
Wishid twisted, pressing Luna against his collarbone, coiling his body around her.
Like a serpent constricting prey, Luna couldn’t move at all.
“Uh, are you just… trying to sleep? Is it really that bad?”
Her hand brushed over his hip, trying to soothe him through touch—but ended up grazing somewhere else instead.
Wishid clenched his jaw and muttered,
“Yeah. Just… please, sleep.”
“Oh? O-okay…”
Luna’s small reply was followed soon by soft snores.
Wishid, too, calmed—after silently counting 3,456 of his scales in his mind.
Pulling his hand from the back of her head, he leaned back. Her face was deep in slumber.
Fixing his gaze on her, he reached for the blanket shoved into the corner of the bed and covered them both.
“Phew…”
At last, he could breathe properly.
His hand drifted to her nape, covering it with his palm, his thumb stroking her soft cheek.
Slowly, that thumb moved closer to her lips. Yet it never touched—hovering just nearby.
A kiss brought about her transformation.
It seemed that failed beastman Luna had gained his blood, and with it the ability to take human form. Meaning—without Wishid’s kiss, she could never transform again.
“…What now.”
Wishid couldn’t stop a quiet laugh.
“You’re completely in my grasp.”
