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Chapter 2
“Pera, are you sure we didn’t make a mistake bringing these two here?”
At Pera’s request, Harun was wiping the man’s body clean of dust and blood. He clicked his tongue in frustration.
Pera couldn’t deny she shared his unease. After checking the child’s clothing and possessions, her suspicions only grew stronger.
“Harun, look at this. Isn’t this a royal crest…?”
“What…?!”
Harun, who had been standing by the clinic door, rushed over. Pera pointed to the boy’s neck with a distressed look.
There, dangling against the pale, delicate throat, was a pendant adorned with a golden jewel—the unmistakable insignia of the imperial family.
“That’s… what the royal crest looks like?”
Having lived all his life in a village without even a single noble, Harun had no way of knowing such things. He tilted his head, looking to Pera for answers.
“The school I attended was under the royal foundation… I saw this for five years straight. There’s no mistaking it.”
Pera groaned miserably, and Harun did the same.
The child had hair of honey-blond silk, a pair of round beast ears nestled within, and cheeks plump and rosy with youth. He was breathtakingly adorable.
But the long, spotted tail attached at his back made it clear this was no ordinary beast-child.
“Then… this child, no, this young lord, could he be the prince they say was born a few years ago—Prince Theo?”
“Yes… I think so! Oh, heavens, what should I do? Can I even lay my hands on His Highness? What if I make things worse? What if our whole village is punished for this…?”
Pera’s face had gone pale as she stammered through every dreadful possibility. Harun grasped her shoulders firmly, his voice heavy with calm conviction.
“Pera. Breathe. You can’t just leave His Highness wounded like this. That would be the greater crime. What you must do is simple—treat him with everything you’ve got.”
“…Harun, I’m scared.”
“To tell you the truth… so am I.”
For two people who had only ever known peace in their small village, this was the greatest trial of their lives.
Trembling, they exchanged helpless looks before resigning themselves. As Harun said, there was no choice but to give Prince Theo the best care possible.
Pera and Harun worked in silence. The boy—Prince Theo, youngest of the Amur imperial line, and a tiger beastkin—had only suffered superficial cuts and scratches from the carriage wreckage.
The true concern lay with the man who had shielded him.
His injuries were grave: a long gash running from shoulder to elbow, and a swollen bruise blooming across his ribs. Judging from the discoloration, some ribs might be broken.
The man’s muscles were carved and honed to a perfection that made Pera momentarily admire him in awe—before quickly shaking her head. This was no time to get distracted by anatomy.
His breathing was steady, at least. The lung hadn’t been pierced.
“Now… I need to stitch this wound.”
Muttering to herself, Pera fetched a medical text from her shelves, flipping through it anxiously.
Just as with beastfolk, beastkin had their own peculiarities. Rabbit beastkin struggled with protein and sweets, feline beastkin with hot food… treatment and medicine had to be adjusted for each race.
The problem was, she couldn’t place this man’s race at all.
He had near-white silver hair, a pair of rounded white ears, and a snowy tail dotted with black. In some ways, he resembled Prince Theo—but unlike the golden hues of tiger beastkin, his coloring was starkly pale.
“Most likely… this one.”
Pera stopped at a page describing snow leopards.
“Pera, what about him? Could he be another prince?”
“Hm? No, I don’t think so. He doesn’t have any royal possessions. More likely… he’s a knight assigned to protect His Highness.”
“Ah… that makes sense.”
Harun’s gaze drifted to the sword laid neatly by the man’s side. Even at a glance, it was a fine blade, clearly well-used and well-cared for. His heart thrilled at the sight of such a weapon—something far removed from the farm tools that had shaped his own muscles.
“We should treat the worst wound first. He won’t wake up from the pain, right? If he does, I’ll scream.”
“Pera, you really have been spoiled, living as the village vet.”
His dry remark made her shoulders shrink. Sometimes, Harun felt less like a childhood friend and more like a father.
Pera pouted but began preparing her tools. Stitching wounds wasn’t entirely new—plenty of rambunctious children had forced her to practice. But never a wound this deep.
She disinfected once more with alcohol, then raised the needle. Please don’t wake up in the middle and start thrashing.
“Ugh…”
Unable to watch, Harun shuddered and fled to the living room. The sight of a needle piercing flesh made his skin crawl.
But for all her whining, once Pera began, her stitches were steady and sure. She worked with care, keeping them tight enough to withstand any movement.
She wrapped the shoulder with layers of bandages and leaned back with a triumphant sigh.
“Look at that! Perfect. I really did a good job, didn’t I?”
Her patient had made not a single sound throughout the ordeal. Perhaps because he was unconscious—but still, Pera was pleased.
Humming softly, she tidied her tools, so absorbed in her own relief that she failed to notice when the man’s eyes snapped open.
Cold, piercing blue eyes locked on her back.
Only when she closed the drawer did she hear it:
“Who are you?”
The voice was like ice being ground underfoot—low, frigid, dangerous.
What?! He was unconscious just now—when did he wake up?!
Pera whipped around in shock—only to freeze as a blade pressed cool and sharp against her throat.
“W-wait! That’s a real sword, isn’t it?!”
“Answer my question first.”
The steel shifted, pressing harder. Terror rooted her to the spot.
If I’d known he’d repay me like this, I wouldn’t have stitched him so neatly!
“P-Pera Kitten! I’m a veterinarian! That’s all! You and His Highness were injured, so I treated you, that’s it!”
“…His Highness?”
“Yes! Over there—your prince! Instead of threatening a harmless vet, shouldn’t you be worrying about him?!”
Pera snapped at him despite her fear, pointing out his skewed priorities. She even tried to defend her own work.
“Look at your shoulder! See how neatly I stitched it? I did it with so much care—there’s no way it’ll burst—”
“Silence. Where is His Highness?”
His words cut her off like a blade through carrots. Finally, he asked after the prince.
Hands trembling, Pera pointed toward the living room.
The man clicked his tongue at her wordless gesture but finally withdrew his sword.
Pera let out a desperate breath, gulping air into her lungs.
Meanwhile, the man strode into the next room, his long legs carrying him in swift, heavy steps—toward Prince Theo.
