“Squeak!”
I want in!
He looked up at Pumice with the most pitiful eyes he could manage, poking right at his sense of compassion. Pumice was still grinning from ear to ear, of course. People who smile a lot are usually kind-hearted. Right…?
“Come in.”
“Squeak!”
Called it!
The otter flashed Pumice a grateful look as he threw the door wide open, then hopped inside. The room was fairly spacious — two beds set apart from each other, with a large window between them. And that was about it. There was something in the corner that was presumably a wardrobe, but the emptiness and bare conditions were honestly a little shocking.
Is this really it. He looked around suspiciously for another door, half-convinced there had to be more to the room — but of course there wasn’t. Only Rutilian, sitting on one of the beds, fixing him with a sharp glare.
“Pumice.”
“Right, then. I’ll be showing myself out.”
Pumice swiftly ducked out of the room to avoid Rutilian’s lethal stare. The door shut with a heavy thud — and after that, not even a breath of sound stirred in the room. Rutilian watched the otter standing on his hind legs near the door, clearly trying to read the room, then let out a deep sigh and dropped flat onto the bed.
“Squeak….”
He was lying face-up so his expression wasn’t easy to see, but Rutilian was almost certainly frowning. In the novel too, Rutilian had little interest in others — his life’s purpose was finding answers to the mystery of his own identity.
That was only natural. Rutilian had grown up in a small shrine in a village far from the capital. A young Rutilian had desperately wanted to know who his real parents were, and why they had abandoned him. Having been raised among nothing but humans in that shrine, he had grown up believing he was one.
Above all, Rutilian lacked something every Therianthrope possessed. He had no presence — no aura that other Therianthropes could sense. Yet as he grew older, a strength emerged in him that no ordinary human could have, and he came to realize he possessed senses that surpassed even those of Therianthropes. And most tellingly of all — unlike every Therianthrope without exception — he could not shift into animal form.
“Hey.”
“Squeak….”
Rutilian sat up abruptly from the bed and looked at the otter, who was still hovering near the corner, reading the room. Startled by the sudden call, the otter hesitated, then cautiously approached.
“I don’t know what scheme brought you all the way from that village to here. But go back. Now.”
“Squeak…!”
I do have a scheme, yes, but it’s not just about saving my own skin. Feeling a little wronged, the otter squeaked insistently, mounting his defense.
“Judging by your fully shifted form, you’d have to be an adult. So why can’t I sense any presence from you?”
“Squeak, squeak.”
I don’t know either.
It was the first time since waking up as an otter that he’d felt this suffocated. Unable to explain a single thing, limited to only the most basic expressions — it was maddening.
All Therianthropes have a presence.
Therianthropes could sense each other’s presence regardless of species. In this world, Therianthropes could take three forms: partial shift — just ears, a tail, or some other animal feature — full shift, where the entire body transforms into an animal, and human form.
But maintaining a full animal form was only possible for Therianthropes who had reached adulthood. Even young Therianthropes might have a faint presence, but it was impossible for them to register as having no presence at all.
So it was hardly strange that Rutilian was suspicious of him. He could perfectly understand how baffling it must look — a creature with no presence whatsoever who clearly understood every word spoken to it.
That said, there was nothing he could say to explain himself to Rutilian, no matter how persistently he asked. All that came out was squeak, squeak. And more than that — at least a suspicious stare was better than this. Rutilian was now glaring at him so coldly that even squeaking felt impossible.
“You understand everything I’m saying, and yet you’re just a wild animal?”
“Squeak…?”
That could be the case, couldn’t it…?
The otter gave a vague nod and shifted his gaze to Rutilian’s sword propped in the corner. He swallowed hard and steadied himself on his hind legs.
This isn’t going to work. At this point, I might as well just come out with everything.
“Squeak, squeak squeak.”
I was a pretty successful businessperson in my old life. But then….
At first, Rutilian watched with focused attention as the otter began gesturing wildly — waving his paws, flailing his limbs — clearly trying to explain something. But by the time the otter had flopped flat on his back on the floor, gotten back up, and started pointing at himself with one paw, Rutilian’s head dropped toward the floor.
“Squeeeak! Squeak!”
You’re the one who saved me…! From the monster!
“Hey.”
“Squeak, squeak!”
But your face looked familiar. Especially your eyes!
“Haah….”
“Squeak! Squeeeak!”
The otter pressed on regardless of Rutilian’s cold voice, pouring everything he had into explaining his situation.
“Eek — eek—!”
Right up until he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and thrown out the door.
Splash—
“Squeak!”
Heartless jerk.
Tossed out by Rutilian, the otter stormed out of the building and hurled himself into the fountain, slapping the water surface over and over with his tiny paws in pure, seething fury.
“Haha, you lasted longer than I expected. I thought you’d get kicked out right away.”
“…Squeak.”
Pumice appeared out of nowhere and spoke to the otter in a teasing, light-hearted voice.
“Something fun finally happened after a long time. I’m glad you’re here. Doesn’t matter to me if you’re a Therianthrope or not. You’re just really entertaining.”
“…Squeak.”
…I can tell.
Pumice watched the otter splashing listlessly in the water for a moment, then glanced around.
“Hey, beaver. I’ll give you a gift. Cheer up.”
“…Squeak?”
“If you’re Rutilian’s friend, you’re practically my friend too.”
“Squeak…!”
A wave of genuine emotion hit him at Pumice’s words. A person who’s willing to be friends with a grouch like Rutilian really is something else. The otter climbed out of the fountain and looked back and forth between Pumice’s two hands.
“Squeak?”
Where’s the gift?
“Over there. There’s a ton of it.”
The otter turned his head in the direction Pumice was pointing. Piled up beneath a dense cluster of trees was a heap of branches.
“They said they were doing some pruning this morning — looks like they finished.”
“…Squeak?”
…So?
“Build yourself a house with those. Should be enough for about two. Maybe even an annex.”
“…….”
It was so absurd he couldn’t even be annoyed. His nerves were already frayed — there was only so much teasing a creature could take.
“Get started before it gets dark. I’ll come visit tomorrow.”
Pumice gave a satisfied smile, looked down at the otter staring off into space, left his parting words of encouragement, and disappeared back into the barracks.
“Squeak… squeak….”
Does he genuinely think I’m a beaver? Still, he was trying to look out for me in his own way, so I should be grateful, I guess….
The otter blinked up at the sky as the first colors of sunset began to bleed across it.
“Squeak….”
This is so miserable….
The faint little cry was a far cry from the torrent of colorful curses filling his head. He knew the goal he’d set for himself wasn’t going to be easy. But getting close to Rutilian was going to be even more treacherous than he’d imagined. The sighs just kept coming, one after another.
Shoulders sagging, he turned listlessly toward Pumice’s gift. Dragging his still-damp body over to the pile of branches, he poked at them with one paw.
“Squeak…?”
Should I actually build it?
The weather was warm enough that curling up in the grass and sleeping like he had back in the forest would’ve been fine — but something in him refused to back down. The otter picked out one long branch, gripped it with both paws, and began dragging it toward the barracks.
Rutilian could not close his mouth.
Rising before dawn and being the first Knight to head to the training ground — that had been his routine for years. Today was no different. Right up until the moment he saw the unauthorized structure at the barracks entrance.
“Haah….”
Squarely blocking the barracks entrance was an unauthorized dwelling, and sprawled inside it was a creature with dark ash-grey fur. It even had something resembling a roof and what could generously be called an entrance.
“Get up. You’re not going to tear this down right now?”
