“Eek… eek?”
He’d been flailing for a good while when another pair of hands appeared out of nowhere, wrapped around his body, and set him gently on the ground. He turned around in confusion — and found Rutilian.
“Go tear down that house.”
Rutilian had just said something the otter’s late mother used to say often. But the difference between Rutilian and his mother was crystal clear. The meaning was entirely different. What Rutilian was telling him was to demolish his one and only home. And he wasn’t even going to let him into the room as compensation.
He was gearing up to seethe about it, a low growl rumbling in his throat — when suddenly the otter’s black-bead eyes went wide. What he saw reflected in them was Rutilian, wearing the faintest smile.
It had only been a moment, but he’d definitely seen it. He had definitely been smiling. The moment their eyes met, Rutilian’s expression went straight back to neutral, as if it had never happened — but the otter’s eyesight was just as sharp as any Therianthrope’s.
“Squeak?”
What was that smile about?
“What are you mumbling about?”
The otter let out a sharp stream of squeaks at the scolding tone. He was aware of Pumice and the other Knights watching with interest, but their attention was beside the point. Still — he’d seen Rutilian smile today. He’d managed to close the distance at least a little.
“Squeak!”
The otter bounded off toward the barracks with a light step. To get closer to Rutilian, I need to actually listen to him for now. As much as it stung, he figured he’d start by tearing the house down.
Rutilian watched the otter’s retreating figure the whole way as it scurried across the training ground on all fours, then shook his head slowly. It had been throwing a fit just moments ago, and now it looked perfectly cheerful. The creature was strange enough that if its eyes had been red he might have mistaken it for a monster.
“Squeak?”
You’re back?
He’d been skeptical when he saw that the unauthorized dwelling blocking the barracks entrance since morning was gone — but the moment he opened the door, the sight of that dark grey ball of fur sent a wave of irritation crashing over him.
Sprawled flat on its back right in the middle of the room as if it were the most natural thing in the world, greeting its room’s actual owner without a shred of shame. His head throbbed. When Rutilian sent yet another irritated glare the otter’s way, the otter slowly got up and approached.
“Squeak? Squeeeak!”
Did you eat dinner? I did!
The otter had gone to the kitchen on his own and sorted out his own dinner, and now tapped his belly with one paw and let out a satisfied little cry.
“Stay quiet. You’re noisy.”
“Squeeeak?”
Does that mean I can stay? Has he given up? Either way, he was glad things had worked out so that he could stay close to Rutilian without too much fuss. The otter settled himself in the middle of the floor and lay down, watching Rutilian prepare to get into bed. Their eyes happened to meet. The otter held his gaze, bright and unblinking — and Rutilian, rather than looking away, held it back.
“The reason I’m leaving you alone is partly because it’s too much trouble to deal with you. But also because you don’t look like any kind of threat.”
“Squeeeak…?”
So in other words… he sees me as something like a background extra, and that’s why he’s leaving me alone… is that it?
“I’ll let you sleep here tonight. But tomorrow, go back to wherever you came from.”
“Squeeeak…! Squeak!”
I can’t do that…! Absolutely not!
You might see me as some background extra, but that’s not what I am. For me to play a role that actually matters — that’s the only way I survive, you survive, and everyone else does too.
The otter jumped to his feet and went over to the bed where Rutilian was lying, hopping up and down beside it. He pushed off his hind legs again and again trying to get up onto the bed — but the frame was hopelessly, endlessly high for a creature as small as he was.
Even as a human I was on the short side, and now I’ve gone and transmigrated into a tiny otter — that’s just depressing. In a world where Therianthropes coexist, couldn’t he have landed in the body of something a little more impressive? Was an otter that nobody even recognized really the best he could get…? This had to be some god’s idea of a joke.
“Squeeeak!”
Someone help me up!
Rutilian had been watching the otter struggle with a pitying look. He propped himself halfway up, brow creasing, and spoke.
“If you don’t want to get thrown out, stay on the floor and keep quiet.”
“Squeak?”
“A suppression unit is heading out tomorrow morning. They’ll pass through the village where I found you, so I’ll tell them to drop you off there on the way.”
“Eek… squeak?”
That was like a bolt from the blue. He was so caught off guard he’d been mid-seethe and froze solid, like a statue.
Monster suppression was something the Therianthrope Knight Order did routinely — nothing surprising there. But the unwanted return-trip service, and more than anything, the clear implication that Rutilian himself wasn’t going — that caught him completely off guard. He could grudgingly accept being sent back, maybe. But you’re not even going yourself?
“Squeeeak!”
That’s too much!
Rutilian looked down at the otter expressing its distress with its entire body, then turned his back on it without a word.
“Squeak….”
He’d expected not to be welcomed. But getting kicked out in just one day — he hadn’t been prepared for that. He no longer had any idea what to do. At least being glared at and suspected was something. The way Rutilian had flatly told him to leave tomorrow and then turned his back, as if it were nothing — it was infuriating.
“Squeeeak…!”
He never thought he’d miss being dismissed and turned away after just one day. The otter stared at Rutilian’s broad back for a long moment, then flopped back down on the floor and curled into a ball.
He’d been deluding himself.
He’d been deluding himself into thinking he was some remarkable figure, like the protagonists of other web novels. He’d been so caught up in the novelty of being inside a web novel, so convinced there had to be a reason for his transmigration. But now he wasn’t sure anymore.
Then again, why would someone like me have an important mission. If he were the kind of existence capable of changing the ending, he wouldn’t have transmigrated into a mere otter. At the very least, he should have been a tiger Therianthrope.
Maybe it was just a god taking pity on someone who died young — handing out a web novel transmigration experience like loose change. Or maybe he was dreaming all of this in a coma.
He had come all the way to Senritia brimming with bold ambition to find Rutilian — and now all that drive and confidence was washing away like sand in a wave.
“…Squeak.”
He turned his head slightly, let his gaze rest for a moment on that broad back, then turned away again, limp and defeated.
“So you’re leaving today? That’s a shame. I still haven’t figured out what kind of animal you are.”
The otter opened his eyes to brilliant sunlight and stared blankly at Pumice in front of him.
“Squeak….”
“You seem really down. There’s still some time before everyone has to gather. Go enjoy one last meal before you leave.”
“Squeak….”
He murmured a listless reply and flopped back down flat on the floor. It was good meeting you too. You were kind of annoying, but I got to see you in person, so that’s enough. Pumice looked down at the otter lying there, little ears drooping, letting out a faint, miserable squeak — and huffed a quiet laugh, then sat down by the otter’s head.
“You’d probably be better off back where you came from, anyway. This isn’t really a place for a small animal like you.”
“Squeak….”
“Besides, the Rutilian you’re so crazy about is leaving soon too. What’s the point of staying here then?”
“Eek — eeek?!”
Rutilian is leaving? Where?
Surely not….
“Squeak…. Squeak….”
This is bad…. But why already….
Is his journey to find his identity starting already? If it was already in motion, then he didn’t have much time left — not even to enjoy his life as an otter.
“Does it bother you that much — Rutilian leaving?”
Pumice watched the otter spinning anxiously in circles with a concerned look. Lost in turmoil, the otter startled as the door suddenly flew open.
“Come here.”
Rutilian stood in the doorway with a long cord in one hand, speaking to the otter.
Is he planning to tie me up with that cord? This isn’t a slaughterhouse!
“Squeak, squeak!”
The otter panicked and shot under the bed. Rutilian sighed deeply at the sight, then approached the bed. Last night it was desperate to stay glued to my side, and now it’s running away — he found that rather funny.
“Come out. We’ll be late.”
“Squeak! Squeeeak!”
If I’m going, I’m going on my own feet! I’m not being dragged anywhere!
He may have become a four-legged animal, but that didn’t mean he’d completely abandoned the nature of the human he used to be. With all his memories still intact, being tied up and led somewhere felt genuinely awful.
He could hear Rutilian’s low sigh from outside the bed, but he held firm and retreated even deeper. They were going back and forth by voice alone for a while — and then he spotted one of Rutilian’s knees. Then Rutilian lowered himself down, pressing one hand to the floor, and ducked to look under the bed. Their eyes met.
“Come out. Before I drag you out.”
“Squeak….”
The threat was sharp — but the otter’s eyes had already fixed on something else entirely: Rutilian’s wrist. The one pressing against the floor. One end of the cord he’d brought was tied around it.
He wasn’t planning to tie me up after all? Curiosity pulling him forward, the otter slowly crawled out from under the bed and stood on his hind legs in front of Rutilian.
