Thoughtfully, she looked around her new ho. The ground beneath her feet felt... thin. As if she were slowly losing control.
She could not allow that.
Determined, she sat down at the beautifully crafted desk and pulled open random drawers until she found what she was looking for an unused notebook and... ink and quills.
’Alright, this can’t be that hard.’
Spoiler: it was.
Within minutes, her fingers were stained blue, and the paper held not only her shaky handwriting, but also ink blots in various sizes.
The beastfolk had their own script, which she knew and could read thanks to her mories.
But she chose to use the one she had learned in school twenty-four years ago.
That way, no one would understand what she wrote — and no one would ask uncomfortable questions.
’Okay, first things first — what do I actually know?’
Mirabelle started listing everything she knew about books where soone transmigrated into another world.
’Don’t they usually get sothing like a cheat system or a superpower?’ she wondered.
Out of habit, she chewed on the end of her pen — except this ti, there was no pen, and the feather tickled in her mouth.
"Ugh."
’Why don’t I have a system? Or do I...?’
"Status window!" Her voice sounded slightly lost in the large room.
And then...
...nothing happened.
Embarrassed, she looked around.
Apparently, this isn’t that kind of story.
’Okay... maybe it’s just a different trigger word?’
Mirabelle tried all sorts of variations, but no blue translucent screen appeared.
’I’m making a complete fool of myself... alright, fine. No system. Then maybe a superpower? Or a direct connection to the beast god?’
Or rather, goddess — as she had learned from the mories.
Eagerly, she closed her eyes, folded her hands, and prayed:
’Please, dear beast goddess, if you can hear this, answer . I don’t know why I’m here. Why am I here? And what am I supposed to do?’
She opened one eye — but nothing happened. No golden light, no divine presence, nothing...
She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.
’If answering is too much, a sign would be enough. Just send sothing obvious so I know you’re there.’
Now all she could do was wait.
Though sohow, she wasn’t too hopeful.
Still, she waited a mont longer, listening into the silence.
Then — suddenly — a loud crash outside the window.
A man’s voice echoed through the courtyard:
"Damn, the clumsy kitchen boy spilled the stew again!"
Mirabelle blinked.
"...seriously? That’s my sign?
Great. No system, no goddess, no instructions. Love that for ."
But she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
There was still the possibility of a superpower. But how was she supposed to figure out what it was?
’I should probably start by learning more about the abilities of beastn.’
The forr Mirabelle hadn’t had any herself. And she had always treated the abilities of the n as sothing... given.
’Alright.’
Now that the lynx female knew her next step, she pushed herself up from the desk and walked toward the door.
She pulled it open —
—and Owen stood right in front of it.
Startled, she jumped back.
Had he been standing there the whole ti?
That was... creepy? Uncomfortable? Not exactly good for his old bones?
"Owen, what are you doing here?"
He looked at her, slightly confused.
"Waiting in case you need anything, Lady Mirabelle."
He really had been standing there.
Had the forr Mirabelle never questioned that?
"How are you?" she asked, her voice softer now.
"Well, thank you, Lady Mirabelle. Is there sothing I can do for you?"
That reminded her of her task.
"Yes. I’d like books about the abilities of beastn."
"Of course."
The old wolf was about to turn away when she rembered sothing else.
"Ah — and please send soone responsible for the air chanisms at the windows."
Owen nodded again.
"Anything else?"
"You know what? Yes."
She pointed toward a niche across from her door, set into a small bay overlooking the courtyard.
"I’d like a bench placed there. In the future, you’ll wait there."
"But Lady Mirabelle, I—"
She finished his sentence for him.
"You will, of course, follow your Lady’s orders. Won’t you?"
He bowed again, resigned.
"Of course. Thank you."
With that, she finally allowed the old man to go about his work.
It didn’t take long before there was another knock.
The oldest beastman she had seen so far entered the room. Behind him followed an eager boy, maybe around fourteen, carrying a stack of books in his arms.
They were piled so high he could barely see where he was stepping, wobbling slightly as he walked.
’That must be the librarian.’
He was a snake beast, though not much of it showed in his humanoid form.
Only his slit pupils and the forked tongue that occasionally flicked from his mouth gave it away.
’What was his na again?’
"Gilbert! It’s good to see you. You didn’t have to co yourself."
The older beastman, clearly pleased that she rembered his na, blushed faintly and tried to hide it. He fussed with his purple robe, which made him look a bit like a mage.
Then he snapped at the boy:
"Don’t just stand there. Put the books on the desk. And hey — be careful! Those are ancient. Each one is worth more than your clumsy butt."
Awkwardly, the boy placed the books on the desk. One slipped and fell to the floor, but he quickly picked it up and brushed it off, embarrassed.
He was a rabbit beast.
’Not a great combination. Rabbits and snakes don’t exactly get along... no wonder he’s so jumpy.’
"Go on. Get back to dusting the shelves."
Relieved, the rabbit boy bowed and disappeared faster than Mirabelle could blink.
The librarian watched him go with a frown before turning back to Mirabelle.
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