I slowly looked up at him, food still in my mouth, my mind scrambling. How exactly did he plan to do that? I didn’t even know how beastn here learned speech in the first place. Was there so sort of specialized training? A device? Or—
Soren reached out and patted on the head, his touch firm but gentle. "Don’t worry. We’ll solve the problem of your na first."
Ah.
Right.
Up until now, everyone had been calling "little leopard," "little beast," or so variation of that. Convenient, yes—but also incredibly lazy.
Before I could overthink it, Soren tapped his smartwatch. A soft chi sounded, and a holographic interface blood into the air between us.
Rows upon rows of three-dinsional dictionaries appeared, layered and rotating slowly. Characters, symbols, phonetic guides, beastman linguistic structures—everything floated in neat, organized columns.
"...This," Soren said calmly, "is the standard imperial phonetic and semantic system. We’ll start simple. You’ll learn to recognize, then pronounce."
The characters floated before my eyes, unfamiliar yet strangely familiar. Their strokes curved and connected in ways I had never seen before, yet the aning settled into my mind the mont I looked at them, as if they had always been there.
So this is how it works.
It must be thanks to the housekeeper—the stiff man who had taken care of back then. Even when I couldn’t speak, he had talked to endlessly, reading docunts aloud, explaining things to as if I were already a beastwoman. I hadn’t understood at the ti, but it seed those mories had quietly taken root sowhere deep inside .
I lifted my claw and hesitated for a brief mont before writing on the holographic panel. The surface rippled faintly under the pressure of my claw, light gathering where I traced each stroke.
B
l
a
n
c
a
The letters glowed softly before stabilizing.
"Blanca," Soren repeated. He looked at the na for a second longer, as if weighing it. "That’s your na?"
I nodded, lifting my chin a little.
Since no one in this world had given a na, then I would give myself one.
Not because anyone asked to.
Not because anyone permitted to.
But because I decided that I was still .
Soren didn’t comnt further. Instead, his lips curved slightly. "Alright. Since we’re done eating, let’s start class, Blanca."
Before I could react, he reached down and picked up with ease, tucking against his chest as if this were the most natural thing in the world. I instinctively wrapped my tail around his arm to steady myself. At this point, being carried around by him had practically beco routine.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
When we stepped outside the room, the door slid open with a soft hiss.
Spade was just about to knock when he froze upon seeing us. His posture straightened instantly.
"Sir!" Spade saluted sharply.
Soren glanced at him. "What is it? Is there sothing wrong?"
Spade nodded—but stopped there. He didn’t speak. His eyes flicked toward , just briefly. Whether it was intentional or unconscious, I couldn’t tell, but the aning was obvious.
Ah.
I understood instantly.
’Confidential.’
Considering I was just a little beast their commander had picked up sowhere, it made sense. Military matters, sensitive information, things I wasn’t supposed to hear.
Fair enough.
Before Soren could say anything else, I wriggled free from his arms and jumped down. My paws landed silently on the floor. I turned, pointed a claw toward his study room, then gestured toward myself.
’I’ll go there.’
Then, without waiting for a response, I padded away, tail swaying lightly behind .
Soren watched my retreating figure for a brief second, then looked back at Spade. "Speak."
I didn’t hear the rest.
The study room door slid shut behind , sealing off the outside world. The room was quiet, bathed in soft ambient light. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, data crystals, and neatly organized files. A large desk sat in the center, waiting to be used.
Good.
If he was busy with confidential matters, then this was the perfect ti for to get busy too.
I hopped up onto the desk, my claws clicking faintly against the smooth surface. With a small flick of my paw, I activated the holographic dictionary again. Rows of words, phonetics, and symbols unfolded before .
’Alright, Blanca,’ I told myself. ’Ti to study.’
If I was going to survive in this world—no, if I was going to thrive—I couldn’t rely on Soren forever. I needed to understand the language, the systems, the rules. Especially if I was really going to attend the Imperial Artificers Academy.
My eyes narrowed with focus as I began tracing characters one by one, committing them to mory.
Classes or not...
I had always been a fast learner.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Soren and Spade went back into the lounge. The automatic door slid shut behind them, sealing off the outside noise. The room was quiet—too quiet.
Soren took his seat, one arm resting on the armrest, posture relaxed yet carrying an invisible pressure that filled the space.
The mont he settled down, Spade spoke, his voice low and steady, clearly having rehearsed the report many tis in his head.
"Sir, we screened the genes of all registered beastn in the empire using the fur of the little leopard you provided," Spade said. "A genetic match has been found."
He paused, took a asured breath, then continued carefully, "Sir... it is highly possible that the little leopard is the biological daughter of Duke Lyndon Tajiri."
The temperature in the room seed to drop.
Soren’s fingers curled slowly, his fist tightening against the armrest until the reinforced alloy beneath gave a faint, strained creak. His expression did not change much, but Spade could clearly feel the oppressive pressure radiating from him.
Duke Lyndon Tajiri.
Soren knew the man far too well.
Lyndon had always been ticulous—calculating to the point of cruelty. And more importantly, he had only ever publicly acknowledged one child. A daughter whose age... matched almost perfectly with the little leopard now sitting alone in his study.
Spade continued, his voice lower. "Duke Lyndon erased all traces of this child’s existence. Official records show only one daughter. dical records, household registries, even genetic backups in the imperial archive—everything has been erased. As far as the empire is concerned, that child never existed."
Soren’s gaze darkened, golden pupils flickering faintly.
"At present, we have not uncovered further public information," Spade said. "However, there is a correlation we believe is important."
Soren finally looked up at him.
Spade t his eyes and continued without hesitation. "The attack on Duke Lyndon’s mansion in the imperial capital was not random. According to the Investigation Bureau, it was carried out by a male housekeeper who disappeared many years ago. He was captured, sentenced to death... and then escaped."
Soren’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"The official report claims he acted alone," Spade added calmly. "But our findings differ."
He tapped his quantum terminal and projected a thin stream of encrypted data into the air. "Our intelligence suggests that the housekeeper acted under a secret command. A private order issued through an untraceable channel."
Spade finished and transferred the order he had acquired from his computer to Soren.
Soren’s gaze swept over the projected order.
Objective: Kill the useless one. No traces. No witnesses.
The mont he read its contents, sothing shifted in his eyes. The faint golden glow in his pupils flared—cold, sharp, and utterly rciless—before disappearing just as quickly.
For a long mont, the room was silent.
Then Soren spoke, his voice low and even. "Bring that housekeeper."
Spade’s shoulders stiffened. He lowered his head slightly. "Sir... he escaped."
Soren raised an eyebrow.
Twice.
Escaping once from an imperial death sentence was already extraordinary. Escaping again—from a second capture attempt—was sothing else entirely.
"So," Soren said calmly, "how remarkable is this housekeeper?"
Spade imdiately straightened and explained, "Sir, our team almost secured him. However, during the pursuit, we discovered that he possesses the combat skills and tactical awareness of a seasoned rcenary, possibly higher. He wasn’t an ordinary housekeeper. He deliberately hid his abilities. His movents, counterasures, and escape routes were professionally executed."
Soren leaned back slightly, fingers tapping once against the armrest. His expression remained composed, but his thoughts were already moving rapidly.
’This was interesting,’ Soren’s lips slightly curved.
A housekeeper—once loyal to Duke Lyndon Tajiri—had attacked the very household he served, and the secret command he received prior to the incident was sohow connected to the little leopard now under Soren’s protection. What made the situation even more peculiar was that the housekeeper had not carried out the command as intended. Instead of obeying, he turned his blade toward his master.
Soren’s gaze drifted briefly toward the direction of his study.
"If Duke Lyndon truly abandoned his own blood," Soren said at last, his voice dangerously calm, "then he will eventually co looking for what he threw away."
Spade lowered his head. "Yes, Sir."
Soren’s fingers stilled.
"Find the housekeeper," he ordered. "Alive. No matter the cost."
"Sir," Spade said after a brief pause, carefully gauging Soren’s expression, "if the situation truly connects back to her, do you want to temporarily stop the little leopard from entering the academy?"
Soren blinked once, slowly, as if weighing countless possibilities in that brief mont. The Imperial Artificers Academy was not rely a place of learning—it was a political arena, a nest of nobles, guild heirs, and watchful eyes. Sending her there would expose her to scrutiny, but keeping her hidden would also draw attention sooner or later.
"The plan stays the sa," Soren said evenly.
Spade nodded but did not relax. "Then... shall I send soone to protect her?"
Soren fell silent again. Too much protection would cage her. Too little would endanger her.
"Let Aquila et us first in the capital," Soren said at last.
"Yes, Sir," Spade said.
With that, the matter was settled—for now. Spade exited quietly, leaving Soren alone with his thoughts. After a brief mont, Soren rose from his seat and headed toward the study.
He paused at the doorway.
As the door slid open, the sight before him was unexpected.
The little leopard was perched atop his desk, her small body surrounded by scattered holographic panels. Translucent pages floated in the air, rotating slowly as she swiped at them with her paw. Several books—projected and physical—were spread ssily across the table, so open, others stacked haphazardly. Her tail flicked back and forth in concentration, ears twitching every ti a new symbol appeared.
Soren paused at the doorway, montarily taken aback.
She looked utterly absorbed.
He stepped closer, his footsteps light. "What are you reading at?" he asked.
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