Chapter Two: The Butterfly, Beastmen, and Trust

Herscherik made his way to the red-light district. Behind him walked the owner of the fruit shop, along with the red-haired woman and the blue-haired man. The man seemed to be wary of something, as he would occasionally glance behind him or from side to side. Seeing this, Herscherik surmised that this man might be some kind of warrior, instead of an ordinary traveler.

The man’s wariness turned out to be unwarranted, as they arrived safely in the red-light district—a place usually full of life at night, but almost deserted now in broad daylight. Even so, it wasn’t the kind of place that Herscherik—a child not yet school age—should be in the first place.

After a bit more walking, the party arrived at what was considered the finest brothel in the entire city, where only select customers were permitted entry: the Night Butterfly. An evening at the Night Butterfly cost the equivalent of an average person’s monthly earnings, and even then, they didn’t just let in anyone who could pay. First-time visitors were rejected unless they were introduced by an existing customer. Ill-mannered customers would be banned, regardless of how rich they were, and the person who introduced them would be banned as well. Here, the prostitutes had the power, not their customers.

Of course, the men and women of the brothel were beautiful, sociable, and good at enticing customers. The food and drink was high quality and the furnishings were some of the finest available, making the visit worth the price. As a result, the brothel was fully booked every night, and reservations needed to be made a month in advance at the very least.

Putting aside what went on later at night, Herscherik thought talking to the pretty ladies and gentlemen of the brothel while enjoying good food seemed pretty fun. Incidentally, Herscherik was a sucker for a pretty face, a trait he’d also possessed in his previous life—though back then he had been an otaku spinster only attracted to 2D characters.

Just as Herscherik arrived at the Night Butterfly, an establishment that could put the mansions of many wealthy aristocrats to shame, a man appeared from inside the building.

“Oh, hello!” Herscherik called out to the man, who turned around in response.

Despite his fair, delicate looks, the man was not one of the Night Butterfly’s courtesans, but the brothel’s bouncer. His main job was to throw out any unruly customers, but he also took care of cleaning, shopping, and other miscellaneous tasks. Herscherik would see him on occasion while shopping in the town, and they were close enough for him to say hello and stop to chat.

“Hey there, young man. What brings you here? I see your usual entourage isn’t with you today.”

The man approached Herscherik with one hand raised in greeting, but upon noticing the people behind the boy he furrowed his brow in suspicion. Though he knew the fruit shop owner, the other two were unfamiliar to him.

Herscherik, though, spoke to the man in his usual tone, completely devoid of tension.

“I left them behind today!”

“Now that’s unfortunate. The girls are all begging for a chance to entertain your attendants.”

Herscherik smiled awkwardly at the man’s light teasing, which could very well have been serious. The prostitutes of the Night Butterfly had taken a liking to his men of service after a particular series of events. While Herscherik himself would never get any offers, considering his age, his men would sometimes receive half-joking invitations to spend the night.

“Tell that to them, not me. Sorry for asking so early in the day, but is Helena awake?” Herscherik lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’d like to borrow a room.”

At the sight of Herscherik’s serious gaze, the man straightened his posture.

“The madam is currently getting ready. However, we have been instructed to accommodate you at all times, sir. Please, right this way.”

With both his mannerisms and speech a good few notches politer, the man opened the door and showed Herscherik and his party into the luxurious brothel, with its stone façade and interior of polished marble only surpassed by the royal castle itself. As it was still not yet evening, it was quiet inside. The men and women of the brothel would start to wake up in another hour or so, at which point the cooks and the servers would start preparing to open as well.

Herscherik traversed the marble halls as the delicate-looking man led his party to a room in the back—the finest room that the Night Butterfly had to offer. The carpet felt like walking on clouds; the table, sofa, and other furnishings were very finely made with gilt edges; paintings, likely by famous artists, adorned the walls; and a magnificent fireplace warmed the spacious room. In the back was another door that led to a bedchamber.

Herscherik entered the room as he gave his thanks to the man who stopped outside the room.

“Thank you. Also...”

“You can trust me to keep people away,” the man quickly replied, giving Herscherik a deep bow as he closed the door.

This was the reason Herscherik had chosen this brothel.

Sometime prior to the attempted act of terrorism by the church, Herscherik had ended up helping the people of the Night Butterfly by sheer coincidence. As far as Herscherik was concerned, all he had done was stick his nose in someone else’s business, but everyone at the brothel felt grateful and would try to help him in any way they could. They would offer any information that customers let slip while drunk or during pillow talk, offer locations to hold secret discussions, and so on. Herscherik in turn was careful not to abuse their goodwill, making sure never to leak the source of his information and always gathering additional evidence to support anything they said, further instilling trust in the people of the brothel.

This room at the very back of the brothel had no windows and was soundproof, making it the perfect place to hold conversations that he didn’t want anyone to hear. Whenever he had something confidential to discuss, he would always pick either his own room in the castle or this room—outside of business hours, of course.

“Now, we have a married man with us here, so let’s get this over with quickly before any rumors start to fly,” Herscherik said as he sat down on a sofa that was as comfortable as any found in the castle and crossed his legs. He invited the other three to sit down as well, but they all remained standing, making Herscherik feel a little awkward.

The owner of the fruit shop seemed a bit remorseful for having dragged Herscherik into all this. He hunched his large body down and hesitantly opened his mouth.

“I want you to help these two,” the owner said, looking at the couple.

The man’s expression remained unchanged while the woman continued to smile, quietly observing the events unfolding.

Herscherik gave them a perplexed look. It seemed strange to him that the owner would ask for his help like this while the two who supposedly needed it seemed oddly calm.

First of all, however, Herscherik needed to confirm something.

“Owner, am I right in assuming that this is something only I could help with?”

The owner nodded quietly in response—confirming to Herscherik that this spelled trouble, though he did not let this show on his face.

“I can’t say whether I’ll be able to help or not, but I’d like to at least get the full picture first. Are they friends of yours?” It was plain as day that they weren’t family. Herscherik’s other theory for why the owner would be so desperate to help them also fell flat as the owner shook his head.

“I barely know them. I met them in the town I delivered some fruit to earlier.”

In other words, they were strangers who had only met each other very recently. Then why was he so desperate to help them? And how did Herscherik himself fit into all this? One question after another welled up inside Herscherik’s mind. The next thing the owner said, though, cleared up any doubts Herscherik had.

“They’re... He is a beastman.”

“Huh?” Herscherik uttered, dumbstruck. “Really?”

Herscherik looked back and forth between the owner and the strange man.

“Yes,” the owner replied with a heavy nod.

The man then turned his gaze to the woman standing beside him, and upon seeing her give a quiet nod, he removed the coat he was wearing.

Beneath the coat was a muscular, well-trained physique—as well as a pair of wings, the same color as his hair, growing from his back.

As he stared in surprise, Herscherik’s emerald eyes widened so much it seemed like they might fall right out of their sockets.

Oh... Now this is trouble.

Before him was a person—nay, an entire kind of person—that should not be in this country at all.

There were a great many peoples in this world. One was the race Herscherik himself belonged to—humans. Next were mystics, who possessed more Magic Within than humans. It was said that they had lost a war against the other peoples during the New Dawn Era and fled Grandinal for a new continent. There were also demihumans such as elves and dwarves—those who had intermingled with fairies.

Then there were beastmen. Just as the name implies, they possessed animal-like traits. Some had animal ears and tails, others wings like this man, and others had skin covered with scales. They also possessed abilities beyond those of humans, like heightened agility, immense strength, or even the power of flight.

There were also a handful of other non-human peoples that were much less common, like magical beasts.

Most beastmen, demihumans, and magical beasts lived in the southern Lustian Confederation. Mystics, demihumans, and beastmen also all lived much longer than ordinary humans. Mystics and demihumans in particular could live more than five times as long as humans, and beastmen twice as long. By contrast, they reproduced much more slowly. Additionally, each people had their own inherent strengths and weaknesses when it came to magic.

Herscherik had learned all of this from books after being reincarnated into this world, but this was his first time actually seeing a non-human in person. When he had first learned of their existence, he had been elated at having been reborn in a true fantasy world; however, his joy did not last long, and he soon found himself once again in despair at the current state of Gracis.

This is something only a royal can help with—or rather, this might be a situation where even royalty can’t help.

It was only natural for Herscherik to think this way. Currently, Gracis did not allow any non-humans within their borders. Additionally, trafficking and slavery were also forbidden.

It had all started with the king of two generations ago. At that time, beastmen and demihumans still lived within the borders of Gracis—not as citizens, but as slaves. Beastmen and demihumans were valued for their robust bodies, immense strength, and beautiful looks. After being forced into slavery, they were treated as objects.

But one day, by decree from the king, all slavery was abolished, and at the same time trafficking was made illegal. Every single former slave, including children, was disposed of, and all non-humans were forbidden from entering the country from then on. Those who broke the law would be executed without trial. As a result, there were now no slaves in Gracis, nor were there any peoples other than humans.

Consequently, the fruit shop owner, this mysterious couple—as well as Herscherik himself, who was now involved too—were, as far as the law was concerned, deserving of being executed without trial.

“For starters...can you just tell me how all this came about?” Herscherik asked. In order to decide on a course of action, first he needed to ascertain the truth.

“I met them in the town that received my shipment of fruit,” the usually quiet fruit shop owner explained solemnly.

After receiving payment for his goods, he had noticed a commotion. The town was a relatively large one close to the border between Gracis and Felvolk, about a ten days’ journey by wagon from the capital. Since he’d left his wife and newborn daughter behind in the capital, though, the fruit shop owner had traveled as quickly as he could and ended up arriving two days early. What little sociability he already had went out the window as he rushed to get back to his family, and combined with his fierce appearance, his attitude spooked the merchant he was negotiating with. In a stroke of good fortune, the nervous merchant ended up paying him extra for his labor.

On the way back, he would be able to travel even quicker without the cargo. But just as he was thinking about buying a souvenir for his family with the extra money, he heard the shouting of constables.

Did something happen?

Though hardly the size of the capital, this town still had a sizable population. It must have its share of problems, he reasoned, as he quickly made his way back to his wagon.

Just as he was about to set off, however, he heard a noise from his supposedly empty wagon. He sighed as he looked inside, figuring it was either a stray cat or a mischievous child. Instead he found himself looking at two figures hiding behind the empty crates. One was a woman with crimson-colored hair. Her overcoat was sooty and her expression looked exhausted, but her dark eyes still seemed to brim with an intense light. In front of the woman, as if to protect her, was a blue-haired man with his azure eyes fixed on the fruit shop owner.

The man wore a sooty overcoat just like the woman; what caught the owner’s attention the most was not him, but what was growing on his back.

“A...beastman?”

The man jerked at the words that escaped the taciturn owner’s lips. He held up a small knife. The air was as tense as a thread stretched to the breaking point, neither party daring to move.

Suddenly, a voice broke the tension.

“Is someone there?!”

The voice spurred the owner into action. He instinctively grabbed a blanket he had used when camping outside and threw it over the pair.

“Don’t move,” he told them in a quiet voice.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned his back and looked out from the wagon, blocking the line of sight of two men wearing constable uniforms who were just about to have a look inside. The two constables jumped back at the large man’s sudden appearance but quickly cleared their throats, trying to appear unfazed as they asked the owner if he had seen anyone suspicious.

The couple inside the wagon crossed the owner’s mind, but because he was so unsociable, nothing showed on his face. Instead, he merely shook his head, and the constables quickly left, almost as if they were intimidated by him.

Without saying another word, he set off with the wagon. Once he was well outside the borders of the town, he stopped to ask the pair about their circumstances, but they remained silent, and the inarticulate owner was unable to get any more information out of them. It was easy to conclude, though, that they had crossed the border from Felvolk to arrive here. While there was a chance that they had come from the Lustian Confederation, they would have had to pass through many countries on the way to do so, and based on their outfits they did not seem to have traveled far.

The military nation of Felvolk, located on the east side of the continent, was a country ruled by humans, but beastmen and demihumans also lived there—not as citizens, but as slaves, with few exceptions. Felvolk had a history of exercising its military might to expand its borders by occupying smaller neighboring nations. The people of these occupied countries were given two choices: pay a hefty tax and become citizens of Felvolk, or become slaves. Non-humans in particular were forced to pay outrageous taxes; most were unable to pay them, forcing the beastmen and demihumans of the occupied territories into slavery.

Unable to endure the oppression of Felvolk, many beastmen would flee the country; however, most would flee to Lustia. No one would flee to Gracis, where their very existence was against the law.

No one, except for the man in front of him.

“I couldn’t leave them alone,” the inarticulate owner concluded as Herscherik listened intently.

He couldn’t bring himself to hand them over to the constables, nor abandon them. A few years prior, he might have left them behind for fear of his own safety, but after meeting the young child in front of him, who would always prioritize others over himself, he had absorbed a bit of the prince’s meddlesome nature. The owner was actually embarrassed that he’d prioritized himself over others.

He also had one other reason.

“I also have beastman blood in my veins.”

“What?” Herscherik said with even greater surprise than before.

Herscherik instinctively examined the owner from head to toe, but everything about him seemed human.

“My great-grandfather was a bearman.”

“A...bearman?” Herscherik asked, perplexed. He knew little about other peoples, as there were few available texts about them.

According to the owner, there were many different kinds of beastmen—bearfolk, who had the features and strength of bears, birdfolk like the blue-haired man with wings on their back, and so on.

“Though the probability is low, it’s possible for humans and beastmen to have children together. The child inherits the appearance of his mother’s people, but in rare cases it takes on the abilities and lifespan of the father. My great-grandfather’s physique and strength skipped two generations.” The owner paused for a moment before hesitantly continuing. “But anyone who is obviously a beastman cannot live in this country.”

If what he says is true, there may be more people with beastmen blood than I ever would have thought right here in Gracis, Herscherik thought.

Though their lifespan was different from a human’s, in a world without DNA tests, it would be possible to hide your identity as long as you didn’t reveal it yourself. The owner himself was proof of that, as until he revealed his secret, Herscherik had only thought of him as simply larger and stronger than the average man.

As the couple had attempted to leave, the owner had convinced them to stay, telling them they ought to come with him if they had any gratitude for his help—surprisingly well said for someone as clumsy with words as him. They had then returned to the capital, being careful to avoid attention on the way.

Had they parted ways, the two travelers would without a doubt have been captured by the constables or knights and sentenced to death. The owner thought that Herscherik was his only chance at saving them.

“So I had no choice but to rely on you. I’m sorry,” the owner continued before closing his mouth and hanging his head.

Herscherik barely even needed any time to think before deciding what to say.

“All right, I get the gist. Don’t hang your head like that. You can leave the rest to me,” Herscherik stated confidently to the owner, who had gone back to his usual stoic demeanor.

Herscherik wasn’t worried about whether or not to save them. Abandoning someone was never an option to begin with. He was only worried about how to save them.

While silently pondering what to do now, Herscherik gave the frowning owner a bright smile to reassure him.

“Owner, thank you for trusting me and explaining everything.”

While perhaps it wasn’t something Herscherik should be excited about, the fact that the owner had revealed his secret to him made him happy. If word got out about that he’d not only harbored a beastman but had beastman blood himself, he was sure to be executed. Even so, he had trusted Herscherik enough to tell him the truth.

Now the question was how to repay the owner’s trust in him. As Herscherik racked his brain, he heard a female voice.

“I’m sorry for interrupting the conversation.”

There was only one woman in the room, so Herscherik turned his gaze toward the crimson-haired stranger. She took a step forward as he did, her hair swaying. She maintained her persistent smile, but her watchful dark eyes seemed to pierce right through him.

“How come you’ve decided to help us?” the woman said—a strange objection for someone receiving an offer of assistance.

Herscherik, however, did not criticize her, instead only looking perplexed as he wondered, “Why do you ask?”

“The two of us are clearly suspicious individuals. What’s to say that we aren’t simply pretending to have come here by chance, as part of a plot to get close to you and do you harm? Either way, there’s no benefit to you helping us.”

Herscherik looked slightly troubled upon hearing her sound argument. Had his overprotective butler been here, he would most certainly have agreed with her. In addition to being overprotective and a worrywart, his butler also tended to make a point of considering every pro and con of a given decision. He would likely have stated that it would be foolish to expose yourself to danger to no advantage.

“Yes, you’re right on all counts,” Herscherik agreed. The woman’s smile seemed to stiffen slightly in response.

“Then why?”

Her words and her dark eyes seemed to have a tint of wariness to them. The sight of her eyes made Herscherik understand the reason she acted this way.

She’s level-headed... She has to be in order to survive.

Initially, she had seemed calm, but she was likely trying to assess Herscherik’s character. Even if they did not admit to it, it was clear that they’d come from Felvolk just like the owner had said. Not to mention the man was a beastman. They couldn’t trust just anyone they met in this country. Putting their faith in the wrong person could mean death.

The two of them were very short on options in this country, though, so she showed them a smile to appear confident, while at the same time assessing the character of those around her in order to determine the best chance of survival.

She’s quite the bold one.

Despite only just having met her, Herscherik took a liking to the woman and how she was attempting to find a way out of such a seemingly hopeless situation—and to the man who seemed to trust her with his life.

Before showing his wings, the man had looked toward the woman. That must have been him silently asking if it was all right to let Herscherik see them—to reveal the fact that he was a beastman. In a country where being a beastman was a death sentence, he must have been incredibly wary of doing so. Thus, the fact that he agreed to do so after simply asking the woman with his eyes was proof of just how much he trusted her.

And while it was only his intuition, the two of them didn’t seem like bad people to Herscherik.

Still, I doubt they’ll fully trust me so easily.

Herscherik was not so arrogant as to expect them to have full confidence in his intentions right away. So instead of coming up with a cheap justification, he decided to say what he really thought.

“The owner asked me to help you. What other reason do I need?” Herscherik said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The woman’s smile faded for a moment, but it quickly returned.

“But according to the law of this country...”

“Yes, the law here is very brutal toward beastmen,” Herscherik interrupted her. “But in my opinion, legal isn’t always the same thing as moral.”

Herscherik understood that it was important to uphold the law. However, in the end it was nothing more than a system of rules invented by human beings. The law was always changed and revised in response to all kinds of factors—the era, the society, the people, and so on. No legal system was infallible. He also couldn’t understand why his country was so exclusionary toward other peoples to begin with.

I guess I should look that up too.

Whenever something interested Herscherik, he made a mental note to research it. Such was his nature.

As Herscherik became absorbed in his thoughts, he failed to notice that the woman was observing him.

“Oh, right—I never introduced myself, did I?”

Pulling himself back to reality, Herscherik stood up from the sofa and walked over to the pair.

“My name is Herscherik Gracis. I’m the Seventh Prince of this kingdom.”

Herscherik offered the woman his hand, paying no heed to how her eyes were widened in surprise. The woman instinctively reached out her hand in response, and Herscherik took it as he gave her a broad business-like smile.

He then offered the man his hand, but he did not take it—though it seemed less that the man was refusing him than he simply had no idea what to do. Bewilderment showed on the man’s previously expressionless face.

“So you’re...” the woman said quietly while observing her hand, still warm from Herscherik’s palm.

She had never expected the boy in front of her to be a member of the royal family. The shock had rocked her to the core.

Herscherik’s stretched-out hand hung awkwardly in the air for a few seconds before he retracted it. Then he suddenly realized something important.

“What are your names?” he asked inquisitively.

Upon hearing that, her expression stiffened and fell silent, and she hesitated for a moment before replying.

“I’m afraid...I can’t answer that.”

Her hesitation did not escape Herscherik. Soon after, the woman too realized her mistake—she should have simply given him an alias instead. While the man next to her, who had known her for many years, may have noticed the slight change to her expression, the detail would normally fly right over the head of someone she’d just met.

But Herscherik did, in fact, notice. Realizing this, alarm bells started to sound in her head—but Herscherik did not press the issue further.

“But if you don’t have a name, I won’t know what to call you... Let’s see... Crimson hair and blue hair... Scarlet, Azure, Ruby... Something about those just doesn’t sound right...”

Had any of his men of service been here, they would likely have been dreading what was coming. Herscherik’s choice of names tended to be on the simplistic side—or put another way, he had absolutely zero creativity when it came to names. Right now, though, no one was around to stop him.

Suddenly Herscherik clapped his hands together with a satisfied smile on his face.

“In that case, I’ll call you Kurenai and Ao!” Herscherik said, once again electing to simply describe their hair color in the language he’d spoken in his previous life. “And it looks like it’s just about time,” Herscherik added at the sound of footsteps, turning his gaze toward the door. A knocking sound echoed through the room.

Once Herscherik told the person knocking to come in, the door opened slowly and a number of figures entered the room. First was the delicate-looking man who had shown them to the room. Next to him was a bewitchingly beautiful woman—the Night Butterfly’s madam, Helena.

“I am delighted to see you, Young Master,” Helena said in an alluring voice that felt like a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. She gave Herscherik a deep bow. Her long hair, lightly curled and pale purple in color, cascaded down from her shoulders. As she glanced, Herscherik could see her violet eyes looking at him.

She must have come to speak to him in the middle of her preparations for the night. She wore only light makeup, a long dress that accentuated her curves, and a thin robe over top. Even so, she looked seductive enough to make any man stare.

Herscherik, however, was still young, and had in his previous life been a woman—one with no serious interest in romance at that—and was not enticed by her overwhelming allure.

“Helena, I am very grateful that you lent us this room. It was of tremendous help.”

“Oh, there is no need to be so formal around me, Young Master,” Helena replied with a flirtatious smile, laying her hand on her cheek. The beauty mark by her mouth only added to her seductiveness. “I will endeavor to do anything in my power to help you, Young Master. The people of the Night Butterfly will stop at nothing to ensure that you leave satisfied.”

Herscherik gave a slightly apologetic smile in response to the madam’s bewitching smile and cultured way of speaking.

“I appreciate you saying that when I’m taking advantage of your kindness. I’ll be sure to thank you properly later.”

“I assure you, Young Master, that shan’t be necessary. Of course, if you insist...” Helena spoke with a smile that somehow reminded Herscherik of a carnivore sizing up its prey. “My dear girls are all terribly eager for the chance to attend those fine men of yours. If you could convince them to pay us a visit, I would be ever so happy.”

“Haha... Well...that would be up to them, I suppose...” Herscherik replied evasively as he shot a glance at someone standing behind the madam. “Well, you heard her, Oran. What do you say?”

“Hersch, I’m here to pick you up,” the figure replied after a moment’s pause.

The person who had just ignored Herscherik’s question and instead simply stated his business with an awkward look on his face was a man with messy orange hair streaked with gold. His blue eyes were slightly downturned, giving him a gentle impression. His name was Octavian Aldis, the third son of the prestigious Aldis house of knights and Herscherik’s knight of service. Having received the nickname Oránge from Herscherik as proof of his trust, he had only recently displayed his tremendous skill with the sword during a battle with the imperial forces. As a result he was now famous both within and outside the kingdom of Gracis. The color of his hair and the way he snuffed the light out of his enemies’ eyes like the sun sinking below the horizon had earned him the name of “Twilight Knight.”

“How about you, Shiro? Want some tea before you leave?” Herscherik asked the beautiful woman next to Oran.

In response, the woman with braided white hair and amber eyes frowned even more deeply. Though possessing beauty that outclassed even the ladies of the Night Butterfly, this person was actually very much a man.

His name was Weiss, and he served as Herscherik’s Spellcaster of service. His surname was unknown, as a lingering consequence of the brainwashing and memory-altering magic that had once been used on him. The name Weiss was one Herscherik thought up, though Herscherik would usually call him Shiro.

He was a magical expert of unparalleled skill. As a result of a former plot by his adoptive father, Shiro now did not age, and he had vastly more Magic Within than other people. He also possessed the unique ability to absorb Floating Magic and make it his own. When it came to magic there were few in this country—or even the entire continent—who could put up a good fight against him.

Whenever he used magic, his hair would shine the colors of the rainbow in accordance with the element of the spell. The sight of this earned him the nickname of the “Haloed Spellcaster,” as well as envy from anyone who saw, though he himself thought nothing of it.

As a result of his upbringing, he tended to be distrustful of others, so Herscherik had gotten the idea to let him drink tea with the pretty ladies at the brothel in an attempt to rehabilitate him—but his plan seemed to have failed.

“If we don’t get back soon, the black dog’s gonna start barking.”

“Kuro was that angry, huh...?”

Seeing Oran nod in response, Herscherik started to imagine how long of a lecture he was in for. Though he was only reaping what he’d sowed—having not only snuck out in secret but also left behind extra work for his butler to prevent him from following—he could not help but hang his head.

I’d better just resign myself to my fate... Herscherik steeled his nerves like a samurai preparing to disembowel himself.

“Well, in either case, thanks for coming to get me—Oran, Shiro,” Herscherik said before giving his supposedly recluse of a Spellcaster an inquisitive look. “Oh, and Shiro, well done coming all this way.”

Ever since Shiro found himself mobbed by not only women but men as well every time he visited the castle town, the resulting trauma had seemingly given him a light case of social anxiety. As a result, he’d taken to cooping up inside the castle—not that there was any lack of people who were after his fair looks there either.

“He dragged me out here,” Shiro said as he gave the knight standing next to him a menacing glare. Oran shrugged in response.

Herscherik guessed that Oran, worried about Shiro’s recent habit of locking himself up indoors, had taken him out for a change of pace on his way to fetch their master. Oran was very caring by nature.

“So more trouble, then.” Shiro said as he turned his glance from Oran to the pair of strangers in the room.

Herscherik bringing home trouble was an everyday occurrence by now. Since the prince refused to listen to anyone once he’d made up his mind, his men of service had all but given up. Even so, his worried butler would continue to complain like an anxious mother—but in the end they all shared the common trait of being soft on Herscherik.

“No, we’re helping people!” Herscherik corrected Shiro before turning to the pair—newly christened Ao and Kurenai. “Ao, Kurenai. If you stay with the owner, I won’t be able to help in case something happens, and it’ll be difficult for him and his wife. I’m sure you have your apprehensions, but would you mind coming with me instead? I’ll ensure your safety.”

Herscherik turned to face the others in the room.

“All right, let’s get going then. Helena, thank you so much again. I hate to ask you for another favor, but would you mind keeping the fact that we were here a secret?”

“Of course. No one was here—neither you or your friends,” Helena responded with her usual alluring smile. The wings growing from the man’s back briefly caught her attention, but her expression remained unchanged.

The delicate-looking man behind her gave a perfect bow, as though to affirm what the madam had said. Herscherik once again thanked the two and started walking toward the door, when he suddenly stopped and turned around.

“Oh, before we leave...”

Herscherik gleefully walked up to Ao.

“Um... Well...”

In an unusual display of hesitation from Herscherik, he started to fidget with his hands behind his back, his eyes wandering around the room. After a significant pause, he finally steeled himself and looked up at Ao.

“Would you mind if I touched your wings?”

He blushed slightly, putting on a puppy dog face as he begged.

A former otaku had just met a beastman straight out of a fantasy tale. Herscherik couldn’t keep his heart from racing with excitement.