MPBGS 14

Chapter : 14

Kanna was being bullied by Evangeline and quietly wiping away tears alone in the garden when she heard a rustling in the bushes. Startled, she went on alert, only to find an injured wolf appearing from the foliage. Usually, in stories, it’s common for this to be a setup where the wolf is fleeing from enemies of its family or slave traders.

Kind-hearted Kanna carefully tended to the wolf, and since the wolf thought she was just an animal, she probably even gave it some affectionate touch, right? I mean, I fuss over Pudding in the same way. Time passed, the wolf eventually healed, and Kanna released it back into the wild.

Years went by, and then—when the wolf returned to repay the favor—it would be over. What would the dialogue be? “Even though you called me cute…” something like that? Suddenly, my enthusiasm for romantic fantasy overflowed uncontrollably.

I stared at the wolf. Right now, in wolf form, I couldn’t tell if it was handsome, but if it was, then it was definitely the love interest. Or would Gabriel be the love interest, and the wolf someone else? Since it’s an old work, maybe it was a reverse harem. The unexpected appearance threw me into confusion.

Wait. So even Gabriel wasn’t enough, and I get the werewolf route too? Once would have been enough. Twice? Really?

“…Please save me.”

The wolf said weakly. Its tail curled in, as if scared. Why did it say “save me” twice? I was a little embarrassed, recalling how I had just watched the injured wolf without taking any action.

I felt a bit guilty. Honestly, I considered pretending not to see it and calling Kanna over. Just for a moment, I hesitated.

But I wasn’t ignoring the injured animal. I wanted Kanna to come and help heal it. I thought maybe, since its true form was human, it could endure like a person.

But… now that it actually spoke, if I just let it go, it would be a moral problem.

“Then come with me.”

I held out my hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, the wolf extended its paw. Soft, jelly-like, and squishy.

I hadn’t meant for it to literally give me its paw—I just wanted it to transform into a human and take my hand. I wasn’t trying to violate its rights!

“What’s your name?”

I appreciated the paw it had already offered. As I touched the soft paw jelly and asked for its name, the wolf didn’t answer. No name? That couldn’t be.

It probably just didn’t want me to know its identity yet. After all, in stories, characters usually reveal their true selves to the heroine only later.

Then I’d give it a makeshift name. Something cute, because it has jelly-like paws…

“I’ll call you Jelly.”

The wolf looked a little dissatisfied but didn’t resist. It didn’t matter if it didn’t like it. If it was unhappy, it could always reveal its real name.

I wondered how I’d carry this heavy thing upstairs, but in the blink of an eye, we were in the room. What? What’s going on?

“Did you do this?”

“Yes!”

Jelly answered energetically.

Here, beastmen can use magic too. I never expected the first mage I’d see in this other world to be of a different species. Ah, beastmen are probably sorcerers.

But usually werewolves are frontline fighters, right? How do they manage sharp claws and still use magic? I was a little displeased, but realized this might be a sort of species discrimination, so I reflected.

Anyway, I was glad we made it upstairs safely. Now, I had to treat its wounds, but with all the fur, I couldn’t tell how bad the injuries were.

“Try transforming into a human; it’ll be easier.”

Before I could blink, Jelly transformed. I expected a sharp, fierce appearance, but it looked surprisingly gentle. I worried it might be naked, but thanks to fantasy logic, it was dressed appropriately—even if the clothes were ragged, at least it wasn’t entirely bare.

In human form, the injuries looked worse than I’d imagined. Covered by fur before, its body was lacerated and pierced with sharp wounds. Had it been in a sword fight somewhere?

I intended just to provide first aid, but this seemed beyond that. I debated whether to summon a doctor or a priest when Pudding appeared and spat something out with a “tch.” The bottle was ornately and delicately crafted—I recognized it immediately.

“Holy water?”

Indeed, it was. Pudding meowed affirmatively.

So there was holy water! I thought we had used it all, but I guess there was a spare, probably taken from the Count’s room. It brought holy water without hesitation, not even wary of the stranger wolf. My clever little cat. I petted Pudding, and it rubbed its face against my hand.

As I melted at Pudding’s charm, a sudden uneasy thought struck me. Until now, I’d assumed the world had no beastmen. But isn’t Pudding unusually clever for a cat?

No way. No way… right? Pudding, please don’t be a beastman!

I anxiously watched Pudding, which meowed cutely. Wait, thinking back, Pudding had never spoken human language. Right, if it were a beastman, communication would have been difficult until now.

But my mind was already leaning toward believing Pudding was a beastman. Damn! If I’d known this world had beastmen, I’d have been more cautious.

Better ask Jelly later, just to be sure. For now, I needed to deal with the patient in front of me.

Since Pudding appeared, Jelly had curled up in fear. Was it scared of a cat despite its size? Shouldn’t the cat be scared of the wolf?

Yet Pudding seemed confident. Was there some hierarchy between them I didn’t know?

Or maybe Jelly was intimidated by its small size. Usually, creatures that can’t control their strength fear chicks, worried they might accidentally crush them. Thinking this way made sense.

“Drink this.”

“Huh? This?”

With only one bottle, covering all the wounds externally seemed impossible; drinking it would likely be more effective.

Jelly seemed to dislike holy water, like a child at its first dentist visit, so I had to open its mouth manually. After resisting briefly, it didn’t push my hand away.

“…toomayoo.”

After drinking the holy water, Jelly puffed its cheeks and mumbled. What a cute lisp!

What a drama queen. Even after drinking holy water, it just complained. This is all for your own good! I almost scolded like a strict adult, but I held back.

Night fell at the Rohanson Mansion. All servants had left except for those on night duty.

Night staff had to draw curtains and turn off lights in all areas except the Count’s study and the third floor to complete their work.

The floors were rotated among staff. Today, Olive was in charge of the fourth floor. Colleagues who had been there before reassured her that it wasn’t as scary as she feared, and that Miss Evangeline never left her room, so she could focus on her tasks.

Why did the colleagues lie to Olive?

Since earlier, she had been hearing painful groans. Olive tried to ignore them and focus on her work.

Walking down the hall with the lantern, she noticed the sound growing louder with each step. Along with the groaning, she could hear something squelching in a pooled liquid. The noise came from just to her left, and she peeked toward it.

That side was Miss Evangeline’s room.

Olive tried to avoid realizing what it was and continued forward. A step later, she heard splashing underfoot.

Shining the lantern, she saw a puddle of liquid seeping from under the door. Its deep red color seemed strange, but she assumed it was the lantern light and hurried on.

After turning off all the lights on the fourth floor, her work was done. Olive, relieved, descended the stairs. It was so dark that one misstep could have been dangerous.

Looking down, she spotted a shoe. Her heart sank, and she stumbled, barely catching herself on the railing.

“Are you okay?”

Startled by the voice, she raised her lantern. In the faint light, she saw a maid, probably also on night duty. Olive sighed in relief.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You were only looking at the floor. Be careful at night; it’s dangerous.”

The maid shyly covered her mouth with both hands. Her smile eased Olive’s tension. She had been too nervous, expecting no one. Looking around, she realized she was near the first-floor landing. She had really lost focus.

The maid seemed to have errands upstairs and passed Olive on the stairs. Olive wondered if she’d go to the fourth floor, but recalled the groans and stayed silent. Surely, she was only going to the second floor.

When Olive entered the first-floor office, Lantana, who had stayed behind, angrily approached and took the lantern, placing it back and glaring at Olive.

“Why are you so late? If only you’d returned it, this would be over! I wanted to leave early!”

No way. Someone hadn’t returned the lantern yet. Olive remembered the name tag on the uniform—embroidered messily, but clearly “Kanna.”

“Kanna hasn’t come back yet?”

“What nonsense? You’re the last one, and there’s no such name on tonight’s duty roster.”

No such name? Olive clearly remembered the maid covering her mouth and smiling with both hands.

Both hands? Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen the lantern when passing the maid earlier either…

“Did you dream it? Don’t say things like that if you’re scared.”

A dream? Olive checked her shoe soles. There were unmistakable footprints.

If only it had been a dream. Lantana, seemingly distracted, led Olive out of the office. Olive’s return was thirty minutes later than usual.

“Why does the butler make us do such tedious tasks?”

Lantana muttered complaints about the butler. Olive realized the lantern instruction had actually been considerate—the people wandering the mansion at night wouldn’t carry lanterns otherwise.