Erry Tobock had slept in far worse places—snow-buried campsites, monster dens, collapsing caverns, even a swamp lodge owned by an eccentric alchemist who believed humidity was good for the soul.
But somehow, the cold stone room he found himself in now ranked annoyingly high on his personal list of "places I'd rather never see again."
The cell was not a dungeon, not exactly. It was simply… a storage room, converted to hold a single human. No chains, no bars—just thick stone walls, a locked door, and a constant draft from the narrow window above. The night wind slithered down the wall and crawled under his collar, making even his breath come out white.
Erry sat cross-legged against the wall, arms folded loosely, expression unreadable.
He had not slept.
He didn't feel like sleeping.
Not when beastman guards patrolled outside with a rhythm that indicated heightened alertness—not routine duty.
Not when nearly every sound beyond his door carried tension.
Not when he had no weapon, no control, and no plan beyond waiting.
His sword—his partner for more than twenty years—had been confiscated. He didn't protest; he understood the logic. A human stranger with a blade stronger than their own guardians? They'd be fools not to take it.
Still, being without it felt wrong.
Off-balance.
Incomplete.
Erry exhaled slowly.
Morning light crept through the tiny slit window, cold and blue. Dawn brought new noises—distant market chatter, metal clanging, patrols changing shift.
And then—
Something small hit him.
Something round.
Soft.
He blinked, ignored it.
A second projectile hit him a moment later.
Then a third.
He sighed.
"…Fruit?" he muttered, picking up a mushy red berry from the floor. "Really?"
Outside the window above him came the giggles of beastman children.
Then a squeaky voice:
"Human!"
"Human! Come out!"
"Traitor-lover!"
"Ugly face!"
Erry stared up at the window.
He couldn't see them—only small shadows flitting past the opening—but he could definitely hear them.
Another berry bounced off his shoulder.
This was his morning.
He leaned back.
"…How early do children wake up here?" Erry mumbled.
A guard outside scolded sharply, "Hey! Enough! Leave the human alone!"
"Awwww!"
"He's no fun!"
Erry rubbed his face.
He wasn't offended—not really. He was used to hostility from beastmen. Used to distaste. Used to suspicion.
Humans and beastmen had been at each other's throats longer than his entire lifetime.
The children eventually ran off, their laughter drifting away. Erry returned to silence.
Silence and cold.
Hours passed.
He barely moved, simply breathed and waited.
He was good at waiting.
When the door finally creaked open, Erry didn't bother looking up.
Footsteps entered—light but firm. A familiar presence.
Killu Thornclaw.
The general's shadow loomed over him.
"You look as though you haven't slept," Killu said.
Erry shrugged. "You try resting when children use you for morning target practice."
Killu's ears flicked. "They only threw berries."
"Still counts."
A brief silence followed before Killu asked, "Did you retaliate?"
Erry scoffed. "Why would I fight children?"
Killu's expression tightened, unreadable.
"Good," he finally said. "We do not need… additional complications."
Erry finally looked up. "You're here because the elders made a decision."
Killu nodded.
"The council deliberated through the night. Your presence has become a matter impossible to leave unresolved."
"So?" Erry asked calmly. "Am I being executed? Deported? Given a strongly worded lecture?"
Killu did not answer immediately. That alone was unsettling.
Finally, he spoke:
"You are being moved."
Erry raised a brow. "To where?"
"A guest house within the palace grounds. You will be treated as a guest of the dominion… in appearance."
"…In appearance," Erry repeated, unimpressed.
"You will have food. Clothing. A private room. Bath access. Anything you need."
"But not freedom."
Killu's silence confirmed it.
Erry stood. "So a fancy prison."
Killu exhaled, annoyed. "Do not call it that."
"But that's what it is."
"You will remain under guard," Killu explained, "until the elders conclude whether you pose a threat to the kingdom—especially after what happened yesterday."
Yesterday.
The ambush.
Lyra collapsing.
The panic.
The chaos.
Erry felt nothing in particular when he remembered it.
He saved her because she was there.
Because she would have died otherwise.
That was all.
He didn't know her.
He didn't owe her anything.
Yet…
For a brief moment, he recalled her trembling fingers gripping his tunic.
Her tail twitching in pain.
Her feverish breaths against his neck.
He pushed the thought aside.
"Fine," Erry said. "Lead the way."
Killu gave a sharp nod and signaled the guards.
"Do not try anything suspicious," Killu warned.
Erry arched a brow. "What could I possibly do with no weapon, no plan, and no idea where I am?"
Killu paused.
"…Good point."
The palace corridors were steeped in silence as they marched.
Not the comfortable kind.
The suffocating kind.
Servants halted in the middle of their work as soon as they saw him. Their ears flattened, their pupils narrowed, and whispers followed his every step.
"A human? Here?"
"Why hasn't he been chained?"
"Did he threaten someone?"
"Is that the outsider who carried the princess?"
Erry ignored it all, but the guards surrounding him seemed awkward—split between hostility and duty.
One muttered irritably under his breath, "Why does he walk so calmly…?"
Another replied, "Look at him. He looks like he owns the hallway."
"I do not," Erry said flatly.
They flinched.
Erry didn't bother elaborating.
As they passed a balcony, Erry caught sight of a tower on the far side of the palace—white stone decorated with silver feline insignias and three-tailed banners.
He didn't know why, but the tower gave him a strange feeling.
A heaviness.
A memory that wasn't his.
He looked away.
"Move," Killu commanded.
---
When Erry arrived at the place they prepared for him, he had to admit—it was certainly nicer than a cell.
A spacious chamber.
Soft bedding.
A carved oak desk.
Warm light from enchanted stones.
Steam rising from a bathing room in the corner.
A maid bowed politely—but the moment Erry met her eyes, her tail bristled and she looked away, trembling.
Erry sighed internally.
He stepped inside and glanced at the table—already set with fruit, meat, warm bread, and tea.
"We will bring meals three times a day," the maid stammered quietly. "P-please do not leave without permission."
Erry nodded. "I won't."
She quickly retreated, almost stumbling as she left.
Killu turned to Erry one last time.
"You will not be harmed unless you cause harm. Understood?"
Erry nodded again.
"And your sword… remains confiscated."
"Of course it does," Erry muttered.
Then the door shut.
Heavy.
Final.
Erry stood alone in the luxurious room.
A prison is still a prison.
He walked to the window.
The view showed the palace courtyard—beastmen training, servants carrying supplies, citizens entering the outer ring of the castle.
He could see life.
Vibrant.
Constant.
A life he couldn't touch.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"This is going to be a long stay."
He sat on the bed.
Soft.
Too soft.
Uncomfortably soft.
He lay down.
Stared at the ceiling.
His thoughts drifted—not toward Lyra herself, but toward the situation.
A human in a beastman dominion.
A princess with a mysterious illness.
A council that didn't trust him.
A kingdom that hated him.
He needed to leave.
Sooner rather than later.
But he couldn't—not until they released him.
And they wouldn't release him until they finished "evaluating" him.
Erry closed his eyes.
He didn't intend to get involved in anything here.
But he couldn't shake the slight, lingering feeling—
that the moment Lyra's unconscious body left his arms, the quiet between his ribs felt… different.
Empty.
He ignored it.
Hours later, a knock came.
Three sharp taps.
Erry sat up. "Come in."
The door opened revealing Killu once more—though this time, he looked uneasy.
The general bowed his head slightly.
"Erry Tobock. The elders summon you."
Erry stood, stretching his shoulders. "Finally."
"Prepare yourself," Killu warned.
"Their judgment will decide more than your release."
"Meaning?"
Killu hesitated—actually hesitated—before answering.
"Meaning… depending on what they conclude, your future in Felinte Dominion may change completely."
Erry's brows knitted. "In what way?"
Killu did not answer.
"Let's go," the general said instead. "They are waiting."
As Erry stepped into the hallway, surrounded by guards once more, he felt a strange sensation crawl up his spine.
A feeling he rarely experienced.
Not fear.
Not anxiety.
But inevitability.
Something was coming.
Something he wouldn't be able to avoid.
And despite himself, Erry muttered under his breath—
"…This can't be good."
The door to the Council Chamber closed behind him with a heavy, echoing thud.