I failed to track my prey for the twentieth time.
Flattened against a sun-baked rock, I watched the rabbit pause, do a tiny hop of victory, and leap into the grass, vanishing like it had paid for a premium escape package.
No food today.
Again.
At this rate, I was going to starve to death, fossilize on this rock, and one day archaeologists would argue about my remains while I laughed from the afterlife.
"Perhaps it was a ceremonial leopard."
"No, clearly it died of incompetence."
I stared up at the sky in silent despair—then instantly regretted it and scrambled under a nearby tree, hissing like a vampire. The sunlight stabbed straight into my eyes.
I roared in pure annoyance.
Why...
Why did I have to be stuck in a body like this?!
Just a few days ago, I was a perfectly normal, overworked rich and successful woman. I had spent the entire day sculpting at a client's house, nodding politely while they said things like, "Can you make it feel more… emotional?"
Whatever that meant.
I came home exhausted, poured myself a glass of Heidsieck Monopole 1907 champagne, because I deserved it, and sat down to read a newly released novel titled:
Trapped in the Beast World with My New Husbands.
Yes.
Judge me later.
When I opened my eyes again, I was surrounded by grass, trees, mountains, and an aggressively endless sky. I also noticed something deeply concerning.
I was smaller.
'Why did I become smaller?
Where was my house?
My couch?
My unfinished expensive wine?
Why did everything smell like dirt and grass?'
"Hello?" I called out.
What came out was not a voice.
It was a roar.
…A roar.
'What the fuck?!' I mentally screamed, because vocally I sounded like a malfunctioning lion documentary.
I looked down.
A white cub.
I blinked hoping that I was dreaming. Once. Twice.
…I was still a cub.
'Am I dreaming? Or am I already dead?'
If I died from expensive champagne and hit my head on a table corner, that would be humiliating beyond repair.
I tried standing up and immediately fell over.
I tried again—this time using all four paws. I wobbled forward, legs shaking as I took one careful step after another.
After several seconds of flailing like a malfunctioning table, something finally clicked. My balance settled. My legs stopped arguing with each other. And, miraculously, I managed to walk.
Walking didn't help much, though, since I had no idea where I was going. So I sat down and did the only logical thing.
I panicked internally and tried to think.
After the champagne, I'd gotten dizzy and hit my head. If that really killed me, I wanted a refund.
But still, I had read enough novels and watched enough anime to recognize this situation. This was classic transmigration, reincarnation, waking up in another world or whatever you call it, it's still the same old formula.
Usually, the medium was something useful—some completed novel, a game, or a manhwa. Something with a plot guide.
Me?
I hadn't even gotten past the title.
Tell me. What good is a newly released novel supposed to do for me?! I didn't know the plot. I didn't know the world. I didn't even know what I should do here!
My stomach chose that moment to growl violently.
Apparently, I had transmigrated into a beast that was already halfway to death. Fantastic. Five stars. Would not recommend.
So I hunted.
Or at least, I attempted to.
And that's how I ended up lying under this tree, empty, exhausted, and contemplating my life choices—both past and current. I barely had the strength to move, but I forced myself toward a nearby stream, dragging my dramatic fate behind me.
The water was clear enough to show my reflection.
A leopard.
To be precise, a white leopard.
I examined my fur. Definitely white. Very much not the standard leopard color scheme. Then I looked at my eyes.
Red.
Of course they were red.
"Oh," I thought flatly. "I'm an albino."
Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.
Suddenly everything made sense. Why I sucked at hunting. Why my prey spotted me immediately. Why the sun felt like it personally hated me.
Bright white fur. Red eyes. Sun sensitivity.
Whoever decided to place me into this cursed, high‑visibility leopard body—may you never sleep peacefully and let the bed bugs bite.
I shook my head and drank some water, trying to calm down, but old habits die hard. Before I knew it, my paws were moving on their own, shaking and licking my wet face. I froze mid-lick, staring at my paw like it had just grown a second head. What the hell am I doing? Am I… really a leopard now?
No time to dwell on existential crises, though—BOOM! An explosion tore through the air. My ears shot up, swiveling toward the noise.
Not far from me, something had slammed into the top of the mountain. Flames roared, smoke billowed, and explosions kept popping off like fireworks gone horribly wrong.
'Wait… airplanes? Already? In this wor—'
My thought evaporated when a shadow detached itself from the smoke. A huge, black beast leapt into the sky, wings slicing through the air with a terrifying grace.
My jaw dropped. Holy hell. A dragon. A real dragon. I was so stunned I forgot my sun-blinded eyes even existed. Excitement bubbled up, and for a moment I was like a cub at a candy store.
Then… my excitement faded. Something was off.
The black dragon flapped its massive wings and dove, then stopped midair. Its claws ripped at its own obsidian scales, and a low, humming roar vibrated through the air. Bits of blood-stained scales rained down like deadly confetti. Its tail swished, creating gusts that threatened to knock me over.
I barely had time to process the disaster before one of those scales smacked my tail.
Pain shot up, sudden and sharp.
I screeched, wrapping my tail in a desperate hug as tears pricked my eyes. Yeah, this was definitely my fault. Standing there like a deer—or in my case, an albino leopard—glued to the scene.
And there I was, tail throbbing, teary-eyed, thinking: Note to self—next time, maybe don't get excited over dragons.
I glared at the dragon again, half in awe, half in terror.
It was still… self-destructive. Like, seriously, tearing itself apart for what felt like forever. Then it let out this guttural, uncontrollable roar that rattled my bones. It whipped its head toward the mountain and breathed fire. Not like a "cute campfire" kind of fire—full-on molten apocalypse. The heat was so intense, the plants withered into ash instantly, and some rocks looked like they were reconsidering their life choices. The fire spread fast, faster than I could blink.
After releasing the flames, the dragon paused for a moment before stretching out its claws to rip at its scales more harshly. This lasted until the dragon was exhausted. The dragon claws lowered and the black dragon flipped uncontrollably before it fell down from the sky.
Then, just when I thought it was done, the dragon paused and started clawing at its own obsidian scales like it had some kind of obsession with self-mutilation. It didn't stop until it looked absolutely spent. Its claws drooped. It flipped in midair then fell from the sky.
I thought, 'okay… maybe it's tired now. Maybe it's harmless.'
Nope.
The dragon was heading straight for me.
Uh-oh.
I bolted. All four paws firing like some kind of furry sports car. The shadow it cast swallowed the sun. I ran so fast I briefly considered yelling, "Send help! Or a laser gun!" But the shadow… shrank. Weird.
Then—thump! Something landed behind me. Too light to be the dragon, way too precise to be a falling rock. My tail twitched with suspicion.
I skidded to a stop, ears twitching, and slowly turned.
Nothing. The dragon? Gone. Just… gone.
Curiosity overrode caution (bad idea, always a bad idea). I crept toward the sound, stepping through the grass with the stealth of… well, a tiny, terrified albino leopard.
And then I saw him.
A man. Black and silver uniform. Lying in the grass by the same stream I'd been hiding at.
I crouched low, eyes narrowing in what I hoped looked like a predator's glare and not a confused house cat squint. Slowly, I stretched out a paw and poked the man.
Nothing.
I poked him again. Still nothing.
"Okay," I thought, "either he's unconscious… or I just assaulted a corpse."
I tilted my head and examined him more closely. The clothes he was wearing—black and silver—were clearly not normal. Considering he'd just been violently clawed at by a dragon (himself, apparently), they should've been shredded into ribbons. Instead, they were torn and ragged but somehow still intact, like indestructible designer wear.
The skin, however, was not so lucky. Wherever the clothes were ripped, the flesh underneath was scratched and bloody, courtesy of his own dragon claws.
Ah.
So that explains it.
This guy was definitely a beast man.
Which meant… oh.
Oh.
I was in luck.
Why would I rescue him when, by beast logic, he technically counted as prey?
I was a leopard now. A real, honest-to-nature beast. A starving one, too—I hadn't eaten in days. In the world of beasts, there were no moral debates or ethical dilemmas. The weak became food. The strong survived. Nature documentaries loved this stuff.
I wanted to live.
So I leaned closer to his slightly curled hand, tilted my head like I was curious and not having a full mental breakdown, and opened my mouth. I forced myself to bite down on one of his fingers.
…Nope.
Absolutely not.
I growled and jerked my head back, shaking it hard like I was trying to fling the thought out of my skull. A normal beast would've been drooling by now, but I was still human on the inside! I could barely stomach eating chicken nuggets without sauce—there was no way I was biting into a humanoid dragon man.
Instead, I did the next best, deeply unhinged thing.
I licked his wounds.
At least the bleeding slowed and eventually stopped. I sat back, feeling both proud and extremely uncomfortable with myself.
Then my stomach growled again.
"Stop it," I mentally snapped at myself, sitting beside the unconscious man with a dramatic sigh. "We're not doing cannibalism. Ever."
I glanced at him again, ears flicking.
Great. Now I had a wounded beast man, and an empty stomach.
What in the world was I supposed to do with this guy?