On February 20, Ron's flower shop in the City of Chaos welcomed a new member.
Though perhaps that wasn't entirely accurate.
After all, Husky had already been carried into the guest room on the second floor many days ago.
But back then, he was just a patient.
No one knew what his future would be.
Even now, Husky himself felt a bit lost.
Aside from occasionally helping clean or carrying heavy items when needed, he didn't have much to do.
Most of the time, he simply sat in the backyard, either contemplating life or just spacing out.
Now and then, when Ron had time, he would invite him into the study for casual conversations, occasionally touching on topics about the beastfolk.
Husky didn't know Ron's intentions—he simply answered whatever was asked.
As time passed, his body continued to recover.
His gray-black and white fur grew glossier, and his once-cloudy green eyes gradually regained their clarity.
His tribe was gone.
And as a deserter who defied the Beastfolk Royal Court, returning was no longer an option.
As for this place—the City of Chaos—it was perhaps the only place on the continent, aside from the Frozen Tundra, where beastfolk could exist.
With multiple races coexisting under shared governance, racial discrimination was more restrained.
Even if people looked down on other races internally, they maintained a surface-level politeness.
And Ron's flower shop was even more unusual.
Husky had learned that Ron was the Seventh Prince of the human empire—roughly equivalent to a young chieftain of a major beastfolk tribe.
Far above someone like him, a mere young chieftain of a small tribe.
Yet this high-ranking human noble treated him—a beastfolk—with surprising friendliness, never showing hostility.
Even more astonishing—
One of Ron's women was a half-beastfolk catgirl.
Among beastfolk, half-bloods were despised.
Because they resembled humans, they were often treated worse than slaves.
Yet here, Nora was respected.
Part of that respect came from Ron—but not all of it.
Husky could tell.
As for the other half-beastfolk in the shop—
That small girl named Yuna…
Husky's gaze darkened.
From her, he felt intense danger.
A survival instinct honed through countless brushes with death told him—
Even at his peak, he wouldn't stand a chance.
She could likely take him down in a single exchange.
And her gaze seemed to warn him—
Step out of line, and you won't like the outcome.
Husky didn't feel offended.
If anything, it was reasonable.
After all, he was a beastfolk—and Ron was a prince.
Having a powerful bodyguard was only natural.
Yuna was at least sixth-tier—and likely dominant even among that level.
If not for his sharpened instincts—and her intentional warning—he might not have noticed anything unusual at all.
But none of that mattered.
He had no intention of causing trouble.
As a member of a small tribe, his resentment toward the Beastfolk Royal Court might even exceed his dislike of humans.
If humans tried to kill him, he would fight back—it was a matter of survival.
But for his own kind to send their people to die—
That, he couldn't accept.
In past winters, his tribe had never been chosen as expendable forces.
Back then, he had believed—
Sacrificing some to save many might be justified.
So he stayed silent.
Until it happened to his own tribe.
And by then, he had lost the right to speak.
The fact that he survived was nothing short of a miracle.
"Husky, spacing out again?"
A clear voice came from behind.
He turned slightly to see a slender girl sitting beside him, hugging her knees and tilting her head to look at him.
He glanced at the creator of that miracle—then turned back, giving a simple "Mm."
"Miss Nora made some pastries at noon—they're really good. Want to try?"
Jorina brought out a white porcelain plate with several soft, delicate-looking pastries.
Seeing the expectation in her eyes, Husky found it hard to refuse.
Besides, he already knew Nora's cooking was excellent.
He raised his claw, pierced a pastry, and popped it into his mouth.
Jorina beamed.
For a while, they chatted.
Mostly, it was Jorina talking—Husky only occasionally responded.
After finishing the pastries, Husky licked his lips, still wanting more.
The sweetness wasn't unusual—but somehow addictive.
Then he noticed the silence.
Turning, he saw Jorina staring at him—eyes wide, curious… and a little timid.
At his body.
For some reason, Husky felt a chill.
"What are you looking at?"
"Ah—!" Jorina startled. "N-nothing… I just thought… your fur looks really soft…"
Husky: "?"
What kind of hobby is that?
Is it because humans don't have fur?
Seeing he didn't seem angry, Jorina gathered courage:
"Can I touch it? Just once…"
After a pause, seeing the hope in her eyes, Husky nodded.
Jorina let out a delighted sound—then quickly suppressed it, smiling shyly.
That expression… oddly struck something in him.
Before he realized it, she had already touched his arm—and more than once.
Upstairs, Ron happened to glance out the window and saw this scene.
He couldn't help but laugh.
Did I bring home a beastfolk—or a big dog?
It doesn't wreck the place, even helps with chores… not very "husky-like."
Shaking his head, Ron returned to his book.
…
"If you're free, you can come play cards with us," Jorina suggested.
"During breaks, we go to the game room next door."
"There are usually five of us—so we play Element Cards or Legendary Kill."
"Legendary Kill is especially fun with more people—you'll like it!"
Husky listened, slightly confused.
Names like War of the Gods and Legendary Kill sounded like historic events—
But they were just games.
He wasn't interested.
For a prince to invent such things… seemed a bit frivolous.
Still, he didn't refuse—he nodded.
If Jorina asked, he didn't mind.
"Great! I'll come get you tonight!"
…
That evening.
In the second-floor living room:
Ron sat at one table.
Five staff members—including Jorina—sat at another table, with Husky beside her.
Sylvie came upstairs, looking a bit defeated—likely after another losing streak in War of the Gods.
Even after the tournament reset, her performance hadn't improved.
Still, she seemed to enjoy it.
She sat across from Ron, mentally reviewing her matches—though whether her conclusions helped was another matter.
Soon, Nora and Yuna brought out hot pots.
Dinner began.
This was Husky's first time eating hot pot.
He stared at the steaming pot, puzzled.
Jorina immediately explained.
In the Frozen Tundra, small tribes often ate raw food.
Using chopsticks awkwardly, Husky felt resistant.
Thinking it was just unfamiliarity, Jorina picked up slices of lamb, dipped them in sauce, and fed him.
Under everyone's gaze, he felt embarrassed—but accepted.
The moment he tasted it—
Everything else vanished.
The flavor exploded across his tongue.
The meat… the sauce…
It was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Meals in the tundra were like chewing ice.
This was something else entirely.
He began eating eagerly, clumsily using chopsticks.
"How was the tournament today?" Ron asked.
"Very competitive. I learned a lot," Sylvie replied seriously.
Ron turned away, suppressing a smile. "That's good."
"Your Highness," Sylvie added, "there's a major prayer tomorrow morning, and a blessing ceremony the afternoon after. Please attend."
Ron nodded.
"Boss, the ring match started yesterday—it's going well. Want to take a look tonight?" Nora asked.
"Sure. Let's go together."
He glanced at the others.
Yuna and Sylvie both declined.
At the other table, Jorina watched Husky eat, smiling—then frowned.
"Husky… why are you only eating vegetables?"
"Don't beastfolk like meat?"
Husky froze.
"…I'm just not used to cooked meat."
In truth, meat had always been scarce.
Small tribes traded minerals for food, but meat was mostly withheld by larger tribes.
They survived mainly on grains and vegetables.
It had become a habit.
Jorina's question stirred something in him.
He suppressed it.
But somehow—
The food no longer tasted quite as good.