Chapter 1
It’s been ten years since I found myself in this strange, impossible world.
Back then, I was just an ordinary college student in my twenties. One bright afternoon, I went to ride the Gyro Drop for the first time in my life. After waiting two long hours, it was finally my turn. My heart raced with excitement as I was lifted into the sky.
Then the ride dropped.
And in that single, sickening plummet—something snapped.
Did my soul get flung out of my body? Did I die of a heart attack?
Whatever happened, I opened my eyes and found myself lying beneath a tree I’d never seen before.
“Rosha! You’re awake!”
“…Who… are…”
“You pushed yourself too hard trying to cross the ravine and fell into the canyon. Don’t you remember? I thought you were really going to die…!”
A boy—not a year older than twelve—clung to me tightly, trembling with relief. But the moment I saw his face, my gaze locked on one thing.
What the hell? Are those… animal ears?
Not the kind you see on novelty headbands at a theme park. No—these looked real. Soft, furry, and unmistakably a part of him. They twitched like a wolf’s or a dog’s.
At the time, I thought maybe it was some elaborate cosplay event. That illusion didn’t last long.
Wait a minute… why is this kid so big?
Or rather—why am I so small?
My limbs felt strange. Wriggling my fingers, I realized something was off.
Squish.
My hand—no, paw—felt soft. Furry. Tiny. And white.
“AAAAAAAAH!”
My body—my body—was covered in fur. Tiny claws. A small, snow-colored form. The shock hit me so hard, I passed out for a second time.
When I woke again, I fully expected to be back in my room, laughing about the weirdest dream of my life.
But the dream didn’t end.
It wasn’t a dream.
I was still a white weasel.
Not only that—I was also, apparently, being hunted.
“You’re awake, Rosha? We just need to cross one more mountain to reach the village where the other beastkin are waiting for us. Think you can do it?”
Cross a mountain?
I used to take the elevator up three floors in my own house.
And now this child—barely more than a kid himself—was telling me we had to hike over a mountain?
I wanted to scream what kind of ghost-story nonsense is this? But the look on his face stopped me. He wasn’t joking. His eyes held a seriousness, even a kind of quiet resolve.
So I nodded, dumbly. I didn’t know what else to do. My plan was to play along—just until I could figure out what was going on.
“Rosha. Stay close to me, no matter what. And if we meet any people—never speak while you’re in your beast form.”
“Okay… brother.”
I called him that instinctively. There was something steady and warm about him, a sense of safety I was clinging to like a lifeline. Maybe it was because he felt like family in a world where I had no one else. Or maybe it was because, apparently, I was now inhabiting the body of someone who was his family.
Either way, being cradled in his arms in that small, fragile body—it was the first warmth I felt in this world.
And maybe that’s why…
It only took three days of crossing mountains for me to grow attached to him.
He looked after me with such careful tenderness. It shocked me, how someone so young could carry so much responsibility. Despite his age, he never once complained. He held me close when the nights were cold. He reassured me whenever fear started to creep in. Sometimes, just watching him made my eyes sting with the urge to cry.
By the third day, we finally reached the village where the other beastkin were supposed to be.
I dared to hope.
Maybe… this nightmare is finally over?
But what we found instead was worse than any nightmare I could’ve imagined.
“Screeeaaaam!”
“Aaargh!”
“Catch them! Don’t let a single one escape!”
This wasn’t safety. This was a massacre.
Less than five minutes after entering the village, bloodcurdling screams echoed from every direction.
“Rosha, listen to me,” the boy said, pulling me into a narrow alley, both of us gasping for breath. “You understand what’s happening, right? The imperial army is here. They’re cleansing the village—hunting down beastkin.”
Cleansing.
That word lodged in my chest like a stone.
It wasn’t just the horror of having become a talking animal overnight.
Now I was trapped in the middle of a slaughter, where humans were exterminating creatures like me.
I was shaking so hard I couldn’t form a word.
And then the boy looked me in the eyes and said:
“Live. No matter what—live as a human.”
Live… as a human.
At the time, I didn’t realize those would be his last words to me.
“There! Beastkin in the alley!”
The shriek of a whistle tore through the air. Footsteps thundered toward us—armor clanking, soldiers shouting.
The boy reached into his cloak and pulled out a small pouch.
Inside were two things: a gem and a dagger.
He pressed the gem to my mouth.
“W-wait, brother—!”
But it was too late.
I swallowed it.
A strange coolness spread through my body. My eyes closed—then opened again.
And I was human.
My limbs. My skin. My voice.
This was me again.
“What… what is this…?”
“You’ll need one gem a day to maintain your human form,” he said urgently, shoving the pouch into my hands. “Don’t forget. You must take one each day.”
I could barely process what he was saying.
But then he looked at me, one last time, and whispered:
“Don’t forget my request, Rosha. The world is cruel—especially to beastkin.”
He looked almost human—almost. His body was human-shaped, but streaked with fur like a wolf. A hybrid. Something between.
He stepped behind me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders.
Then I felt the cold kiss of steel against my neck.
“W-what…?”
I wanted to cry out for him, to scream his name—but the blade pressed close, just enough to pierce skin, and I bit my lip instead. Tears welled in my eyes—not from fear, but from understanding.
The soldiers saw us.
“Beastkin! He’s taken a human hostage!”
From behind me, the boy called out, loud and clear:
“Come any closer, and I’ll kill this human!”
My heart clenched.
He’s calling me human.
He did this… so I could live.
So I could escape.
So they’d see me as one of their own.
But I didn’t want to be alone.
Why? I thought. Why can’t we just live together? Why do we have to be hunted?
I felt the dagger tremble ever so slightly against my throat. His hands were shaking.
And that’s when it hit me.
He was terrified, too.
Then—from somewhere behind us—another soldier appeared. Silent. Swift.
A sharp crack echoed through the alley as the soldier struck the boy in the back of the head.
He collapsed.
“Oh…!”
I turned, startled, his name on my lips—but before I could speak, the boy was already collapsing.
Even as he fell, he shook his head at me, silently telling me not to move.
That moment stretched, dreamlike and weightless, as if the world had slowed just for us.
Thud!
His body hit the ground.
Then came the blood—thick and bright—spilling across the dirt like ink across parchment.
My legs gave out. I dropped to my knees, numb.
A soldier ran toward me and grabbed my shoulders. “Are you alright? What are you doing here? This is an active sweep zone—we’re clearing out beastkin!”
But my eyes were locked on the boy. On his small frame lying so terribly still. I couldn’t speak. My body trembled, frozen in place.
“…Kid?” the soldier asked more softly. “You’re human, aren’t you?”
My gaze drifted toward the ground where his blood was pooling.
Red. Warm. Metallic. No different from a human’s.
Two more soldiers began dragging the boy’s body away—rough, unceremonious. As if he were no more than garbage.
No—don’t!
I started to reach out.
And in that instant, he opened his eyes.
Barely.
His lips curved faintly. Just enough to call it a smile.
Then he mouthed a word I’ll never forget.
Live.
I clenched my eyes shut as tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and silent.
Something inside me cracked, and I forced my throat—clogged and swollen with emotion—to produce the only words I could manage.
“…I’m human.”
I couldn’t refuse him.
Even if he never knew that the soul inside his sister wasn’t hers anymore… I couldn’t let the girl he saved die after everything he’d sacrificed.
My head fell forward, and my eyes dropped to the pouch still clutched in my hand.
The cloth was warm with his lingering body heat, and I could feel the hardness of the gems inside—his last.
“I… I’m human. Please… let me live.”
And that day, I swore I would.
No matter how strange this world was, no matter what it threw at me—I would survive.
That vow became the cornerstone of everything that followed.
It would be a long time before I truly understood the world I had fallen into.
—
“Good grief. What’s a dead weasel doing here? Disgusting little thing…”
It was early morning when the maid, busy with her cleaning rounds, spotted a limp white body beside the staircase.
Clicking her tongue in distaste, she muttered something about ill omens, grabbed the thing disdainfully by its hind legs, and carried it toward the open window.
Clack—
Without a second thought, she flung it out.
Thump.
The weasel landed with a dull sound among the flower beds below.
To anyone watching, it looked completely lifeless—its eyes shut, limbs slack.
But if one looked closely, they would’ve noticed the faint rise and fall of its chest.
Time passed.
Then—rustle.
A polished boot brushed the white fur.
The man wearing it paused. He was immaculate—golden hair gleaming in the morning light, clad in a clean, sharp uniform that seemed to repel even the dust.
He knelt, something in the corner of his eye catching his attention.
The furred body, small as a handful of snow, had shifted.
He reached out, careful fingers turning the creature over.
“…A weasel.”
Sunlight glanced off his golden hair as he tilted his head, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“White… and tiny.”
For a moment, he simply observed.
It fit neatly in his palm. Its fur was silky, almost glowing in the light. Its ears, small and pointed, were tinged with the faintest blush of pink. The same soft hue colored the pads of its feet. Its black nose was glossy, and beside it sprouted a few delicate white whiskers.
He wondered—if it opened its eyes, would they glimmer just as brightly?
His gaze dropped to its front paw—swollen and red.
He frowned.
Then, without hesitation, he picked the weasel up in one hand.
It stirred slightly in his grasp, twitching as if caught in the middle of a bad dream.
He cradled it against his chest.
The warmth seemed to soothe it. Its tense little body began to relax, sinking gently into his arms.
He smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting almost imperceptibly.
“Your Highness… what is that?”
The question came from a silver-haired man who had just approached, adjusting his glasses with a wary look. He kept his distance, as if the small animal posed a threat.
The blond man glanced down at the weasel in his arms and replied, voice low and amused,
“Who knows… perhaps a little angel, fallen from the sky.”
And he smiled again.
As if he were holding something precious. Something meant just for him.
