Chapter 30
Ray stared straight at Perea.
Perea, not avoiding his gaze, looked right back at him.
She actually felt good about it. Finally, he was looking at her — properly. For feline beastmen, wasn’t steady eye contact a classic sign of friendliness?
Theo had liked her right from the start, saying she smelled like flowers. But Ray had been different.
Her proud, distant escort knight had always kept his distance, never once meeting her eyes.
Yet ever since they had returned from the forest a few days ago, Ray had been acting… a little friendlier.
Well, not in the normal sense of friendly — but compared to how cold he’d been before, it was definitely progress.
At least now, he could look her in the eye for more than three seconds.
Perea thought his blue eyes looked refreshingly cool, almost beautiful, and she smiled softly.
As a human, that was her simplest way of showing affection — a smile.
Tick, tick, tick. The seconds passed.
And then, Ray’s brow furrowed sharply. He broke eye contact and turned his head away, almost abruptly.
“Be careful,” he said — his tone cold as frost.
The warm atmosphere instantly froze over.
Perea blinked, confused. Careful? About what?
Watching his broad shoulders — which seemed to sag five centimeters lower than before — she tilted her head and blinked rapidly.
Meanwhile, Ray was feeling worse by the second.
Something about that moment, about what he’d sensed, confirmed a bad feeling he’d had — and it irritated him deeply.
He didn’t even know why he was irritated. He just was.
‘See? Humans and beastmen… we’ll never truly get along.’
With that gloomy thought, he pulled up his cloak again, covering himself completely.
From now on, he’d be traveling among other beastmen too. Just as Theo had to hide his tiger traits behind rabbit ears, Ray would need his cloak to conceal his own identity.
Having an unusual fur color was a nuisance — one that always forced him to hide.
Then it hit him — there was still something he hadn’t told Perea.
He hadn’t expected they’d end up traveling together this long, so he’d kept quiet. But now… maybe it was time.
Ray turned his head and looked out the carriage window.
There was Perea, sitting with Theo, happily sharing the cookies they’d bought at the last rest stop.
It should have been a warm, peaceful sight — but somehow, it bothered him.
The Amur Empire was a vast nation, built on enormous territory and powered by the abundance of magic stones.
Unlike most predatory beastmen, the tiger beastmen were fiercely individualistic. It had never been easy for them to unite.
The only reason they had once come together was because the first emperor, Amur I, had been so overwhelmingly strong that he had forced his siblings to submit.
Since then, the Amur royal family had upheld an unspoken rule:
The throne does not pass to the eldest child — but to the strongest.
That rule remained unchanged even under the current ruler, Emperor Amur VII.
He had four sons and two daughters — a surprisingly large number for tiger beastmen, who rarely had many children.
But unlike his predecessors, who had maintained strict monogamy, Amur VII had children with the Empress and three concubines.
That was where the trouble began.
Even if the tradition said strength decided succession, the Empress still believed one of her sons — born of the main wife — should inherit the throne.
The concubines, naturally, disagreed. If their sons were stronger, then they deserved to rule.
The Emperor, caught in the middle, was exhausted.
If the Empress’s sons had been truly talented, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But… they weren’t.
His first and second sons were arrogant fools who lacked even a hint of crisis awareness.
They boasted loudly but had no real strength, no skills in combat, no discipline in study.
They ignored lessons in military strategy, economics, sociology, and governance — all the knowledge a ruler should have.
Instead, they surrounded themselves with flatterers, using their inherited power without responsibility.
So naturally, the Emperor’s attention shifted toward his other children.
Among them, he especially favored his fourth child — talented, capable, and almost perfect… except for one minor flaw.
That flaw, however, made the Empress’s faction look down on him completely — because the fourth son was a mutant.
Different, not purely tiger. And for the proud tiger nobles, that was unforgivable.
Even so, the Emperor continued to cherish his fourth son.
But then, a new threat appeared — the youngest child.
The sixth — the baby prince — was healthy, clever, and far too promising.
For the first time in twenty years, the Empress and her allies felt real fear.
They had thought they could remove the fourth son easily if needed. But the youngest? He was spotless — there was nothing to criticize, no excuse to strike.
Desperate, the Empress tried to recruit the third and fifth princes to her side. But both refused — neither cared for the throne.
That left her only one option.
She had to eliminate the youngest before he became too strong to touch.
So began their secret campaign to get rid of the child.
They tried many methods and failed each time — until finally, it seemed their prayers had been answered.
“Sister! Sister!”
The second prince, Edic Pantera Amur, burst through the door, his huge arms slamming it open so hard that the handle hit the wall and shattered.
His older sister, Marlene Pantera Amur, didn’t even flinch. She calmly lifted a teacup to her lips.
“Sister! Listen to me!”
“Yes, yes. What is it?” she replied lazily.
“The tracker signal is gone!”
“Oh?”
At last, a spark of interest flickered in Marlene’s eyes. She set down her cup gently — the liquid inside wasn’t tea, but thick, crimson blood.
She dabbed her lips with a handkerchief, then tossed it to the floor.
A nearby servant rushed to pick it up immediately. Reuse was beneath her.
Without a word, Marlene gestured to the seat opposite her. Edic plopped into it, eager to report.
“I told you, didn’t I?! No matter how strong that brat is, no one can survive a monster bomb explosion!”
Every time he spoke, thick drops of spit flew everywhere.
It was disgusting to watch, but no one around him dared react.
Despite being a tiger beastman, Edic’s bulky frame wasn’t made of muscle — it was fat. His chin rolled in layers, and his stomach spilled over his belt.
Just a few sentences left him sweating like rain.
He stretched out a hand, and a servant immediately placed a silk handkerchief in his palm.
He wiped his face roughly, then threw the cloth to the floor. The similarity between the siblings was uncanny — equally arrogant and spoiled.
“Can we really trust that device’s performance?” Marlene asked coolly. “I heard it was still in the testing stage.”
“That’s what they said! But it’s basically ready for mass production! I worked so hard on it myself!”
Edic’s voice cracked, part frustration, part whine. His round tiger ears twitched violently.
Every time his sister treated him like a fool, it made his blood boil.
The attendants trembled at his sharp tone, but Marlene alone remained calm.
“It’s not that I doubt you,” she said smoothly. “But Father always told us, didn’t he? ‘Verify everything twice.’ I’m simply reminding you.”
Her soft voice immediately cooled his anger. Edic blinked, trying to recall whether their father had ever said such a thing.
He couldn’t remember — his mind was always full of food and jealousy toward his siblings — but he nodded anyway.
“Right, right. Double-check. I get it!”
“I knew you’d understand,” Marlene said with a thin smile.
“So, how about sending some of those quick knights from the Noel Order to confirm what really happened?”
Her voice dripped with quiet manipulation, and at her suggestion, Edic’s thick eyebrows twitched.
