Wasn't Cale Henituse a human!?

I

Cale stood before the mirror, utterly speechless. He tried to move his new fox ears, which twitched in response, while his tails swayed gently, mumbling. "Ha... calm down, Rok Soo... it's just a dream... yeah, a horrific dream..."

He gave his cheeks a soft slap and winced at the sting. "Damn it... it hurts..." He examined his reflection, noticing his cheeks had taken on a slight blush of red.

His mind was already in turmoil when he heard a knock at the door. Cale's eyes twitched in irritation as his tails began to wag with a frantic, yet oddly slow-motion fury. 'Goodness... just what I needed!'

Cale sensed a presence in the room, though he could not hear any footsteps. His eyes narrowed. It was that assassin... Ron.

He then heard an elderly, warm voice call out, "Young master, are you in the restroom?"

Cale tensed, his ears twitching furiously and his tail remaining taut. Taking a deep breath, he turned on the tap to muffle his voice, replying in a composed, albeit slightly drowsy tone, "Yes..."

He fervently wished for his ears and tails to disappear, and to his immense relief, they did.

He muttered a silent prayer to his parents-never to a god, of course.

Moments later, Cale opened the door and found a man in a beige butler uniform standing before him. The man wore a vicious smile that seemed out of place.

Ron, maintaining his composed demeanor, said, "I am surprised to see you awake on your own and so early today, young master."

Cale rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his slightly damp hair.

"Master wishes to dine with you, as it has been some time. It appears today might be a suitable opportunity."

Cale felt his anxiety rise but quickly regained his composure. He couldn't afford to lose his cool and risk having those ears and tails reappear.

"Young Master Cale? I am guessing you're still a bit inebriated?" Ron inquired, a hint of concern in his voice. Cale wanted to scoff at the pretense of worry; it was well known that Ron Molan regarded Cale Henituse merely as a work obligation.

Hearing Ron's feigned concern, Cale's thoughts drifted to a name far more significant than his own: Beacrox.

He mumbled, "Beacrox..."

"Are you referring to my son?"

"Chef..."

"Yes, my son is a chef. Would you like him to prepare something to alleviate your hangover?" Ron's voice was laced with a pretense of concern.

Cale felt the events from *The Birth of the Hero* swirling in his mind, causing a wave of dizziness. He lowered his head into his hands.

"Young master, are you still inebriated? Should I call for a doctor?"

Cale jerked his head up and met Ron's concerned gaze. He could sense the hidden strength beneath that facade, a force trying to mask the bloodshed he had committed years ago. His heightened senses, as a fox, allowed him to perceive these subtleties more acutely.

This only made the old man appear even more vicious , Cale thought, suppressing a shudder.

Ron, with a slight frown, called out, "Young master?"

Cale turned his gaze toward the balcony and uttered, "Cold... water."

"Excuse me?"

Cale needed some time to gather his thoughts, and he required this viciousnold man to leave him in peace. He had noticed earlier, upon seeing his reflection, that he didn't have a scar yet.