Experiment (1)

Looking up at the canopy of branches and leaves that blotted out the sky, I flew in between the willow branches, which hung down like heavy curtains.

Closing my eyes, I focused my mind. Thanks to my senses being far sharper than they were in human form, I could hear the faintest sounds: the whispering wind, the rustle of leaves, and the soft patter of animal footsteps.

Good, no humans around. Relieved, I shifted back into my human form.

As my perspective shot upward and my vision dulled slightly to match my human eyes, I pushed the branches aside and slowly surveyed my surroundings. Towering trees blocked most of my view, but the ground was littered with the tracks of small animals and traces of what looked like their burrows.

This was the Small Animal Area of the Imperial Forest, where the hunting competition had been held not long ago. And I was here completely undetected. Well, almost completely. One person knew: the First Prince, Rasiah Abaran. He was the one who had cleared the area of guards and rangers for me, even if he had thrown a massive fit about it.

He had glared at me, but there wasn't much he could do. At most, he might secretly search my room or send search parties into the forest in a couple of days. But there was nothing to find in my room, and even if he sent people here, they couldn't possibly overturn every single stone in a forest this vast. Besides, as a mere prince, he didn't have the authority to completely upend the Emperor's private forest anyway.

Of course, my claim that I was visiting the forest to find a cure was only half-true. Which meant it was also half-lie. My real objective today lay elsewhere.

I followed the faint traces of small animals scattered throughout the forest floor—herbivore droppings hidden in the moss, tiny paw prints, and half-nibbled wild berries discarded on the ground.

Today, I planned to test the limits of my ability. The incident with the black horse had led me to a hypothesis: perhaps I could transform into animals other than a crow.

If my power wasn't limited to just turning into a crow but was actually something much more versatile, I needed to know its range and how to utilize it. That is, if my ability truly was animal transformation.

Finding a patch of damp earth near an oak tree, I set down a small, long cylindrical trap. I filled it with some of the wild berries I had brought along. If some dim-witted creature was unlucky enough to wander in, I would use it for my experiment.

Small animals were ideal for repeated testing, and more importantly, I didn't think I could capture a large beast without getting hurt. If I tried to start with a wolf, I'd probably get torn to shreds the moment I got close. I had to start small. Extremely small. Like, say, a squirrel.

Pop. A tiny figure suddenly poked its head out from a hollow covered in decaying leaves and moss. A small head, a striped tail, and a chestnut-colored body. It was, without a doubt, a squirrel.

"..."

"..."

The squirrel and I stared at each other in awkward silence. The squirrel was startled to step out of its home only to run into a gloomy-looking human, and I was caught off guard by encountering my target before I was even fully prepared.

"Uh, come here for a second."

Flustered, I slowly nudged the trap out of sight and reached my hand out to the creature. Even to me, it felt ridiculous. There was no way a wild animal would just walk up to—

Patter, patter. ...Or so I thought. Contrary to my expectation that it would bolt immediately, the little guy climbed right onto my palm with a blank expression. It even locked eyes with me, its tiny nose twitching.

Is the Seventh Prince really that popular with animals?

"If you're this trusting of humans, you're going to get caught in no time."

Despite my dumbfounded muttering, the squirrel tilted its head and scurried around on my palm. Yeah, you'd better just stay inside your burrow during next year's hunting competition.

My original plan had been to catch any small animal using the trap, keep it confined, and then test the conditions for transformation. If all else failed, I was going to turn into a crow, snatch one up, and lock it away. But now...

"Hold on. Stay still for a second."

Because this hyperactive little creature had climbed into my hand so easily, I ended up flustered, unable to even cage it. While I rummaged through my bag with my other hand, the squirrel, apparently deciding we were now best friends, began climbing all over me.

Its initial climb onto my hand must have been a fluke. This tiny squirrel simply could not sit still.

"Look, look at this."

I pulled out my trump card. The squirrel finally froze, its gaze locked onto the acorn in my hand as if hypnotized. I had specifically chosen the glossiest, plumpest one from the wild nuts I had gathered. The squirrel couldn't take its bead-like black eyes off it.

"Shh. Easy now."

I gently placed the acorn into its tiny paws. The squirrel's eyes widened slightly, looking up at me with what seemed like pure, unadulterated gratitude. When I simply watched without taking it back, the squirrel, seemingly understanding that the gift was indeed theirs, inspected the plump acorn from all angles. It opened its mouth, preparing to stuff it into its cheek pouch.

It was the perfect moment. I snatched the acorn right out of its paws just as its mouth popped open.

Biting down on empty air, the squirrel stared blankly at its empty paws, then at the acorn back in my hand. A deep sense of betrayal and utter bewilderment filled its tiny black eyes as it looked up at me.

Yes, this was it. I carefully retraced my steps from the previous two transformations. The crow whose neck I had wrung on my first day of transmigration, and the black horse that had abandoned me during the hunting competition. The common denominator between them was clear: betrayal. The emotion that had filled their eyes was undoubtedly the catalyst and condition for my transformation. And nothing bred betrayal quite like giving a gift only to snatch it back.

"Squeak! Squeak! Skreech!"

As if proving my theory correct, the furious squirrel let out a series of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠high-pitched, rat-like squeaks and began furiously pummeling my arm with its tiny paws.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry."

I handed the acorn back. Though my tiny, black-eyed friend was clearly disgruntled, it couldn't resist the tempting treat. Glaring at me, it snatched the acorn and quickly stuffed it into its mouth, terrified I might steal it again. The angry squeaking didn't stop, though.

Leaving the slightly appeased squirrel beside me, I slowly closed my eyes. The condition had been met. Since it had shuddered with betrayal just like the others, my hypothesis dictated that I should now be able to transform into a squirrel. Just like when I turned into a crow...

Wait, what can a squirrel actually do? I pictured the little creature that had been scurrying up and down my body. I want to climb trees with absolute freedom. I waited for the familiar warm energy to envelop me, just as it always did.

"...?"

But nothing happened. When I opened my eyes, I was still a full-sized human. The squirrel was merely staring up at me, its expression seemingly asking, What on earth are you doing?

"I'm so pissed! I'm so incredibly pissed!"

Unable to contain his rage, Rasiah Abaran thrashed around on his bed, repeatedly punching his pillow. The sheer force of his blows ruptured the fabric, sending goose feathers exploding into the air, but even that did nothing to soothe his anger.

Lately, only one thing had the power to make his blood boil like this: his wretched seventh brother. A pathetic insect whose name he hadn't even bothered to remember. That very insect was the sole reason Rasiah was currently subjected to this humiliating, self-imposed confinement in his own bedroom.

As the memory of the boy's smug, insolent face flashed in his mind, the First Prince slammed his fist into the bed once more. The damage to the luxurious frame was worth more than a commoner's annual living expenses, but Rasiah couldn't care less.

Hadn't that brat always crawled on the floor like the insect he was? Actually, he couldn't even remember clearly. For as long as Rasiah could recall, he had been destined to be crowned Crown Prince. He had never had any reason to commit the faces of his lesser siblings to memory.

He had a vague memory of the imperial palace buzzing when he was young, just before his Manis measurement, over the birth of some black-haired prince. As he grew older, he had occasionally heard whispers about a half-baked failure who possessed absolutely no power.

But before long, the boy had faded from his memory. Part of it was due to the Emperor's complete disregard for him, but it was also because the relationships among the imperial family were governed by the ruthless law of the jungle.

Those at the top had no interest in him, while the other siblings with weaker Manis despised him for lacking the energy despite bearing the imperial name. The First Prince had belonged to the indifferent camp. But now, he had firmly crossed over into hatred.

Just you wait. The moment this treatment is over, I'll skin him alive and hang his hide from the windows of the Seventh Prince's Palace. Gritting his teeth, the First Prince tried to suppress his rising bile.

Knock, knock. As he was venting his frustration, a knock sounded at the bedroom door.

"Who is it? I thought I made it clear that no one was to be let in."

"Your Highness, the Second Prince is here seeking an audience."

At the knight's report that his younger ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠brother had come all the way to the First ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Prince's Palace, Rasiah bolted upright. The Second Prince was the only sibling he truly trusted, his real brother. He instinctively wanted to see the pleasant fellow to lift his foul mood, but he forced himself back down onto the bed.

The obnoxious face of his seventh brother, delivering those warnings in that grating voice, flashed vividly before his eyes.

"Damn it... Tell him I'm not here. Tell him I went to the hunting grounds."

Rasiah spat out the order to the knight, then turned back to his bed to resume pummeling his ruined pillow.

"The First Prince is currently at the Imperial Forest enjoying a hunt."

"Ah, it seems I chose a bad day. Very well."

The Second Prince, Dito Abaran, turned away with a look of polite disappointment and began to walk out of the First Prince's Palace. The gatekeeper bowed deeply, feeling apologetic at the sight of the gentle smile lingering on the prince's lips.

Maintaining his smile the entire way out, the Second Prince paused in his tracks. He turned back, casting a long, calculating look toward the window of the First Prince's bedroom. His smile deepened as he turned away once more and resumed his stride.

"I wonder who taught my foolish older brother how to hide from people," he murmured to himself, his voice dripping with amusement.