Chapter 38

The situation settled, Aethlyn was sent home, and the dog was sent to the veterinarian. Ben watched with a skeptical gaze as the massive dog was obediently fitted with a muzzle and led away by a leash. He asked Arcan, who was still standing in that spot, in a disgruntled tone.

“Your Grace, will this really be alright?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? That thing isn’t a magic beast.”

“Even if it’s not a magic beast, it could be a wild animal. It might even be a wolf-dog born between a wolf and a dog.”

“A wild animal, you say. Judging by its looks, it’s clearly been heavily handled by human hands, hasn’t it?”

“……”

“Speak your mind freely.”

Eyes as piercingly blue as Aethlyn’s turned toward Ben. Avoiding that gaze, Ben muttered in a small voice.

“Just in case, there’s even the possibility that it’s… a Wildman.”

“A Wildman. Are you trying to say that thing is a werewolf?”

At the counter-question, Ben scratched the crown of his head with his thick hand.

“Of course the probability is low. I know that, too. But given its size, or the fact that it suddenly appeared here, it just feels thoroughly suspicious.”

It certainly wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. Most people only thought of a werewolf’s beast transformation in the form of a half-human, half-beast walking on two legs, but the two men knew well from their direct experience in the military. That wasn’t the only beast form werewolves could take. Aside from that, there was also a ‘complete beast form’, an appearance like a wolf standing on four legs.

In truth, whether it should even be called ‘like’ a wolf was questionable. Outwardly, they were nearly identical to the point of being almost impossible to distinguish.

Furthermore, no matter how thoroughly Esta regulated Wildmen, including werewolves, the very fact that such strict control was emphasized served as proof of how difficult Wildmen were to handle.

In reality, criminal acts perpetrated by Wildmen occasionally made the headlines.

‘It could be a shady scheme pulled off by a gang of Wildmen.’

In conclusion, Ben’s wariness had a certain logical basis to it. Concurring with that, Arcan replied.

“True. It’s a reasonable suspicion. In fact, its appearance does resemble the beast form of a werewolf. But, Ben. Do not worry too much. I guarantee that thing is definitely not a werewolf.”

“Pardon? How… did you figure that out through magic?”

“Not through magic, but through observation.”

Flashing his blue eyes, Arcan clicked his tongue sharply once more.

“You saw the creature’s eyes just now, didn’t you? Is that the look of a Wildman?”

Arcan spoke with a touch of mockery.

“Not an ounce of wildness or pride was visible—they were the eyes of a pampered pet dog lounging in a noblewoman’s lap. It might be larger in build compared to the dogs Henry raises, but it lacks any real grit.”

“It certainly didn’t live up to its size, that’s for sure.”

Ben nodded in agreement. Recalling the way the dog had been fawning endlessly behind Aethlyn just moments ago, Arcan’s words suddenly made sense.

‘Talk about shameless flattery.’

As if reading his thoughts, Arcan muttered:

“Wildmen do not have eyes like that.”

“……”

“No matter how much they pretend to submit and obey on the outside, deep down inside, they never stop resenting us. The seeds of rebellion coil up within them, always watching for an opportunity to sprout.”

Anyone overhearing might have mistaken him for a radical Wildman supremacist. Yet Arcan was actually one of the figures in Esta’s magical society most sympathetic to Wildmen, and he had played a pivotal role in elevating the status of the Wildman Special Detachment.

“This intuition of mine rarely misses the mark. Of course, there may be facets of Wildmen I do not know, but still.”

Ben grumbled.

“Isn’t it excessive modesty for Your Grace to put it that way? There can’t be many people, mages or non-mages alike, who know and handle those fellows better than you, Lord.”

“Modesty, my foot. Between you and me, I am merely stating facts as they are. The reason I was able to handle Wildmen well was simply because I looked at them for what they were—without expecting anything from them whatsoever.”

Watching the Duke’s lips twist like a dry twig, Ben nodded silently. The two men reminisced in a brief silence.

A month had passed since then. Aethlyn had spent every day with the black dog. The idle, drifting time spent waiting for her Magic Academy enrollment had transformed into joyful, vibrant days. Before she knew it, hours would slip away as she strolled with the dog out to the lakeside or the fields.

Compared to when it had first appeared at the lake, it had changed remarkably. And for the very best. Its dry, coarse black coat now shone with a rich luster, and its once-miserable, hunchbacked gait had grown upright and valiant. It was an appearance anyone would readily admit was impressive.

Whether Aethlyn sat beneath the shade of a large tree reading a magic tome or skipped stones across the lake using magic ripples, the dog always quietly guarded her side.

Quiet did not mean indifferent or bored. The dog prudently anchored itself like a shadow and watched Aethlyn’s every single move. Its yellow eyes were brimming with loyalty and curiosity.

Even without Aethlyn explicitly expressing her intentions through words or actions, the creature moved to suit them. It would briskly fetch a book from across the room before she even stood up to get it, or when she was in the mood to run and play, it would dash ahead to set the mood.

And whenever she witnessed the dog’s clever demeanor, Aethlyn’s chest swelled with a sense of quiet pride. It felt as though she were being continually validated that her judgment had been right all along.

‘It truly was a brilliant creature after all.’

Thus, the creature’s intelligence quickly spread far and wide throughout the mansion. Even the servants, who had initially been appalled when Lady Aethlyn picked up a terrifying wolfhound from somewhere, now mostly acknowledged its harmlessness.

“At first, I honestly thought the young lady was going through a late adolescence. I was so startled, wondering where on earth she brought home such a terrifying-looking wolf-like thing. But seeing it now, I doubt there’s a more gentle dog in existence.”

“As for gentleness, it’s far more docile than the lapdog the old madam used to keep back then.”

“And it’s even smart. With a brain like that, it’s worth trying to raise it as a hunting dog.”

“Hmph. A hunting dog, my foot. How’s a softie like that supposed to drive out prey? It’ll be a miracle if it doesn’t get attacked in reverse. My guess is that someone tried raising it as a hunting dog at another villa and abandoned it because it wouldn’t work out.”

“Well, then it’s a blessing for both of them. Seeing young lady Aethlyn so happy, they were truly made for each other.”

And so, in less than a month since arriving at the mansion, the black dog began to be treated as Aethlyn’s best friend and mascot. The servants would exchange friendly nods with the creature as it trotted obediently behind Aethlyn or secretly slip it treats.

What about the members of the House Wintercrown other than the servants? Naturally, not all of them were friendly toward the dog. To the young duke and his wife in particular, the dog Aethlyn brought home looked ‘far too much of a mutt.’

Yet there was a fact even they were forced to acknowledge. It was that the dog was astonishingly docile and clever.

The notoriously fastidious elders of the House Wintercrown shared the same opinion, so before long, no one complained even when the dog followed Aethlyn into the indoor parlor or formal dining settings.

Indeed, the dog behaved with astonishing politeness. The sight of it taking its designated spot precisely where Aethlyn instructed and remaining motionless for long stretches like a stone statue was enough to evoke admiration from everyone.

John, Aethlyn’s uncle, also seemed intrigued by such a dignified demeanor. At a family dinner gathering, he tossed a lighthearted joke toward his niece Aethlyn.

“Aethlyn. By the way, when are you going to give the dog a name? Calling a creature that trails around behind you like that just ‘Dog’ all the time is a bit heartless, isn’t it?”

“…I’m agonizing over it.”

Aethlyn replied with a serious face. She wasn’t lying; ever since bringing the dog home, she had been racking her brain constantly trying to come up with a name. She had even searched through the library looking up names of dogs raised by great mages and scoured ancient language dictionaries from cover to cover.

Yet nothing felt quite right. She didn’t want a name that tried too hard, nor did she want one that sounded overly cutesy. She wanted something unique yet meaningful at the same time… John burst into a hearty laugh watching Aethlyn fall into the trap of perfectionism.

“That’s our ‘Young Duchess Aethlyn’ for you. Aren’t you taking naming a dog way too seriously? Just pick something roughly. If you spend too much time on that kind of thing, the dog won’t even recognize it when you call it later, you know?”

‘Young Duchess Aethlyn’. Her nickname.

At those words, the expressions of the actual young duke and his wife subtly stiffened. Janet, the young duchess, in particular, shot a gaze colder than ice. Oblivious to such an atmosphere, John looked over at Henry and tossed out another joke.

“Anyway, brother. Isn’t that stray dog Aethlyn brought home twice as smart as any high-pedigree hunting dog? Don’t you think?”