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“Get lost nya! We don’t have anything for the likes of you, nya!”

I woke up to Noche’s yelling early in the morning. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I tried to peel away Sufi’s arms wrapped tightly around my head… but couldn’t. Well, it’s not like I needed the bathroom, so it was fine.

With no other choice, I stayed lying down and tilted my ears toward the entrance. Thanks to these big, movable beastman ears, I could catch the conversation clearly.

“Looks like you’ve been stockpiling a lot of food lately, huh? That means you’ve got some to spare, right? Share a little—it’s called helping each other out.”
“Don’t screw with me, nya! When have you ever lifted a finger to help us, huh?”

The one talking with Noche… judging from the voice, it sounded like she was dealing with a boy. His voice hadn’t changed yet, so he was probably still young, though I couldn’t be sure.

Coming all the way just to beg for food… must be a kid from the slums. From the tone—lazy and mocking—he didn’t sound friendly at all.

“…So even in town, there are people like that.”
“Yeah.”

Sufi must have woken up too; she hugged me even tighter.

People who usually look down on others, never willing to help on their own… yet the moment they’re in trouble, they act like it’s only natural to demand cooperation. That kind of person exists everywhere, I guess.

Poverty dulls the mind. Those born into miserable circumstances grow up with selfish, base ways of thinking and living. Because that’s the only way of life they’re ever taught… That’s what my guardian in my previous life used to say.

I once overheard Grandpa lamenting when he saw the villagers behaving selfishly. Captain had also told me many times: *“Be careful if someone who approaches you was raised like that.”*

Compared to that, Noche and Filia’s level-headed behavior stood out all the more. Those two must have their own baggage, no doubt.

But anyway—

“Sufi, hey.”
“Mm?”
“I want to get up, can you let go?”
“Mmm—”

…don’t hug me tighter instead, sis.

■ ■ ■

“Quit being stingy!”
“Yeah, hand over a little at least!”
“We’re not giving you lot a single thing, nya! How many times do I have to say it!”

When Sufi and I went to check, hand in hand, we found Noche squaring off near the entrance with a group of boys in filthy clothes, tempers flaring.

It’s not that she wouldn’t help them, it’s that she couldn’t. If a weak, listless kid like me had been the one dealing with them, they would’ve just pushed me around and mocked me to no end.

Even if I’d been in my old body… the result probably wouldn’t have been any different.

As I stood there, unable to put a name to the feeling welling inside me, one of the boys shouting suddenly locked eyes with me.

I’d wandered over half-asleep, but it seemed like showing myself had been a mistake.

“…Who the hell are they?”
“They’ve got nothing to do with you, nya.”

Noche quickly stepped between us, cutting off the boy’s gaze.

“So you’ve got food for outsiders, but none for us?!”
“You’re just a black-haired monster-fake!”
“—You b̲a̲s̲t̲a̲r̲d̲!”

At those words, Noche’s fur bristled with fury.

Rather than their selfish requests… it seemed like the word they spoke touched a nerve the most. Sparks of anger seemed to prickle in the air as she lunged at the boy who had called her a “monster-fake.”

The intensity of her rage was on a completely different level from anything she’d ever shown in front of us. Even I was a little shocked.

Just as the boys moved to fight back, Noche shoved the one she had grabbed away and quickly took distance. The boys were bigger, and there were five of them. Even for a beastman, with superior physical ability, wrestling with that many would’ve been dangerous.

Instead, Noche fought cleverly—yanking an arm here, tripping a leg there—constantly moving, never letting herself be caught, whittling away at their will to fight.

It was a style so practiced, so confident, that I couldn’t feel worried watching her.

The stone floor was cracked and crumbling from age; hitting it hard when tripped must’ve hurt a lot. The kids who were only tagging along with the ringleaders quickly lost their fighting spirit after a few painful falls.

That left just two—the leader types. But Noche had already calmed down, dealing with them easily and with plenty of composure. I couldn’t really do anything to help, but it looked like she didn’t need it anyway.

Sufi had tensed up, ready to leap in, but watching Noche’s movements, she must have realized the outcome was decided—she was already relaxing her guard.

Since things seemed fine for the moment, I turned to Filia, who was wringing her hands nearby, clearly flustered. There was something I had to ask.

“Filia, what did that mean?”
“Eh?”
“The thing about black hair and monsters.”
“…Wait—Alice, you really don’t know?”
“?”

Filia’s eyes widened in surprise, as if I had asked something completely unexpected.

The way Filia reacted, like it was something everyone should know, made Sufi and me glance at each other. If it wasn’t something about Noche personally, then judging by the wording, it had to be referring to black hair.

I racked my memory just in case it was something I’d forgotten, but nothing came up.

There hadn’t been anyone with black hair in the village, and I didn’t recall Grandpa ever mentioning anything about it. Even in the books I’d borrowed to read, I didn’t remember coming across that sort of knowledge.

Maybe it’s the characteristics of some complicated bloodline or something?

“W-well… black hair is a sign of monsters. It’s tainted, so it brings misfortune…”
“…Ahhh… *That*.”
“That’s all?”

…Here I thought it was going to be something important. Turns out it was just a superstition. Both Sufi and I let out a relieved sigh together.

“Huh?”

Monsters often have dark skin or fur. Since black hair is rare here, someone must’ve made a sloppy association: black hair equals monsters. The fact that there aren’t any concrete examples backing it up only proves it’s baseless.

If it were rooted in actual events, there’d be at least a folk tale about some black-haired person who did something terrible. I’d already suspected it when Grandpa never mentioned anything, but apparently it wasn’t even a story passed down specifically among beastkin.

Honestly, I probably know less about beastkin than the other way around.

“Aren’t you… scared?”

Filia, still confused, asked hesitantly. She must’ve thought we already knew and was worried we’d start being afraid now that we’d learned.

“You’ve been with Noche for months, and nothing happened right? That makes it an empty superstition. No reason to be afraid.”
“Yup, yup.”

There’s always cause and effect. Even if misfortune happened, the odds of hair color being the direct cause are tiny.