A Guide to Keeping a Beastman - Chapter 1

A virus that triggered genetic mutations transformed most of the world’s animals into humanoid beings.

They gained humanlike limbs and faces, even emotions and intelligence, but there were certain animal traits they could never shed.

Ears, tails, and fangs, for example, as well as their volatile, explosive animal nature.

After four hundred years of chaos, humans and beastmen managed to live together in an uneasy peace.

But how deep did the divide between us really run? Who could say?

My name was Chen Mo, identification number 1076. I was a tool the government used to deal with beastmen who lost control.

Beastman killer, hunter, cleaner—call me whatever you liked. That was the work I did.

Once the job was finished and I had recuperated, I picked up my suitcase and returned to the city where I lived.

Only when I boarded the subway did I discover that beastman auxiliary officers had been assigned there at some point.

This one was probably canine. He had upright ears and a huge fluffy tail. His nose twitched, and he glanced in my direction.

An animal was still an animal. Even dressed in a police uniform, he had to keep a bite guard firmly strapped over his muzzle.

He said something to his partner, and the two of them came over.

I let him inspect my suitcase. The gun and my bloodstained clothes had long since been destroyed, and I had showered several times and changed into fresh clothes.

When you did dirty work, cleaning up your traces mattered most.

He bent over and sniffed me from head to toe. One furry ear brushed my jaw, and then he tried to crouch down to sniff between my legs.

Stupid dog.

I shoved him away. “What are you doing?”

My sharp rebuke in a woman’s voice quickly drew attention. I was not particularly short, but next to a beastman his size, I looked downright petite.

A hulking beastman and a slight woman—everyone turned at once, watching his every move.

“You smell like blood.”

His partner found a sanitary pad in my suitcase. “Oh, for—”

The human officer gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, miss. He’s a little on edge.”

Without a word, I repacked my things and boarded the train under their watchful eyes.

The doors slid shut. Holding the handrail, I looked at him through two panes of glass and curved my lips into a smile.

His dog ears sprang upright in alarm.

I finally relaxed when I got home. I set down my suitcase and took off my coat. My shoulder still ached a little.

Earlier, I had been pinned down and slammed into a wall. Damn beastman had gone berserk the moment he tasted human blood.

I peeled off my clothes one piece at a time, then removed two scrubbed-clean fangs from the strap around my thigh.

That dog’s nose was pretty good. He could still smell blood after I had soaked them for so long.

Holding one fang between my fingertips, I examined it carefully under the light. Its owner must have brushed his teeth diligently while he was alive. The fang was clean and white—a genuine work of art.

Everyone needed a hobby. Mine was collecting the teeth of beastmen who had bitten humans and been hunted down by me.

I swabbed them carefully with alcohol one more time before putting them on display.

A pair of jackal-beastman fangs. Beautiful.

I wondered if that beastman auxiliary officer’s fangs were beautiful too.

One job usually earned me a good stretch of leave, and I lived a very lazy life between assignments.

That was the best thing about settling in a city with a large human population: I could finally let my taut nerves relax.

I slept until I woke naturally, then ordered delivery. The courier was… a beastman.

Tch. Creatures that gave birth by the litter certainly knew how to multiply.

If the beastman population kept growing, I would consider moving to another city.

I was about to shut the door when a black-gloved hand slid through the gap.

“We’ve met before, miss.”

He pushed up his obstructive helmet, revealing a pair of amber eyes.

Oh. The beastman auxiliary officer from the subway.

“Doesn’t the station pay you enough? You deliver food too?”

He seemed not to understand the barb. Very politely, he asked, “Miss… would you mind if I took a look inside?”

I was equally polite. “Do you have a warrant?”

He fell silent.

I smiled sweetly and slammed the door in his face.

The stupid dog had latched on to me. For days afterward, I saw him downstairs, conducting surveillance from a battered van.

Whenever I ordered delivery, he was invariably the one who brought it up. He must have sensed something.

I was getting impatient, but I did not want to call my superior over such a trivial nuisance.

After all, my little collecting habit was strictly forbidden.

Eventually, irritation drove me downstairs to knock on his window.

“You’ve been watching me for so long, puppy. Want to come upstairs?”

His eyes lit up, but the moment I took his hand and let my fingertips linger over his palm, his smile vanished.

“…What are you doing?”

“Playing dumb?” I squeezed the muscle on his arm and slowly stroked upward. Just as I was about to reach his chest, he jerked back and stared at me with wide, wary eyes.

“I… I’m not for sale.”

I tossed my hair, my tone flirtatious. “I wasn’t planning to pay.”

That frightened him off.

I waved away the exhaust fumes as I watched him drive off in a crooked line and disappear around the corner.

Little virgin: handled.