In the police station, Zhou Ruiyang was meticulously recounting what had just happened. The two officers listened with utterly baffled expressions.

"Hold on, let’s get this straight," one officer said, rubbing his temples. "You mean you have a friend named Sparrow in the park, and she was kidnapped yesterday?"

"Yes. She was probably caught by a bird catcher. I tried to chase him, but he jumped into a taxi and fled. I remember his license plate number is—"

"Alright, alright. Skip the plate number. Just go home, kid," the officers cut in. Their serious faces vanished instantly. One even pressed his lips together to stifle a laugh.

A lighthearted mood filled the room.

Zhou Ruiyang froze. "Why?"

"It’s just a sparrow. Even if he killed her, finding that bird catcher would only earn him a scolding at best," the officer shrugged. Sparrows were protected animals, and capturing them was illegal—but only cases involving twenty or more birds got filed. Besides, police rarely dispatched officers unless caught in the act. With so many human cases, who cared about one sparrow? Of course, if it were a red-crowned crane instead, they might take it seriously.

"Killed?" Zhou Ruiyang’s expression darkened. He slammed the table. "That’s unacceptable! My friend isn’t an ordinary sparrow—she’s incredibly intelligent and understands humans—"

Before he could finish, the left officer turned stern. "Enough! Go home now. Don’t bother the station over trivial things like this. Just find another sparrow friend if you must."

"But—"

"No buts! Stay any longer, and you won’t leave today. Disrupting police order isn’t a joke!" The officer, convinced the kid was wasting time, snapped harshly to drive him off. Only a madman would report a missing sparrow at night.

Zhou Ruiyang opened his mouth but gave up. He knew mentioning his roommate-turned-sparrow would land him in a cell.

Dejected, he reached the station entrance. Not watching his step, he collided full-on with an incoming officer.

"Ouch… Hey, it’s you?" the officer exclaimed in surprise. "Back already? Another case?"

Zhou Ruiyang looked up—it was Captain Yang, who’d helped him solve the kidnapping case before.

An officer called out from afar, "Captain Yang, nothing major. This kid insists a sparrow was kidnapped and wants us to handle it."

"A sparrow missing?" Captain Yang frowned.

"Yes. She’s my close friend. Every minute she’s gone puts her in danger," Zhou Ruiyang said worriedly. He didn’t want to argue—he just needed to find Mujin.

Captain Yang recalled how this young man had credited a sparrow for memorizing a license plate during the last case. Could that park really have an unusually smart sparrow? If so, letting a life-saving bird be killed felt wrong. And even if ordinary, Zhou Ruiyang had helped crack a big case. Gratitude demanded he assist.

After a pause, Captain Yang patted Zhou Ruiyang’s shoulder. "Here’s the deal, kid. We don’t dispatch for sparrows, but I’m on night duty. I’ll pull the park’s surveillance footage to help you search."

Zhou Ruiyang’s eyes lit up. "Really? Thanks, uncle!"

"Uh, I’m only thirty—"

…

【Host has received a new mission: Avoid becoming braised Sparrow and escape successfully. Success grants 5% progress bar and a mystery reward. Failure makes you delicious.】

The System was playing its dark humor again, but Mujin couldn’t laugh. This was the one mission she absolutely could not fail.

Half a month ago, hearing "braised sparrow" would’ve made Mujin crave a taste. Now, only terror filled her. Because the sparrow in that dish was herself.

Mujin had been naive. She’d thought the standout bird gets shot—that the dancing sparrow would suffer most. But it turned out the talented ones were luckiest.

Wait—that was her! She was the dancer!

That other sparrow’s moves were terrible!

Mujin screamed inwardly. She wanted to spread her wings and fly to the boy’s hand to prove it. But a sharp pain reminded her she couldn’t fly anymore.

Mujin froze. If she couldn’t fly out, how could she prove she was the real sparrow? Dancing in the cage was impossible—it was packed with sparrows, no room to perform.

Gritting her teeth, she jumped off the perch, determined to hop her way out. She shoved past other sparrows, hopping forward desperately.

Just as she reached the door, the lifted cage gate slammed shut.

The gate to hope closed ruthlessly.

"Alright, son, go do homework. Dad will store this sparrow. The rest joins dinner tonight," the man said.

"Can you eat sparrows, Dad?"

"Sure. I cooked them last time—you said they were tasty."

"Oh, right! That plate was sparrows? Why did they seem smaller?"

"Plucked, they shrink. But even small sparrows have meat."

The boy bit his finger, drooling as he stared at the cage. He sucked back the saliva and grinned. "Great! Thanks, Dad!"

The boy left for his room. His father sat on a stool outside the cage, placed two large stainless steel basins before him, opened the door, and grabbed a sparrow.

The bird struggled fiercely, pecking at his hand. The man didn’t flinch—he even grinned. Futile effort.

Throat slit. Blood drained. Feathers plucked.

In under two minutes, a once-lively sparrow lay bald and serene in the basin.

Mujin watched from the cage, pupils shrinking. Her entire bird-mind froze.

As a human, she’d seen market vendors kill chickens and fish. She’d tsked at the cruelty but never felt true terror. Now, as a sparrow, she empathized—like humans feeling phantom pain when seeing a finger chopped off. Before, she’d been a spectator. Now, the butcher’s knife loomed over her tiny neck.

How could she not fear?

Calm down, Mujin! Stay calm!

This wasn’t the time for fear—save your life!

She repeated it inwardly, but it was futile. Few stay fearless at death’s door. Most freeze like puppets, awaiting their end.

Mujin seemed to think, but wasted time without ideas. Before she could react, a large hand seized her, yanking her from the cage.

"Huh, this one’s cute. Plump. Must have good meat," the man muttered, raising his knife.

The blade gleamed coldly, flashing into Mujin’s eyes.

Reality snapped back—death was less than five centimeters away.

"Help!"

The knife stopped abruptly, less than a centimeter from her.

"Who’s speaking!?"