Sensing Mavis’s intent, Maur puffed up like a startled cat whose tail had been yanked by a mischievous human—bared teeth, fluffed fur, all fierce posturing. He wrenched free from her hand, seemingly boneless yet iron-tight, and bolted to Lilith’s side in near-panic.
Unlike Maur, a mage who lived by raw magical talent, Lilith—likely due to her mixed heritage—excelled in close-quarters combat. At just seventeen, she was already an Expert-level swordswoman. Though Maur and Lilith constantly clashed, he had to admit: that was rare.
On the Kachibia Continent, earning the Expert-level title meant becoming a transcendent being. Yet eighty percent of humans would never breach that gate. Most remained Lv1 minnows. A few gifted commoners might reach Lv2 Professionals through study. Lv3 Elites? Always nobles’ domain. Even nobles, pouring vast resources into training, rarely crossed into Lv4 Expert. But Lilith did. At seventeen. Achieving what most nobles never would in a lifetime.
Of course, Maur wasn’t praising that dumb dog. He meant this: Lilith might be stubborn, thick-headed, and absurdly serious about everything—but she was undeniably the strongest fighter here.
Mavis’s true form—those overwhelming tentacles—seemed resistant to low-level magic. Maur’s fire spells hadn’t even scratched them; they’d fizzled out pathetically. If she insisted on dragging him back to the duke’s manor as a “guest” today? No chance of resisting her exposed form. He was a frail mage! Without working magic, he was helpless.
His attendant was also a mage—lower level, shyer. A commoner’s genius, sure, but only Lv2. Utterly useless right now.
“Maur, what are you doing?” Mavis asked, face crumpled in heartbreak. “Didn’t we promise to be best friends? To visit the duke’s manor together?”
There was never any agreement!
Mavis was faking it again. Maur knew: if Lv4 Lilith weren’t watching, Mavis wouldn’t be feigning sorrow or speaking so sweetly. She’d be laughing arrogantly, unleashing her tentacles to drag him—and his witness—back. The attendant might just be locked up. But Maur? Tied up. *Things* would happen.
He saw right through this monstrous woman.
“Who’d be friends with a monster like you!”
Pressed behind Lilith, Maur peeked out half his face. “You bastard! Just wait! For everything you’ve done—I *will* get revenge!”
He yanked Lilith’s tail and pulled her toward the exit. Desperate to reach the safety of Violet County Manor, his grip tightened.
“Lilith, you dumb dog! Stop spacing out! Move!”
*Poof!* Lilith’s tail fluffed up. Ears shot straight. Face twisted. *Smack!* She swatted his hand away, then hoisted him by the collar with one hand.
“Hah?! Maur, you bastard! Wanna get sliced? Keep your hands off my tail!”
Her cheeks burned crimson—fuming.
“You’re the bastard! You’re wrecking my suit!” Maur shot back.
If this tore, he’d have nothing left to wear. Did she want him stumbling out of House Decora disheveled? Tomorrow, wild rumors would flood every alley of the Royal Capital.
…No way! He wasn’t a monkey for entertainment!
“Let go, dumb dog!”
Lilith huffed, set him down. Face still flushed, eyes fixed on his crumpled collar.
“Touch my tail again… and I’ll beat you so bad you won’t leave bed for a month.”
Weird. Why so red?
Maur brushed it off.
“Hah! A month in bed?” Feeling mocked, he yelled, “Try it! I’m not scared!”
Scared? Please. He’d just hide. As long as that dumb dog couldn’t find him—zero fear!
Coward? Never. He was a mage! Mages cast elegantly from range. Not brawling with warriors.
And it was just a tail tug. Big deal.
“The whole Somaria Empire isn’t short on tails! So what?” He spun. “Attendant! Come here!”
“Y-yes! Lord Maur!”
The fox girl scurried over.
Chin high, Maur grabbed her fluffy red tail—tested a tug, stroked base to tip, tip to base.
“Ah… mm… L-Lord Maur…”
Soft, breathy sounds escaped her; face flushed deep red.
He dropped his hand, shot Lilith’s silver tail a sneer. “See? Plenty of tails to tug or pet. I don’t even want yours.”
“Yours is stiff. Not half as nice as hers.”
*Whoosh—*
A blade of sword energy sliced past Maur’s hair, gouging the stone floor of House Decora into splinters.
If aimed at flesh? Instant cleaving.
Maur stared.
Lilith’s sword gleamed cold.
Her eyes burned with inexplicable fury.
“Maur,” she hissed. “What did you just say about my tail?”
Maur: “….”
Th-threat! She was threatening him!
Just ’cause she’s Lv4, thinks she’s untouchable? Thinks he’ll bow to her tyranny?
Never.
“The one in the wrong is *you*, dumb dog!” he argued fiercely. “You stood there like a statue! Was I supposed to grab your *hand*?!”
Opposite genders… that’d be the normal thing to…
“OF COURSE GRAB MY HAND!” Lilith roared—then froze, face exploding crimson. “Y-you! Don’t get ideas! I mean… compared to tails… h-holding hands is… better!”
“Y-yes! Exactly! That’s it!”
