— KONRAD —
All day long, Konrad couldn't stop thinking about how he was supposed to talk to Marcel about his mother.
The thought gnawed at him constantly, and the presence of that wolf girl in the house unsettled him deeply.
Why is she here?
And what does she have to do with my mother?
Questions without answers.
That evening, his mother called everyone to dinner. Marcel arrived at the very last minute.
Konrad hurried down the stairs into the kitchen and sat at the dining table. His little sister Larissa was already there, while the slave served the food.
From upstairs, Konrad could hear the shower running. Marcel was probably getting ready and changing.
He sat silently, waiting for the rest of the family.
"Did you hear?" Larissa broke the silence.
She was twelve years old. "We have a new slave in the house! Apparently she still hasn't accepted that she's one yet." She snickered into her narrow hand.
Larissa treated beastfolk harshly—far harsher than even Konrad thought appropriate.
"I don't know if she's a slave…" Konrad replied thoughtfully. Should he tell her what he had seen? "But I think Marcel will explain."
Larissa nodded.
A few minutes passed before Marcel appeared, now wearing a simple T-shirt and sweatpants.
"Is your mother not here yet?" he asked as he approached.
"No," Larissa replied, fiddling with her cutlery.
"Honey!" Marcel called out through the house. "Where are you? The kids are hungry!"
"Darling," his wife answered softly from upstairs. "Should I bring Kubato with me?"
"Yes. She should eat." Marcel sat down, visibly impatient.
Kubato?
Is that… the child's name?
Footsteps descended the stairs. Konrad's mother appeared, holding the hand of the wolf girl, who followed her hesitantly.
"Come, sit with us," Marcel invited.
Konrad and Larissa endured the sight in silence. Not even the slave ate at the table—and now this child was sitting with them. No.
This beastfolk.
"Let's eat," Marcel said, starting. Kubato sat between him and his wife, staring at her empty plate.
"Eat, Kubato," Margarita said gently, placing some of the prepared fish onto her plate.
The atmosphere was tense. No one dared to speak. Didn't Marcel notice?
Why… is a beastfolk sitting at our table?
The child slowly reached for the cutlery,awkwardly tasting the food Margarita had prepared. Her cheeks were still stained with dried tears, her eyes dull with exhaustion.
She had clearly been through a lot.
Finally, Konrad gathered his courage.
"Marcel… I mean, Father… who is she?"
Marcel chewed, then looked up, surprised Konrad even had to ask.
"You don't know? That's Kubato. She's the daughter of my ex-wife."
"What?!" Larissa burst out. "You were married to a beastfolk?!"
Marcel remained calm—either stressed or simply unfazed.
"No. She was human."
"Was?" Konrad asked sharply.
Marcel paused. "Yes. She died in an accident this morning."
Kubato trembled at the mention.
"Does it taste good?" Margarita whispered softly, wiping sauce from the girl's lips.
That was when something inside Konrad snapped.
"Father!" he shouted, standing up and slamming his hand on the table. "Why is a beastfolk sitting with us?!"
Marcel looked at him calmly while chewing.
"Because she is my stepdaughter."
He was serious. Honest. That was how Marcel always was. Honest. Direct. No compromises.
But this… this was new.
"Father… aren't beastfolk our enemies?"
Kubato shrank into herself, no longer looking at the food—only into the void.
"Aren't they different from us humans?" Konrad continued. "You know what the Church teaches! Why is she here?!"
Marcel met his gaze steadily. There was no doubt in his eyes—only certainty.
"Father… should I be worried?" Konrad asked cautiously.
Marcel swallowed his bite of fish.
"Konrad. What is my profession?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Answer it."
"You're… a manager of a large company…"
"Correct. And what do I do there?"
Konrad hesitated.
"You trade goods abroad!" Larissa answered proudly.
"Exactly. And what kind of goods?"
"What is this?" Konrad asked skeptically. "Are you testing me? I just want to know what this child has to do with you!"
Silence fell.
"Konrad," Marcel said quietly, "have you ever seen a free beastfolk?"
Konrad frowned.
"No, but—"
"Have you," Marcel interrupted sharply, "ever killed a beastfolk?"
The tension thickened.
"N-No," Konrad admitted.
"I have," Marcel said. "Years ago. Do you know what their blood looks like? It's red. Just like ours. And do you know what else? When I killed one, their family cried. They mourned. They suffered. And do you know how I felt?"
The air was suffocating.
"Like a murderer."
Konrad sank back into his chair.
"I can't believe you," he said quietly.
"Beastfolk are monsters!" Larissa snapped.
Kubato whimpered, curling up on her chair.
"I want to go home…"
She's crying.
She's suffering.
Are beastfolk really like us?
"Kubato," Marcel continued calmly, ignoring Larissa, "is the child of my ex-wife. Shortly after we married, she was raped by a beastfolk. He was killed immediately. We hoped the child would be mine… but Kubato was born."
Konrad swallowed.
"Beastfolk are cursed," Larissa muttered—then began choking on a fishbone.
Margarita took her away into the kitchen.
"My father hid Kubato and took care of her," Marcel continued. "Until this morning. He died. Her mother tried to kill Kubato… and died herself."
Kubato whimpered again at the mention of her grandfather.
For the first time, Konrad felt something unfamiliar.
Pity.
She was unwanted.
Her mother tried to kill her.
The grandfather she loved was dead.
What if… she really is like us?
"Think, Konrad," Marcel said, lifting the child and heading upstairs. "Not everything you're taught is true."
Konrad sat there, appetite gone.
The next day, Konrad spent recess with the boys—Tim, Milo, and Nestor—beneath a large oak tree.
He hadn't slept all night.
"Konni," Milo said through mouthfuls of bread, "what's wrong with you today?"
"If…" Konrad began slowly, "everything you believe is a lie… what's the truth then?"
They burst out laughing.
"Thinking too much again?" Nestor teased.
"Has Teacher Rocher filled your head with nonsense?" Tim laughed.
Konrad forced a smile.
"It's nothing. Just… questions."
"Thinking is the Leader's job," Milo said. "The people act."
"…What if beastfolk have feelings like we do?"
"What?"
"Did your slave cry?"
"No," Konrad lied. "But… a new slave appeared. She's a child."
"That's dangerous," Milo said.
"Beastfolk children are manipulators," Tim added. "They twist human emotions."
Konrad's stomach sank.
That was exactly what was happening.
"What should I do?"
Nestor looked at him seriously.
"You have to kill her."
"…Kill her?"
"If that's hard," Milo suggested, "take her into the forest. She'll disappear."
A plan formed.
And Konrad—trapped between fear, loyalty, and indoctrination—did not say no.