The Duke's Killer Rabbit [BL]

Across from them, the guest cleared his throat gently and lifted his teacup again.

He was a man with a composed and polished look, around Clint's age perhaps in his twenties with soft black hair tied loosely at the back and a long robe of sky blue trimmed with silver.

He stood at about 5'9" ft, noticeably shorter than the Duke, whose tall figure reached 6'1", making the difference in their presence even more clear when they stood side by side.

"My apologies for disturbing your afternoon, Your Grace," the man said, voice polite but not cold.

The Duke only nodded, never one for wasting words.

"I simply wished to check on the Bunny's condition… again," the man added, this time looking directly at Clint, though not unkindly.

"He is… fascinating."

Clint paused his reading, 'We're about the same height,' He thought casually, giving the man a quick once-over. 

The man smiled a little and placed a hand to his chest. "Ah, forgive me. You must be curious who I am… the man who's been checking on you for three days now."

He gave a small chuckle, not unkind. "I never properly introduced myself. I am Healer Elric Dane, senior representative of the Wizard Tower's Restoration Division."

Elric looked down at Clint with a curious expression. "I have treated many beasts and animals… but never one with such strange behavior."

Clint, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, turned a page and kept reading.

The Duke finally spoke again, voice steady. "I've allowed you to examine him, Elric, but nothing harmful."

"Of course, Duke Darius," Elric said with a nod. "Only observation."

Elric's gaze stayed fixed on the small black bunny resting on the Duke's lap, his tone growing more formal as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves and shifted in his seat. 

"As per your request, I have conducted several gentle observations over the past three days," he began, speaking with care.

"And now I can give you a proper report, Your Grace."

He nodded respectfully to the Duke, then glanced again at Clint with narrowed eyes, as if still trying to understand something strange hidden beneath the surface.

"This bunny… is not connected to any known magical creature bloodline. I've checked all known beast-type classifications and compared its mana to the Arcane Records held in the Tower," he said, hands calmly resting on his knees. 

"Physically and magically, it is identical to a completely normal, non-magical black Bunny. No traces of beast ancestry, no mana core, no elemental affinity."

The Duke's golden eyes lowered to the bunny, who was still flipping through the small book like he understood every word.

Elric gave a small nod and added, "Yes, Duke. This bunny is by all tests and known standards a normal animal."

Then the Duke spoke, "This bunny drank some of my blood… days ago."

Elric's eyes widened slightly, lips parting. "Your Grace-"

"If it is truly normal," the Duke continued, eyes now locked on the bunny, "it should not have survived."

"You are correct," Elric replied, his tone shifting into full seriousness as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

"Which is why I now believe… that this creature is, in fact, under a curse."

The Duke's gaze turned to him sharply.

Elric reached into his robes and brought out a small bottle clear and filled with shimmering silver liquid that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat.

He placed it carefully on the table.

"This," Elric explained, "is a curse tracker. I applied a trace to him yesterday while you were away. At first, I found nothing. But earlier today, after another reading—"

He paused.

"…I discovered that he carries a mark of a curse, one I've never seen before. Deeply hidden. And active."

Elric looked at the Duke again. "I am still trying to determine what kind of curse it is, and more importantly why it didn't kill him when exposed to your blood."

Elric then slowly stood and straightened the folds of his robe, casting a glance once more toward the small black bunny who sat unusually still, the open book still resting beneath his tiny paws.

"I would like to speak with you privately, Your Grace," Elric said carefully, voice low but respectful.

The Duke did not question him.

Without a word, he gently lifted the bunny from his lap and set him on the table beside the now half-finished tea and the small book.

The Duke stood, and the two men walked several steps away, toward the tall glass windows overlooking the quiet eastern courtyard, where the wind gently stirred the curtain, letting soft sunlight filter through.

Clint's ears twitched sharply.

He could hear them, faintly, if he focused. He tilted his head slightly toward them as he leaned into the book, pretending to read.

"There is a possibility," Elric said in a hushed voice, "that he can understand us fully."

The two men took another few steps, and their voices became too faint for Clint to make out.

He turned his eyes back down to the open book But instead of worrying more, Clint narrowed his eyes and read.

The book the Duke had given him was more than just a storybook. Its second half was filled with simplified explanations of the world, this world.

 'Good. Time to learn more about this crazy place.'

His eyes dropped to the page, and he read slowly.

"So This kingdom is called Valedor

"Kingdom of Valedor, a powerful land known for its ancient families, magical traditions, and unending wars of politics and blood. The kingdom is divided into great houses, ruled by noble bloodlines."

Clint frowned slightly.

"In Valedor, power comes in two main forms: Magic and Blood.

Magic is the domain of the Wizards. They are humans who can control mana through long years of study and strict discipline. Magic is not used with willpower alone—it requires a focus, usually a wand. Wizards are taught in magical towers, trained to follow laws, and ranked by their mastery of spellcraft."

'That part made sense—just like in games or books.' He thought.

But the next section made him pause.

"The second kind of power belongs to the Beastbloods ancient bloodlines blessed by the spirits of mighty creatures. These people are born with the essence of beasts flowing through their veins.

Some grow claws. Some have scales. Others move faster, sense deeper, strike harder.

But true transformation changing fully into a beast form is almost unheard of. It requires perfect mastery of one's instincts, blood, and mana. Even among the strongest, few ever achieve it."

Clint's ears lowered as he kept reading.

"Among all the Beastblood lines, one family sits at the top—the Dragonbloods. Said to descend from the dragons of the old world, they are nearly untouchable.

Their strength, resistance, and presence alone can dominate a room. Even without spells, they carry power in their voice, their gaze, their walk.

Duke Darius Valen Beaumont is the current head of this line. Though young, he has already crushed rebellions, destroyed traitors, and protected the borders of Valedor.

His name alone brings fear across kingdoms. He is known as the Silent Silver Dragon, a noble whose will is law, and whose wrath is final."