Mirabelle sat in her mother’s study opposite the enormous, heavy desk.

Her legs were stretched out, her arms stubbornly folded across her chest.

The very image of a sulking daughter.

Morning light filtered through the tall windows, illuminating countless shelves filled with leather-bound ledgers and maps.

The faint scent of ink, old parchment, beeswax, and polished wood lingered in the room.

Somewhere a grandfather clock ticked patiently, measuring Mirabelle’s growing impatience one second at a time.

Her mother sat behind the desk, deliberately making her wait.

She was still completely absorbed in the document she was reading.

Every now and then she turned a page with practiced elegance.

Not hurried.

Not slow.

Exactly fast enough to remind Mirabelle who was currently in control.

’Probably another letter from the High Duchess,’ Mirabelle mused as she watched her mother through narrowed eyes.

It was fascinating how slowly Beastmen aged.

She couldn’t accurately guess her mother’s age. She barely looked older than forty.

Yet Mirabelle knew from her memories that she was much older.

The thought that she herself might one day live far longer than she had ever imagined possible in her previous life felt surreal.

Then another realization struck her.

She had no idea how old her partners actually were. She had simply assumed they were around her age.

After all, none of them looked older than thirty. But if her mother looked like this while being more than twice that age...

Then...

Mirabelle accidentally inhaled at the wrong moment and burst into a coughing fit.

Her mother looked up over the edge of the document. Without saying a word, she set it aside.

She reached for a crystal decanter and the matching glasses waiting at the corner of the desk before pouring Mirabelle a drink.

Amber liquid splashed softly into the crystal glass.

The faint aroma of herbs and honey rose immediately.

Cool condensation formed against the polished surface.

Still struggling for air, Mirabelle grabbed the glass and drank greedily, hoping to suppress the coughing.

Finally, her lungs filled once more with the woody scent of the study.

"You argued with Lucien?"

Her mother’s question almost triggered another coughing fit.

How did she already know?

Although...

She had probably been rather loud.

"If you already know that, then you also know why."

Her tail thumped once against the chair.

Her mother let out an amused snort.

Then she leaned back in her large armchair and mirrored her daughter by crossing her own arms.

"Is a mother not allowed to make arrangements for her daughter?"

"Is a daughter not allowed to make her own decisions?"

Mirabelle shot back immediately.

"Decisions like refusing to eat for an entire week?"

The Duchess raised a single eyebrow.

Okay. That one landed.

But it was unfair!

’That was the other Mirabelle!’

She mentally stomped her foot.

Out loud, she said:

"Can’t fate simply decide who I meet?"

"Fate?" Her mother gave a quiet laugh.

"Do you honestly believe you would’ve even looked at Lucien if he hadn’t taken the initiative?"

She shook her head.

"You avoided making any decision regarding the Zasar males for as long as possible."

The Duchess straightened again, leaned slightly forward, and rested one elbow on the desk.

"And then you suddenly decide to take all of them?" She sighed. "I should’ve thrown three more at you."

The last sentence was muttered mostly to herself.

Mirabelle immediately sat up straighter.

"You should be happy I’m securing powerful males for the territory."

Why did this feel like an argument?

"I am." The Duchess nodded. "But why did it take you so long to finally accept responsibility?"

Mirabelle frowned. She wasn’t entirely sure where her mother was going with this.

"I am taking responsibility now."

"Wonderful."

For one dangerous heartbeat, the room became unnaturally quiet.

Even the ticking clock seemed silent far to long.

Without warning, the Duchess slammed her palm against the wooden desk.

TWACK!

The sharp crack echoed through the room. This time, Mirabelle genuinely flinched.

"Then you can take over the duchy."

’Excuse me?!’

DING!

[Main Quest

The Rise of Luchsenstein

"Land may be inherited.

A legacy never is."

Objective:

Develop the Territory of Luchsenstein into a prosperous and enduring duchy.

Current Progress: 6%

Reward: ???

Penalty: ???]

DING!

[Main Quest - Stage I

Claim Your Foundation

"No dynasty can flourish without land to call its own."

Objective:

Officially inherit the Duchy of Luchsenstein.

Reward: +500,000 Development Points

Penalty:

Permanent separation of host and Beastbody.

Status: Not started]

The Main Quest!

Wait.

What?

Mirabelle blinked the blue windows away and stared at her new mother with her mouth hanging open.

’She set me up.

Again!’

How had she let herself be manipulated by her mother so effortlessly? She had done exactly what the Duchess had expected.

Walked straight into her trap.

And thanks to the system and its quest...

She couldn’t even say no.

She had somehow ended up with her own territory completely by accident.

Like a virgin getting pregnant.

Unexpected.

And entirely unprepared.

Suddenly, it felt as though the room itself were pressing in around her.

The towering bookshelves suddenly seemed much taller.

The heavy curtains darker.

Even the Duchess’s enormous desk looked less like furniture and more like a fortress separating childhood from adulthood.

"You can’t just hand me the duchy," she gasped. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

She tightened her grip around the armrests without even noticing.

Her mother wore a thoroughly self-satisfied smile.

"Of course I can." She gestured around the room. "As you can clearly see."

"But—"

The Duchess waved a dismissive hand, batting away every argument before Mirabelle could even make it.

"My mother did exactly the same thing to me."

She leaned back comfortably.

"I’ve waited long enough for you to finally pull yourself together and start thinking about the duchy."

Despite her words, warmth lingered in her eyes.

She looked less like a ruler issuing an order...

...and more like a mother finally watching her daughter grow up.

In the meantime Mirabelle watched her golden-spoon life fly away before her very eyes. She could practically hear it.

The sound of carefree days shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

So she tried one last time.

"But I have absolutely no idea how to—"

Her mother interrupted again.

"Mirabelle." Her tone became firmer. "You’ve had private tutors preparing you for this for the past ten years."

She smiled.

"And your grandmother and I are still here."

Mirabelle cried internally.

’That was the other Mirabelle...’

Pebbles reappeared beside her.

"Host, stop pretending to be difficult." He folded two tentacles behind his back. "This is exactly what all of this has been about."

’Yeah, but I don’t want the responsibility yet!’

Mirabelle protested desperately.

’What about...

My honeymoon?

Huh?!

Don’t I deserve a little break first?’

"The concept of a honeymoon does not exist in the Beast World."

Mirabelle mentally bit down on the collar of her shirt to stop herself from screaming and throwing a full-blown tantrum like a small child.

The Stage I quest window appeared again.

This time, however, there were only two buttons beneath it.

[Accept]

[Accept]

"..."

Mirabelle searched the room for any possible escape.

Naturally...

She found none.

With a defeated sigh, she finally asked,

"...Fine.

So how exactly does this work?"

Before her eyes, the first [Accept] pressed itself.

Then all the windows disappeared.

The room felt strangely quiet.

Mirabelle looked at her mother. Her mother looked back.

One smiled.

The other had just inherited an entire duchy.

"We should make everything official before the Royal Hunting Party."

Her mother immediately shifted into work mode.

She pulled a large map of Bergheim across the desk and placed a leather-bound calendar beside it.

The parchment crackled softly beneath her fingers.

For the first time, Mirabelle realized they were nearing the end of summer.

It was the eighth month of the year.

Each month consisted of thirty days, divided into six weeks of five days each.

Just like on Earth, a year had twelve months.

This world really was astonishingly familiar.

The Duchess reached for a brass instrument that resembled a partially unfolded compass. Tiny engraved rings rotated with quiet metallic clicks as she aligned it over Castle Luchsenstein.

It was a travel calculator used to estimate how far a Beast male could cover in a single day.

"All right." Her eyes followed the route across forests, rivers, and mountain passes. "You’ll need roughly four to five days to reach this year’s hunting grounds."

Her finger traced the road across the map.

"That means we have another five days before you need to leave."

She made another small mark in the calendar.

"Your grandmother is already on her way here."

A brief pause.

"She should arrive the day after tomorrow."

’My grandmother?’

Mirabelle searched her memories.

Nothing.

Not a face.

Not a voice.

Not even a name.

Instead...

A powerful wave of panic surged up from somewhere deep inside her chest.

Her heartbeat stumbled. The hairs along her arms prickled.

The feeling wasn’t hers.

It belonged to the original Mirabelle.

Apparently...

She had been terrified of her grandmother.

Mirabelle just didn’t know why.

Mirabelle let out a long sigh.

’Yeah... this is going to end well.’