My eyes lit up so fast I’m pretty sure they could’ve qualified as low-grade energy stones themselves.

This had to be them. The energy stones. My glorious, shiny, financially liberating babies.

"—pen... Open! Agatha! Open!" I barked—well, not barked, because I have dignity—but I definitely did an excited little circle around the box like an over-caffeinated house pet who just heard the word treat.

Agatha, who had the patience of a saint and the reflexes of a seasoned assassin, reached into her apron and pulled out a knife from absolutely nowhere.

I blinked. ’Where did she get that?’

Does she keep weapons in her apron pockets? Is there a hidden armory stitched into her uniform? Is there a spatial storage enchantment in there? Should I be concerned?

Before I could spiral into that mystery, she sliced the tape cleanly down the center. Not even a dramatic rip—just one smooth, professional motion.

The lid creaked open as I practically shoved my face inside.

There they were.

Ten low-grade energy stones.

I stretched out both my paws and carefully scooped them out one by one. Despite my excitement, I handled them with the delicacy of someone transferring newborn chicks.

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

I lined them up on the table like proud little soldiers reporting for duty.

Ten glowing opportunities.

I stared at them with the intensity of a villain in the final act. Ideas began sprinting through my brain at full speed.

Once the mechanical arm is finished...

Oh ho ho.

I could integrate these stones into the power core. A stable energy source means smoother output. Smoother output means better performance. Better performance means higher demand.

Higher demand means—

Money.

Delicious, shiny, secret money.

I could even reinvest the profits. Buy higher-grade stones and improve the designs.

I slowly turned my head toward Agatha, my eyes sparkling with barely restrained ambition.

I expected suspicion, questions, concerns or at least one cautious, "Miss, are you planning something illegal?"

Instead, she simply stood there, hands folded neatly in front of her apron, looking at me with the calm expression of someone who has already accepted that the lady she serves is slightly unhinged.

"You seem pleased, Miss Blanca," she said politely.

Pleased?

PLEased?

Agatha, I am five seconds away from being the future monopolist of carved energy stones!

I looked down at the unpolished energy stones again. Their faint glow flickered against the tabletop. Then I looked at her. Then back at the stones.

My brain shifted gears.

I grabbed the small writing board and quickly scribbled on it. "Do you have your own energy stone?"

She didn’t hesitate. "Yes, Miss."

I tilted my head and wrote again. "Then you don’t suffer Hysteria like Soren?"

Her expression softened just a little. "I do, but it isn’t much like what Master experiences."

I tapped the chalk against the board thoughtfully before writing again. "And why’s that?"

Agatha folded her hands behind her back as if she were about to give a lecture. "The more powerful your beast is, the harder it is to control your Hysteria," she explained calmly. "That’s why Master Soren replaces his energy stone frequently. It either breaks under the strain or becomes ineffective."

Ah.

So stronger beast equals stronger mental instability.

Wonderful.

I made a mental note: If I ever evolve into some god-tier apex creature, I should also invest in bulk energy stones.

"How does suffering from Hysteria feel?" I wrote.

Agatha didn’t even flinch. Either she was used to these questions, or she had accepted that her lady’s brain worked in zigzags.

"There are two common experiences," she began. "One is shrinking back into one’s young beast form. The other is losing one’s mind and wreaking havoc unintentionally."

I blinked. ’Unintentionally?’

That word did not comfort me.

She continued, "If you have an energy stone, however, the symptoms are mild—headaches, mood swings, or incomplete human form."

I quickly scribbled again. "Then what are you experiencing right now?"

She answered without embarrassment. "Incomplete human form, Miss Blanca."

And then—

She calmly lifted one sandal.

I leaned forward.

Instead of a normal human foot, what greeted my eyes was an anisodactyl bird foot—three toes forward, one toe back, elegant yet absolutely not something you’d see in a shoe catalog.

I stared.

She stood there like she had just shown me a slightly chipped nail.

I nodded slowly. Very normal. Perfectly ordinary day.

I grabbed the board again and scribbled with renewed intensity. "Let me see your energy stone."

Agatha didn’t question it. She simply reached up and pulled a thin necklace from beneath her uniform. "Here, Miss."

She held it out to me with both hands.

I took it.

And immediately regretted having functioning eyesight.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

This was even worse than Soren’s.

The surface was cloudy, like someone had tried to polish it with a sock. Fine cracks webbed through the center. The glow was unstable, flickering in uneven pulses, like a lightbulb contemplating retirement.

This thing wasn’t stabilizing anything.

It was barely hanging on to its job.

My eye twitched.

For one brief, horrifying second, I imagined marching to the balcony and throwing it as far as physically possible. Let it sail into the horizon. Let it contemplate its life choices mid-air.

Be free.

But I stopped myself.

Because if I smashed it, Agatha might collapse.

And that would be... inconvenient.

With visible restraint, I handed it back before my self-control expired.

She accepted it calmly and tucked it away again, unaware that her necklace had just narrowly avoided execution.

I turned back to the board.

There was only one logical solution.

Only one.

If beastmen were going to live normally—if they were going to stop suffering from cracked, underpowered, embarrassing excuses of energy stones—

Then I would make perfect ones.

Flawless cores. Stable output. Proper channeling. Reinforced matrices. No cracks. No flickering. No "oops I accidentally turned into a feral toddler."

I wrote again.

"Change to your beast form."

There was the faintest hitch in her composure. "W–Why, Miss Blanca?"

Finally. A reaction.

I grinned and scribbled enthusiastically:

"Because you’ll be my model."

Agatha blinked. "My... model?"

I nodded vigorously, chalk nearly snapping from enthusiasm.

She hesitated for only a breath. "A–As you wish, Miss."

She stepped back and closed her eyes.

The air shifted.

Feathers rippled across her skin like ink spreading through water. Her limbs shortened and reshaped. Bones subtly realigned with faint, soft cracks that sounded far too organic for comfort. Wings unfurled where arms had been.

In seconds, she stood before me in her beast form.

A diamond dove.

’...Wait.’ I tilted my head. ’Is this how a diamond dove looks like?’

Because this was not the plump, little bird I had imagined.

Her feathers were a soft silvery-gray, but white patches broke across her wings and chest in irregular patterns. Her eyes were framed by a delicate ring. Tiny white speckles dotted her wings like someone had flicked paint across them.

So elegant looking.

Agatha—now dove—tilted her head as if reading my thoughts. "I am a pied diamond dove, Miss."

Ahhh, that explains the dramatic patchwork.

I crouched down to her level, circling her slowly

She stayed perfectly still, wings tucked neatly.

I crouched down to eye level.

"Hold still," I muttered reflexively, even though she had not moved at all.

I gently lifted one wing.

The feather layering was fascinating—primary feathers long and tapered, secondary feathers shorter and structured. The bone alignment beneath felt light but resilient. I traced the joint carefully with my gaze, mapping angles in my head.

I gently turned her around.

Inspected tail feather symmetry.

Tapped lightly against her side to gauge density.

She endured it with the patience of someone who had definitely not expected to be physically evaluated like luxury poultry.

I crouched in front of her, face dangerously close to her tiny beak.

Our noses—well, my nose and her beak—were approximately one dramatic inhale away from colliding.

"You," I declared with the gravity of someone announcing a royal decree, "are going to help me revolutionize beast society."

She blinked.

From her perspective, I probably just went, "Nyang. Nyang nyang nyang."

Her head tilted slightly to the left. "...As you wish, my lady."

Even in dove form, she sounded resigned.

I straightened dramatically, spun around, and grabbed the board again. Chalk dust flew like I was summoning inspiration from the heavens.

My handwriting devolved halfway into frantic lines that only future-genius-me would understand.

After I marked the important points—by which I mean I circled them aggressively three times—I turned back to Agatha. "Ch-Change, Agatha."

She tilted her head. "You want me to transform back now?"

I nodded and hopped off toward the table where the energy stones sat in their neat little line of underwhelming glory.

My paws twitched, itching to create another masterpiece.

I reached toward the stones but froze when I remembered something.

Right.

I don’t have the mechanical arm yet. My grand plan required tools and yet I currently possessed...

Two paws.

And ambition.

I slowly retracted my hands and huffed dramatically. ’What should I do now?’

I dragged myself to the sofa and plopped face-first into it. My tail swayed lazily in the air while I contemplated the tragic injustice of lacking robotic appendages.