CIBYSYH | Ch 03

― slap, slap-slap.

‘…What’s that sound?’

The man was drying his hair with a towel when he heard strange little splashing noises.

At first, he thought it was just water dripping in the bath.

But when he really listened… they were tiny footsteps.

His cold eyes flicked toward the dagger in the drawer.

He snatched it up and spun around—

…but no one was there.

Not on the ceiling, not to the side. Nothing.

Just as he frowned in suspicion, he felt a tickling breeze at his feet.

‘Below?’

He looked down.

And there, right by his toes, was a crow pacing back and forth.

So that’s why it had been noisy outside earlier.

The bird had woken up and gotten out.

His sharp eyes softened a little.

― slap-slap.

But… was this crow alright?

Its beak gaped open as it flopped around awkwardly. Didn’t look healthy at all.

‘Did it hit its head?’

He crouched to check.

And suddenly, the crow hopped right onto his hand!

He stiffened, startled, as the bird climbed like a rock climber, digging sharp claws into his tough skin.

Finally, it perched triumphantly on his broad shoulders—

even turning a circle before plopping down to sit.

“…”

It took him a long moment to process what had just happened.

Meanwhile, Isadora was thrilled.

Crows loved trees, and she was no exception.

But she was also half-human, so she had very picky standards for a “good tree.”

This one was tall, thick, broad… and warm.

A rare, perfect tree.

[I could build a nest here!]

“Caw!”

The man’s ears rang sharply.

For a second, all other sounds seemed far away.

He rubbed his buzzing ear absentmindedly.

Some servants had wanted to approach while she’d been rampaging, but they hadn’t dared.

Not because the crow was scary—but because she was so loud.

That screech had blasted right into their eardrums.

Still, the Duke didn’t swat her away.

“You seem to be doing better.”

His low, rumbling voice vibrated through her, making her feathers prickle.

She suddenly realized—

She’d just jumped onto a stranger’s shoulder without permission.

She turned her head to see who it was.

Dark blue hair. Eyes like deep lakes. Sharp, defined features.

Wait. That face—

[Huh? Huh?! Leonard Caribou? The Black Duke himself?!]

The Duke left the bath and stepped into the soap-slicked hallway, falling silent.

The servants scrubbing the floor paled.

They’d wanted to clean up the mess before the Duke saw it—too late now.

The head maid rushed over, bowing deeply.

“M-my lord, forgive us!”

“What happened here?”

“The crow… woke up and caused all this commotion…”

Isadora just blinked innocently in the Duke’s hand.

He carried her into a sitting room and dropped onto a sofa.

A gust of wind sent her feathers floating everywhere.

Even she thought the room looked horribly messy.

‘I’m just a weak, harmless little animal. An innocent crow. That’s all.’

She finished her self-brainwashing and met the Duke’s icy eyes with the most pitiful look she could muster.

But pity wasn’t working.

His expression said her presence was deeply irritating.

He grabbed both her wings and pulled them open.

She squawked in protest.

[Hey! You can’t treat animals like this!]

“Caw! Caw!”

“Hold still.”

[Oh no, I’m dying! Poor crow, so cruelly treated…]

She stopped faking pain once she realized he wasn’t hurting her.

He was just checking the bandages on her injured wing.

His hand probed gently, making sure no water had seeped into the wound.

Once he was satisfied, he set her down.

“You’re still too weak to fly, but you’ve got plenty of energy.”

He clicked his tongue between sculpted lips.

That face—Isadora knew it well.

She’d once plastered it across the front page of the Black Bird Daily.

That issue had broken every sales record.

The moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d gone into a frenzy writing an over-the-top piece:

<A face like a grey wolf, a body like a stag.>

<The Black Duke Leonard Caribou is beautiful… from a distance.>

<Many women tried to claim him, but each one fled in despair. Three broken engagements already!>

<Some even speculate he prefers men, but the Duke’s ruthlessness shows no gender bias…>

It had sprawled across three whole pages—her magnum opus.

Of course, it had reached the Duke himself.

His only comment had been:

“She’s a woman with a long tongue.”

His butler had nearly fainted.

“Sh-shall I cut out her tongue, my lord?”

“…What did you just say?”

“Ah! Forgive me! I’ll cut off her hands at once!”

“Leave it.”

“Then… y-you mean… her legs…?”

“…”

The butler was fired soon after.

Dragged out of the castle, he had shouted that he finally understood—

The Duke didn’t want her tongue, hands, or legs.

He wanted her head.

“Are you insane?! Who dares provoke the Black Duke?!” Edgar had screamed, smacking Isadora when he heard.

She’d been put under house arrest for a while, just in case soldiers came knocking.

But nothing had happened.

The Duke’s life was always filled with storms.

Punishing one cheeky journalist probably wasn’t worth his time back then.

‘If this is the Duke’s domain, escaping in this condition is impossible.’

Tremière Duchy lay in the harsh northern mountains.

Her own home, Servio Territory, was three days’ nonstop flight away—even at full strength.

And here, winters dropped to -40 degrees.

Leaving the castle would mean freezing to death.

‘Guess I’m stuck here until my wing heals.’

She wasn’t worried he’d throw her out.

Her six years of experience as a reporter had sharpened her instincts.

She knew who she could push and who she couldn’t.

‘Edgar, I’ll come back later. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me. Just wait—this year, the Black Bird Daily will shine brighter than ever!’

“Buy a new cage. Until its wing heals, keep it locked—”

— Flap!

The crow suddenly launched forward, wings brushing his face.

She scrambled up his arm and landed back on his shoulder, even bumping her beak against his cheek in the process.

“…!”

The unflappable Duke actually widened his eyes.

The servants gasped, covering their mouths.

Everyone stared at the crow.

Isadora tried to excuse herself.

[I can’t fly right now, so I’ll just borrow your shoulder, Duke!]

“Caw!”

“….”

His brow twitched. But once again, he didn’t swat her away.

She grinned—well, as much as a crow could—at him, rubbing his sore ear.

‘Perfect. I’ll turn everything about you into gossip.’

Whether he liked women or not.

How he worked.

What weaknesses did he have?

[I’ll dig up every last detail!]

“Caw, caw, caw!”

“Are crows always this noisy?” the Duke muttered, wincing at the ringing in his ear.

That night, his personal physician was summoned in a rush.

The doctor, still out of breath, asked anxiously, “My lord, what’s wrong?”

“My ear doesn’t work.”

“Eh? Pardon?”

“My right ear. I can’t hear out of it.”

Only then did the doctor notice the black crow perched on the Duke’s right shoulder.

The diagnosis: temporary hearing loss from constant loud noise.