CIBYSYH | Ch 13

Episode 13 

Late at night.

Leonard looked around his bedroom.

The crow who used to insist on sleeping in the same room… wasn’t there.

“Knew it.”

She must’ve gone back to the annex.

He sat blankly in front of the roaring fireplace.

He’d gotten used to keeping a big fire going because the crow hated the cold.

“…I should put the fire out,” he muttered.

If she wasn’t here, no need to burn it so hot.

Just then—

Crackle! Tap.

He heard a very familiar little footstep.

The crow popped out of nowhere and stood blocking his path.

“So you didn’t go to the annex?”

“Caaawk!”

Her white eyes blazed with fighting spirit.

Leonard took a surprised step back—and the crow spread her wings with a dramatic snap.

“…What are you doing?”

Like he was hypnotized, Leonard sat down on the bed.

The crow started to… dance.

She spun in circles, shook her body, and twisted her neck in fancy little moves. It looked… really weird.

Leonard pressed his lips together.

If he so much as chuckled, he was sure the angry bird would stop dancing.

‘Can’t believe I’m doing a talent show in front of the Duke,’ Isadora thought bitterly.

But for the Black Bird Daily, she’d do anything.

Top newspaper, top newspaper…

She chanted her grand goal in her head, and her moves got lighter.

At the finale, after flailing adorably for a while, Isadora bounced onto the Duke’s foot.

He lifted her onto his knee.

[“A present for you, Your Grace.”]

She held out a long, thick feather in her beak.

[“It’s one of my wing feathers. You can make a good writing quill from it.”]

Finally, the Duke’s mouth tugged up into a real smile.

How else could he take it? She’d danced for him and even brought a gift.

“So that was a dance. Right?”

He laughed, realizing she was proud of herself.

But then his eyes sharpened.

“So… my sister saw this first, huh.”

At that, Isadora’s eyes narrowed too.

She’d even done the dance she swore she wouldn’t do, just to make peace— and he was back to sulking?!

[“You’re the only one who has my feather!”]

She cawed in protest, and he gently stroked her back.

[“What are you even moping about? You’re the only one I’m after. You’re my only story.”]

“You’re awfully chatty all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?”

[“You’re supposed to be sick of me! No one has ever liked being chased by me before!”]

Isadora talked and talked, but Leonard didn’t understand a word.

He just watched that tiny beak open and close.

A wish rose in his chest: What if I could really communicate with her?

If he could understand what this chatterbox was saying—and make her decide that his side was warmer than the cold outside…

“I’m naming you Canary.”

Out of nowhere, he picked a name.

[“Canary? I’m a crow.”]

“You’re always singing.”

So the cawing was “singing” now?

‘His hearing really is getting bad,’ she fretted.

He leaned in, handsome face filling her vision.

“Canary. How’s that?”

I’m a crow, she thought, eyes drooping half-lidded.

Leonard’s lips curved faintly.

The moment the grumpy little bird went quiet when he said the name, he took it as approval.

“Canary… so you understand your name.”

“….”

“Good girl.”

His face suddenly came closer—

Peck!

[“Huh?”]

Isadora’s beak fell open.

What did he just do?

Before she could process it, his lips brushed her pale-gray cheek again—careful on the feathers, hot and soft.

When he finally drew back, the bird was completely broken.

“Canary? Canary? Are you okay?”

He shook her gently, and her focus snapped back.

“……CAAAAW!!”

It was already over, but she launched herself at him anyway.

That day, she learned she could do a flying kick even in bird form.

At daybreak, Leonard went to the annex.

“I named her.”

Lania could only sigh.

“Canary? For that black bird?”

“She’s not black.”

He was firm.

Her cheeks and belly were gray, with a faint white stripe on her neck.

Even the “black” feathers shifted colors—under sunlight, they glowed purple, blue, even green.

“She gave me a feather, by the way,” he added—clearly trying to brag that he’d gotten a gift too.

So what, Lania’s eyes said. Leonard didn’t meet them.

He was busy fussing with the crow, who glared and paced up and down his arm, dodging his fingers.

Anyone could see it was unrequited love, but Lania didn’t say a thing.

Leonard taught “Canary” a little game.

He tossed a ruby he’d been idly flipping into the air, caught it in one hand, then held out both fists.

The crow’s eyes sparkled.

She tilted her head, then tapped the right fist.

Nothing. The ruby was on the left.

“Wrong again.”

[“Hey! I saw it go into your right hand!”]

“Caaawk!!”

Her annoyed cries leaked through the office door.

Leonard just kept smiling.

[“You cheated! You’re not a duke, you’re a gambler!”]

A normal animal would’ve fallen for a dumb street trick.

But half of Isadora was human—and the other half was a sharp-eyed crow that could spot prey from miles away.

[“Argh!”]

Frustrated, she grabbed the ruby and hurled it.

Con men used weird trick marbles to fool people—

[“This gem must be one of those!”]

She rolled it, pecked it, and examined it from every angle.

Nothing.

It was just a little ruby, throwing off needle-bright flashes of light.

“…Caw.”

Isadora got hypnotized by the sparkle and played with it for way too long.

Then she snapped out of it.

Wait. Why am I playing with the Duke?

Wasn’t she here to investigate him?

Why was she acting like a real animal?

Then she remembered something her mother once warned:

“For people like us, staying in one form too long causes problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“If you live only as a human, you might suddenly turn into a bird.”

Her mother had accidentally changed in front of their father and almost got found out; she’d threatened to peck him if he snitched, and thankfully, he’d kept the secret—or scholars would’ve dragged her away and dissected her.

[“Is there anywhere I can hide?”]

Isadora started scouting for a secret spot to turn human.

But in the bustling ducal manor, there wasn’t a safe place.

Worse—how was she going to shake the Duke?

She tried slipping into the maids’ bath, and he caught her instantly.

“No. If you get wet, your wound could reopen.”

[“Be honest. You just don’t want me out of your sight!”]

She couldn’t delay it any longer.

Another of Mom’s warnings rang in her ears:

“If you stay as a bird too long, sometimes you can’t turn back.”

Right—Edgar had freaked out when he heard that.

That’s why he mostly lived as a human.

“Remember this. At least one day a week, you must be human.”

If she’d had hands, Isadora would’ve smacked her forehead.

[“It’s already been over a month.”]

How could she forget something this important?

Like the saying about “eating crow” and forgetting—she’d really, really forgotten.

She counted the days and let out a hollow sigh.

[“When I woke up here, it had already been a week.”]

After a week, your reason weakens, and human memories start to fade.

After that, instinct takes over—you act more like the animal part.

…Was that why she could “talk” with that big crow last night?

[“This is bad! I’m in serious trouble!”]

Forget the scoop—if she couldn’t turn human, everything would be ruined.

How was she supposed to type an article with bird feet?!

[“No matter what, I have to turn human again!”]