I Built a Divine Zoo in Another World

Clavor ordered dinner for everyone. A hot soup, fresh bread with herb butter, and fruit tea for the children.

For himself and Aurora, a pitcher of smooth red wine, which Lukas watched his father drink slowly, savoring every sip.

Lukas ate slowly, enjoying every spoonful.

The soup was hot and hearty, with tender chunks of meat that melted on the tongue, carrots cooked until sweet, buttery potatoes, and a rich, flavorful dark broth that warmed his stomach.

The fresh bread was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, perfect for spreading the herb butter, which tasted of rosemary, thyme, and something else, perhaps garlic, perhaps chives.

As he ate, Lukas observed the other guests.

At a table in the corner, a fat merchant counted silver coins on the wood, separating them into small piles. His hands were thick, with chubby fingers covered in rings, and his sweaty face gleamed beneath the firelight. He counted the coins in silence, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

At another table, two adventurers wearing light armor spoke quietly about a recent hunt. One of them, a thin man with a scar on his chin, gestured animatedly as he described an encounter with some beast.

The other, a woman with red hair tied in a ponytail, listened in silence, a skeptical expression on her face.

”Nonsense.” She said suddenly.

”There hasn’t been a Stone Troll in this region for ten years.”

”I saw it!” The man protested.

”You saw a shadow. And you were drunk.”

”I wasn’t...”

”You were. You always are.”

Clavor ate in silence, but his attentive gaze swept across the hall from time to time.

Lukas noticed how his father’s eyes moved, from the door to the windows, from the windows to the staircase, from the staircase to the adventurers, from the adventurers to the fat merchant. Nothing escaped him.

’He never turns off guard mode. I wonder why?’ Lukas thought.

’Not even in an apparently safe inn.’

After dinner, they went upstairs to their room.

Fatigue weighed on everyone like a thick blanket. Judite was already yawning nonstop, her eyelids heavy, her brown eyes half-closed.

She had spent all of her energy from the day, all the anxiety, all the joy, all the Awakening, and now she was paying the price.

Aurora helped the children change, taking off their outing clothes and putting them into their nightclothes. Lukas wore a white linen nightshirt, soft and light, which Aurora had bought on Needle Street. Judite wore a pale pink one, with small flower embroideries along the hem.

Clavor extinguished the candles, leaving only a small oil lamp lit on the bedside table. The flame flickered gently, casting a faint golden glow across the room.

”Sleep well.” Aurora murmured, kissing each of their foreheads.

She kissed Judite first, forehead, left cheek, right cheek, tip of her nose. Judite laughed weakly, her eyes already closed.

Then she kissed Lukas on the forehead, left cheek, right cheek, and tip of his nose.

”Good night, my love.”

”Good night, Mom.”

Lukas fell asleep almost immediately.

Tilbo was nestled on his pillow, her metallic body faintly shining beneath the lamp’s light. Her antennae moved slowly for a few seconds, then stopped.

The room fell silent.

Only the breathing of five people and one ant.

...

Lukas woke up early the next day.

Even before the sun had fully risen. The room was still dark, illuminated only by the cold gray light filtering through the crack in the window, the light that comes before dawn, when the sky has not yet decided whether it will be clear or cloudy.

His parents were sleeping deeply. Clavor lay on his side, one protective arm draped over Aurora, who was curled against his chest like a kitten seeking warmth.

Judite was wrapped up like a cocoon in the blankets, with only the top of her head visible, her brown hair spread across the pillow.

She had spent all her energy the day before. Now she slept like a rock.

Lukas sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes with his small hands.

”What time is it?”

There was no clock in the room. Only the growing light outside and the distant song of some bird, or perhaps a rooster, from one of the small properties on the outskirts of the city.

Tilbo, beside him on the pillow, began making a strange sound.

It was not the ant’s usual silence. It was a low, repetitive hiss, a high-pitched sound, almost like the creaking of a tiny piece of metal. Her antennae moved rapidly, up and down, side to side, in circles. Her front legs rubbed frantically against each other.

”Hmm?” Lukas frowned in confusion.

”What’s wrong, buddy?”

He picked up the ant with both hands, she was now large enough to fill the palm of his hand, and lifted her closer to his face. Tilbo moved her front legs quickly, as if demanding attention. As if she were trying to communicate something.

Lukas watched her for a long moment, his violet eyes fixed on the ant’s compound eyes.

”She’s agitated.”

”Agitated the same way she used to be when she was hungry during the first few days...”

The memory came suddenly.

The days when Tilbo would appear in the crib, walk across his chest, and then climb down to search for food. Sometimes she would bring back small pieces of fruit or grains, eating peacefully on top of his stomach.

”Ah...” Lukas sighed, relieved that he had understood.

”You must be hungry and thirsty. I only thought about myself yesterday.”

He looked around the room.

There was nothing to offer her. The dinner dishes had already been taken away.

”I’ll have to go downstairs.”

Lukas got up quietly.

His bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. He put on a simple tunic over his nightclothes, the dark green one, the sturdier one, the one with inner pockets, and tied the leather sandals around his ankles with quick movements.

Tilbo climbed onto his shoulder, her antennae still twitching.

He looked at his parents one last time. Clavor was snoring softly. Aurora did not move. Judite remained wrapped up like a cocoon.

”I’ll be quick.”

He carefully opened the door, the iron handle cold beneath his fingers, and closed it behind him with an almost inaudible click.