Chapter 3

Sage ultimately didn't let me sleep on the living room carpet.

With a look of sheer disgust, she hoisted me up by my collar, as if she were hauling a soaked burlap sack, and dragged me into the storage room at the far end of the second floor.

"This is your room. Don't cause any more trouble. Matthew isn't feeling well, and he can't handle any more scares, so you'd better behave yourself."

I scanned the shoebox, which was piled with old newspapers and dust, and felt at ease. The corner looked perfect for building a nest. It would've been perfect if there was a little seaweed.

I crawled sluggishly onto the narrow bed and happened to find an abandoned stuffed toy beside the pillow. I balanced it on top of my head, savoring the perfectly balanced center of gravity, and drifted peacefully off to sleep.

…

Early the next morning, I was jolted awake by a shrill scream.

Matthew was in the dining room, with a shattered blue-and-white porcelain vase at his feet.

It was Garrett's favorite antique, supposedly worth as much as a house.

"Drake, how could you smash Dad's favorite vase just because you're jealous of me?" He pointed at me as I slowly walked into the dining room.

Yes, after waking up, I seemed to have learned how to walk like a human.

When Garrett emerged from his study, he was so livid that his hands were trembling. Even his fingertip shook as he pointed at the shards. "What do you have to say for yourself, Drake?"

I stopped in my tracks and looked down at the shards. I thought about it for roughly five seconds before raising my head and looking at Garrett calmly. "Well, what's done is done. Maybe it wanted to rest as well. After all, it's been standing there every day. That must be exhausting."

Silence gripped the dining room for a full 30 seconds.

Garrett's expression shifted drastically. "What the hell are you on about? That's a five-million-dollar antique!"

The five-million-dollar price tag didn't faze me in the slightest. At the bottom of the sea, even the most exquisite pearls were merely footrests. We capybaras weren't particularly concerned with worldly possessions.

"Money is just a figure, and a vase is just a piece of clay. We should learn to make peace with its passing. There's no need to get so worked up."

I pulled out a chair, sat down, and leisurely began peeling an orange.

Matthew's sobs came to an abrupt halt. He probably hadn't anticipated this kind of reaction from me.

Usually, this would've been the moment when I yelled that I was innocent and accused him of breaking the vase himself. However, I was a capybara. The word "argument" didn't exist in my dictionary. It was far too exhausting.

Sage rushed over and snatched the freshly peeled orange right out of my hand. "You still have the nerve to eat? Apologize to Matthew! Get down on your knees and apologize to Dad!"

I looked at my empty hand before shifting my attention to her furious face. "The orange is innocent. Give it back to me first."

Enraged, she hurled the orange onto the floor and stomped on it viciously, sending juice splattering in all directions. "Drake, did you fry your brain out there?"

I looked at the puddle of orange juice on the floor and let out a soft sigh. There was a hint of pity in my eyes. "Now, the orange is also smashed. It, too, wants to rest."

Chloe clutched her chest and looked as though she was about to suffocate. Leaning against her chair, she gasped for air. "What did we do to deserve this?! How on earth did I give birth to such a monster?"

I ignored their outburst and calmly picked another perfectly round orange from the fruit platter. This time, I didn't peel it.

I carefully balanced it on top of my head. Then, I closed my eyes, rested my hands on my knees, and began my morning meditation.

Matthew gaped at me as I sat there blank-faced with an orange balanced on top of my head. He probably thought I had somehow transformed into some indescribable, terrifying entity.