Beastfolk, gnomes, and elves—all of them are species that crossed over from the same world.
And if we really get into it, they lived in the same world as the demons, too.
They didn’t all cooperate to make the jump over here at the same time, and there were slight differences in the periods they came through, but the dimensional portals that these three species used all appeared in roughly similar areas.
As the demons gradually took over the world on the other side, these beings lost their homes and hastily fled, so they didn’t really have time to think about what they thought of each other or the seriousness of interspecies relations—it was more about surviving at that point.
Ultimately, be it elves, gnomes, or beastfolk, they all tangled together and crossed over to this world, but because they fundamentally didn’t get along very well, once they got here, they had to go their separate ways to find a living.
Well, even combined, the three species couldn’t compare to the sheer number of humans, so they wouldn’t have had much influence anyway.
Anyway, among the three species, the one that adapted the least to human society—well, it’s obvious now—was the elves.
Hiding away in the forest, minimizing contact with the outside world, most elves didn’t even know what was happening outside of their regions. Just think about how exclusive they must be!
In contrast, the species that adapted the best were the gnomes.
They didn’t create a fantastic mechanical civilization like in some fantasy MMORPG, but strangely enough, in a world where magic exists, they focused more on physical laws rather than magic and thus blended relatively well into the human world.
Of course, it’s rare for them to completely merge and live together. No matter how similar their civilizations are or how open-minded they are about accepting human inventions, they couldn’t solve the fundamental issue of “the species height difference.”
Buildings constructed by gnomes, who are considered exceptionally tall if they exceed 140 cm as adults, would naturally differ entirely from the structures humans pursue. It’s no surprise then that gnomes thought, “It’s more comfortable to live separately and save on construction costs.”
As a result, the relationship between humans and gnomes isn’t particularly bad, but for various reasons, the two societies are separated.
So, what about the beastfolk?
They don’t have any exclusive religions like the elves, nor do they have a senate or dictator wielding power over them. They don’t brainwash the residents in weird ways or strictly prevent them from going outside their community.
They don’t stop mixing with humans and, given that their physical structure isn’t hugely different from humans, they often have even better physical abilities than humans. Aside from shedding a lot of fur, there’s really no major issue living amongst them.
But if you ask why this species can’t mix with humans and has formed their own society in the corners of human society—
“I’ll ask again. Why should I accept your help? Because I’m weaker than you?”
“No, it’s not about being weak or strong. It’s because I sense severe malnutrition in the elder’s body right now.”
“Is that so? If I eat this, must I believe in your god? If I have to break my faith to live, I’d rather choose a noble death. So, just go back. Beastfolk do not receive help from those who pity them.”
“No, it’s not like that…”
Indeed.
It really came down to their pure personality.
Considering how terrible the relationship is between the beastfolk and elves, it’s surprisingly remarkable that the ideological foundations of these two species are relatively similar. The beastfolk worship the forest, and indeed, nature itself, which provides everything they live on.
It’s not in the form of a giant tree like the elves, but they do have priests, and there are healing centers run by weak holy powers.
However, as the term “weak holy power” suggests, the number of patients these healing centers can serve is extremely limited.
They lived wandering from forest to forest and field to field, hunting and gathering different kinds of game and fruits depending on the season, making it very difficult for them to adapt to a society where humans delineate borders, do not step outside of them, and divide land as private property.
And—
“It’s natural that the weak are eliminated.”
Yes. For those living in such a society, it has been passed down throughout 500 years that “survival of the fittest” is an unchangeable truth.
The scrawny old man, now sitting quietly with his eyes closed, spewing such nonsensical survival theories.
In fact, survival of the fittest has long been debunked, and using such a concept to determine the strong and weak is very unscientific. Natural selection is more accurately described as “survival of the fittest,” meaning it’s not about the strong surviving but rather that those who have survived are the strong— should I really have to explain all of this to him?
But the moment I started thinking that if he were really that thin, he wouldn’t be saying such things, I simply shook my head and set a bowl of rice and a bottle of water before him.
“Still, just looking at your current state, I worry about you gravely, so please have this. We don’t expect anything from you; we just want to help.”
Fortunately, the old man didn’t say to take it back.
“Ha…”
In the end, I couldn’t see the old man eat. I turned my body away, contemplating whether I should sneak in some holy power, but I gave up. These people reject holy power from a beastfolk healer unless it’s when they’re getting treated. They reject the holy power of those who serve a personality rather than nature itself, which they see as their motherland.
Isn’t holy power supposed to be a power that’s more certain the more you believe in the goddess? It seems strange that they wouldn’t think a beastfolk healer would believe in a goddess.
While pondering this and stepping outside, Aurora gave me a wry smile. Having probably gone through something similar long ago, she seemed to deeply empathize with my attitude.
“It’s funny how everyone says the same thing.”
“Isn’t it…”
At least the old men were better. They thought the process of their extinction was natural and refused to communicate with me. They didn’t show outright hostility. Besides, they didn’t casually make sexual remarks like some oversized-eared races.
However… That nasty attitude of elderliness developed in a bizarre way, making it feel like I was conversing with a wall rather than someone with an opinion different from elves.
That said, I’d reiterate that they didn’t act openly hostile. Perhaps because they were too tired to confront someone else, any brief conversation we had would end with them closing their eyes and giving no response. In which case, I could just leave the food and walk away. After that, whether or not the old man eats is up to him.
The problem was…
“We have no issue at all.”
“Hey, even if the parents are fine, what about the kids…?”
“I’m feeding them three meals a day just fine.”
“That’s not the issue… You should check their physical condition properly…”
“…”
Bang!
They block all attempts at dialogue like this.
Of course, it’s rare that the kids are in a dire situation. Even in the slums, it seems there aren’t often cases where they have to worry about meals every day.
But even if that’s the case, when trying to offer food or educational support to clearly struggling individuals, they just refuse like this. Naturally, this comes from their logic of “survival of the fittest.”
As parents safeguarding their families, particularly as the father, to receive assistance to provide for their family is an extreme humiliation, especially since those would-be helpers believe in another deity, causing an intensification of the beastfolk’s innate exclusivity.
According to the church’s policy, families with below a certain economic status are supposed to receive tuition or food assistance, but if they outright refuse the help, then the means to help disappears.
They outright reject regular health examinations, food, hospital, and educational assistance and settle for homeschooling. Thus, beastfolk in human society rarely climb up high, which in turn serves as a framing device for discrimination against the entire species.
The problem is that the framing fitting somewhat fuels people’s disdain against them,
unlike elves, who seldom cross paths and often appear positively in creative works, beastfolk mostly played the role of villains in the past, and recently, they became a taboo not even touched upon, turning into a dark side that society quietly brushes aside.
But does that mean beastfolk orphans are obedient and listen well to humans? Absolutely not.
“I heard humans are weak! We don’t accept help from the weak!”
A seven-year-old kid, sniffling, declared that to me.
“So if I beat you, will you take my help?”
When I asked that with a serious expression,
“Uh, um?”
The kid was thoroughly flustered. That’s understandable. The only lesson they’ve learned is that beastfolk are stronger than humans.
It’s no surprise that a clueless kid wouldn’t know who I was or where I came from.
Moreover, those beastfolk orphans certainly had someone providing for them. Of course, if that provider were someone undeniably good, we wouldn’t have bothered to ‘rescue’ the orphans. But unlike the church-run convents and convents, these kids roamed the streets daily, begging, pickpocketing, and stealing to survive.
If someone were indeed “taking care of them,” then logically, they wouldn’t need to do those things. But at dusk, the kids disappeared from the streets in an instant, taking with them the money they’d collected throughout the day.
By dawn, they would return to collect money again, suggesting fierce events like human trafficking aren’t likely occurring… but one could easily infer that the “provider” isn’t doing it for purely altruistic reasons.
When I slightly bent down and smiled eerily at that booger-nosed, cat-eared kid—whose gender I couldn’t quite discern—I noticed the startled kid slowly start to back away.
“But we’re strong, more than humans…”
I had to wonder who had taught them that. Did they say it just in case they ever got caught while trying to pickpocket a human, so they wouldn’t fear the consequences? If that were the case, the one who taught them that would be a real piece of work. Even if a knight came out to volunteer, a seven-year-old beastfolk wouldn’t stand a chance.
Naturally, knights on charity work wouldn’t hit a little kid.
But isn’t it odd in a place teeming with kids who beg without shame, saying they won’t accept help from someone weaker? Sometimes, the unaware sisters toss coins into the begging children’s baskets, and they take them without hesitation.
“Let’s have a match right now. If I win, you have to do as I say.”
I smiled and extended my right hand—
“I-I don’t want to!?”
And with that, the little rascal jumped away with all their might.
“Gotcha— Ah!?”
As I tried to grab the kid who was cornered, that blasted kid crawled between my legs and sprinted out of the alley.
Who’d have thought she was a beastfolk!
Of course, I promptly turned around to chase after them, but—
“Did I catch them?”
“Did they get away? Damn it, I really thought I’d catch them this time!”
When I asked a knight lurking at the entrance of the alley, he said the kid never even came out. In other words, there was a way within the alley that allowed a child to hide from the adult’s eyes without me knowing.
Although I technically wouldn’t be considered an adult according to this world’s standards yet.
Thus, the entire beastfolk society was outright uncooperative when it came to charity.
Of course, not everyone is completely unresponsive to us, and some people do want help. Most often, these are individuals with disabilities shunned by beastfolk society or those who have maintained long-term interactions with humans and adopted human thinking.
“Hey— Ladies! Did you have any success today?”
Just like a prime example of a survival-of-the-fittest society, most beastfolk had a macho attitude.
No, it’s not about speaking differently for men and women. Literally every beastfolk shares that macho mentality.
Using expressions that could just as easily belong to a brazen, blonde delinquent if I twisted the context slightly, the speaker wasn’t even a man or a woman.
“Nope, not a single old man took a spoonful of soup today, and every family visit got rejected. The small fry I cornered slipped through my legs and ran away.”
As I sighed and let my frustrations spill out, the bartender, who was casually complimenting the escaping kid, suddenly cleared her throat when she caught me staring.
“—Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Just yesterday, a customer lost their wallet and came crying here. It was exhausting to console them.”
The bartender, flinching her black cat ears, chuckled awkwardly and placed a cup of Americano in front of me.
…Normally, that Americano would have been poured into a glass of liquor that once had alcohol in it.
You might wonder what kind of ridiculous tavern this is, but there is a reason it has come to this.
Originally, this place was a bar located on the boundary between human and beastfolk societies, aiming to cater to customers who wanted slightly unique encounters. Back then, it was doing quite well because of that. However, around 20 years ago, the church started working in this area, leading to near closure.
Of course, the church didn’t meddle in others’ love lives… but among the knights coming for charity work, there were those from the Inquisition, which deterred human customers who found the Inquisition to be quite annoying.
Naturally, the concept of different races mixing for unique encounters fell through, and it simply became an ordinary bar. Observing the church folks coming and going gradually reduced the foot traffic of beastfolk, slowly cutting off its source of revenue.
Just when the owner was pondering whether to close down, a wandering, oblivious nun came in during the day and ordered a glass of milk. That inspired a change of heart into turning it into a café, and that’s how it has operated ever since.
That was indeed a wise choice. While the church doesn’t prohibit alcohol for its followers or clergy, most visitors here are minor nuns or squire types. Though there are occasionally adult knights, they wouldn’t drink much out of concerns of being a good role model for younger nuns and squires.
However, the owner didn’t bother to change the decor or the tableware at all. The coffee machine wasn’t even a proper one but a pod machine, and the espresso pods were tossed into a glass, mixed with some water and ice, making for a truly terrible taste.
“Pretty wasteful, huh?”
When I asked why the decor and equipment weren’t upgraded, the owner coolly answered like that.
There wouldn’t be any franchises coming into a broke slum, and few people would consider opening a personal café, so as long as volunteer activities continued in this location, this café wouldn’t go bankrupt. In that sense, the owner truly embodies natural selection—a prime example of survival of the fittest.
In a way, I might even say she’s the most “beastfolk-like” person I’ve seen.
“Just pass the time here. Nothing’s going to change anyway. No need to stress too much over it.”
Looking at the middle-aged woman who winked at us, Aurora, Linea, and I shared awkward smiles.
Isn’t it more like, “If we don’t come, you’ll go under,” though?
Or will they adapt to the changed environment once more to survive?
While I sipped the bitter coffee that was regrettably under-filled with water, I seriously pondered if the day would come when this café would ever go under.
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