A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The dim light flickered overhead, making the shadows on the cold steel walls jitter and stretch like restless ghosts. The air smelled of damp stone and old parchment—like a place built to hold secrets, maybe even bury them.

Through the reinforced viewing window, I watched my father. He sat eerily still, his expression a perfect mask of indifference, as if he hadn't just tried to kill his own son.

Honestly, I didn't even know MECCP had an interrogation room. The restraints binding his hands looked deceptively simple—just a thick, rune-threaded band around his wrists. But I'd seen those before. No amount of struggling would break them.

I should get a pair for safety reasons.

Despite everything, he looked… unbothered. No panic. No remorse. Not even the faintest flicker of guilt for attempting murder. His own son—this gullible, ridiculously good-looking son of his.

All because of some twisted belief that my essence was something Theos had the right to claim.

The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced this so-called cult had absolutely no idea what they were doing. Did they even keep up with current events? Did they understand how things actually worked in Mythica?

And more importantly—how did he know about Mythica in the first place?

Agnos stood beside me, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. His presence was steady, grounding.

"You okay, Carl? This must be a lot to take in."

My brain was still buffering.

In the past few months, I'd been roped into fixing magical disasters, accidentally stumbled into saving an entire world, and somehow ended up as the reluctant guardian of a sanctuary full of creatures that saw me as their glorified babysitter.

And now? Now I found out my father was a cult-obsessed lunatic who somehow knew about Mythica.

Fantastic. My life just kept getting more interesting.

I should be furious. Betrayed. Shattered.

Instead, I just felt… tired. Like the world kept throwing plot twists at me faster than I could process.

"I don't get it," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Why would Theos, a group that worships you, suddenly flip their ideology? Are cult fanatics that fickle now?"

Agnos's cat-like ears twitched—a telltale sign of irritation. "Who knows? Maybe greed. Maybe something worse."

Before I could respond, the door creaked open. Naga stepped inside, his usual unreadable expression in place. But it was the person walking in behind him that made me pause.

I blinked. "Wait… is that Baku?"

The figure moved with unhurried precision, the air around him humming with quiet menace. My gut twisted.

I turned to Agnos, who flashed me a lazy, crooked smile—one that didn't even attempt to reach his golden eyes.

"Baku's going to assist with the interrogation," he said casually. "There were some… inconsistencies in your father's statements earlier."

My stomach dropped. "Wait—what exactly is Baku going to do to him?"

Sure, my dad was a cult-obsessed lunatic, but he was still my dad.

"Relax." Agnos waved a dismissive hand. "Just therapy and counseling." He paused. "Well… Mythica-style."

I shot him a look.

Agnos met my gaze with that same unreadable expression—the one I had come to recognize as This is standard procedure. Why are you even questioning it?

Inside the room, my father finally noticed Baku's presence. His shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched. And then, for the first time since this entire mess started… his expression changed.

Fear.

A gnawing unease crawled up my spine. Why was he afraid?

Frowning, I tried to recall everything I knew about Baku. Nightmare devourer, sure. But there was something else… something Agnos had mentioned before.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my digital journal. I had jotted it down for reference.

Then, there it was—Dream Mapping.

Baku could trace the source of someone's fears. Use their deepest nightmares to uncover hidden truths.

This wasn't just an interrogation.

This was a hunt.

And my father was the prey.

I looked up just as Baku placed a glowing dream orb in front of him. The eerie light cast ghostly reflections over my father's face, his wide eyes betraying what his calm demeanor could not.

Then, without warning, his body convulsed.

His eyes rolled back, turning stark white. His breath hitched. His fingers twitched like a puppet with its strings yanked too tight.

I stiffened, horror threading through me.

"My dad… he… He's not gonna die, right?" My voice came out more uncertain than I liked.

Agnos arched an eyebrow. "Oh, Carl. You really are soft. The man literally tried to kill you, and here you are, worrying about his well-being." He sighed, shaking his head. "You should try being selfish for once."

A few minutes later, my father slumped forward, unconscious. His breath came slow and steady, but the tension in his face—the tight jaw, the furrowed brows—remained, like he was still fighting something in his sleep.

Baku exhaled through his nose, casting me a brief glance before giving Naga a silent nod. Without a word, he scooped up the dream orb, its glow flickering slightly in his hands, then turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Naga followed, his face unreadable.

I swallowed, my throat dry. That's it?

I had expected something… worse.

A dramatic collapse, thrashing, maybe even screaming.

But my father just sat there, slack and motionless, as if the fight had been drained right out of him.

Agnos stepped closer, pulling me from my thoughts.

"What happens now?" I asked, my gaze still locked on my father's limp form. He looked smaller somehow. Less like the imposing man I had grown up with and more like a stranger who had lost his way.

Agnos didn't answer right away. Instead, he slipped his hands into his pockets, his golden eyes gleaming under the dim light.

"Now," he said, his voice calm but edged with something I couldn't quite place, "we find out the truth."

Then he turned, already heading for the door.

I let out a slow breath, casting one last look at my father.

The man who had tried to kill me. The man who had fallen into the grip of Theos. The man I still, against all logic, felt something for.

Shoving those thoughts aside, I followed Agnos.

Whatever truth we were about to uncover… I wasn't sure I was ready for it