At dusk, Saber and Siraya wrapped up their volleyball practice and joined a group of teammates at the dormitory entrance, mingling with some big cats and a few other animals.

“Ready? Today, your senior is going to show you kids the real deal!" a slightly short-statured lion exclaimed with fiery enthusiasm, his mane blazing red like flames. Siraya had mentioned him briefly before—a sophomore in their department, residing in the third male dormitory, Maasai Mara, an excitable African lion by nature.

“It's on us tonight! Make sure you eat till you're stuffed!" Amid a chorus of cheers, Maasai Mara confidently led the way, surrounded by an entourage of big cats. It only took three seconds for me to realize he embodied the exact kind of feline personality I detested. With any luck, our paths wouldn't cross more than necessary.

“Wow, the quintessential feline candor. At least someone's excited about tonight's dinner," Ayaan quipped, her tone tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

“Hmph," I replied, withholding further comment.

The entrance to the black market was actually right next to the district, accessible via an inconspicuous alleyway.

“The black market now requires real-name registration, so you'll need to scan your fingerprint. All data is connected to the records in Central City," Maasai Mara explained to the group before heading to the counter and pressing his fingerprint. Upon hearing that records would be kept, unease spread among the freshment members.

“What? Don't tell me you're thinking of backing out now? You've come all the way here—are you going to tuck your tails and run?" Maasai Mara bared his teeth as he spoke, successfully stirring up the hesitant big cats. Fantastic. I could almost see myself knocking out that short lion's teeth, leaving him on the ground crying with a bloody mouth.

No, damn it. I shook my head forcefully, trying to dispel the enticing thought. This was supposed to be a fresh start. Everything has layers and depth, and I should strive to set aside my biases.

After Saber completed his registration, he gestured toward Maasai Mara, who glanced at me, rolled his eyes theatrically, and went over to a burly lion at the counter to speak quickly.

If we keep interacting like this, someday I might accidentally rip his throat open, just to see how many colors are inside Maasai Mara. By now, even Ayaan had completed his registration, leaving only me. Maasai Mara's body language and speaking pace grew increasingly rapid, but the lion he was talking to seemed entirely unfazed.

I sighed inwardly and approached the counter. If you can't even tell who's in charge here, how can you claim to be so experienced? As I got closer, the honey badger behind the counter swallowed nervously. Yes, I noticed how tense she'd been since I walked through the door.

I glanced at the small square screen used for fingerprint registration, exhaled lightly, and shook my head slightly. Understanding my gesture, the honey badger sighed in relief, nodded, and said something to the lion guarding the entrance before motioning for a server to seat us.

Essentially, this wasn't much different from an ordinary restaurant. Since the integration of the surface and black markets, many new regulations had been implemented to ensure that these lawless zones could be brought under control.

“Given that we have many life animal customers visiting for the first time, according to the Beastars Act, Article 7, Clause 3 of the Black Market Management Regulations, and…" After everyone was seated, the server began explaining the rules. The sophomore looked exasperated, while the freshmen either flipped through the menu in confusion or were distracted by the scents wafting through the air, clearly lacking the focus to process the information.

So, this is the kind of challenge you face in practice. If I hadn't come to the black market with these spirited big cats, I wouldn't have realized just how many potential situations could arise. The Alaska Peninsula brown bear who lived in the room next to ours even let a few drops of saliva escape.

In an effort to ease tensions between life and natural animals, and to legalize meat consumption for life animals, the Beastars Act had been passed after numerous struggles and was implemented with the council's approval.

It regulated the sourcing of products, allowing only corpses with consent from the individual or their immediate family, with exceptions for non-essential body parts that were already or about to become non-functional. Essentially, it eliminated the sight of animals selling themselves.

Additionally, sales and processing could only occur in designated areas, colloquially known as the black market. The black market layout permitted only one entrance and exit and prohibited flying within its boundaries. Moreover, the use of the term “meat" was allowed within the market.

All adult animals, unless declared otherwise by a court or medical institution, were free to enter and conduct transactions in the black market. The rules for transactions were extensive, focusing primarily on the management of items intended for direct consumption. The bill had faced significant opposition during its drafting but was ultimately supported by influential advocates and the wealth of the Horns Conglomerate*.

Of course, the initial reopening of the black market brought chaos, as long-suppressed life animals let loose. Conservatives stirred, threatening to undo all efforts to reduce interspecies conflicts. Then, inevitably, that event happened.

“I'll have two 'Breath of Courage,' please." After confirming my order, I handed the menu back and nodded to the server.

“Hey, are you sure about that, pup?" Maasai Mara tilted his head, sneering disdainfully.

“I just think the name sounds cool—Breath of Courage has a nice ring to it," I said with a smile, scratching the back of my head. In truth, this was another clause of the regulations: actual dishes were not accompanied by photos and were given abstract names like “Venus's Leap" or “The Last Tuesday," leaving first-time patrons reliant on experienced regulars for guidance.

Interestingly, the same clause also prohibited informing first-time patrons about the real items behind the names, or influencing their choices in any way. Just now, Maasai Mara's comment alone could've gotten him enrolled in a seven-day black market safety seminar. Please, don't test my patience, you stupid cat.

“Are all canines this dumb? Whatever. Do what you want," Maasai Mara muttered to himself.

“Sir, interfering with other customers' first experience is very impolite," the honey badger manager appeared at our private room's entrance to admonish Maasai Mara, who fell silent.

After placing our orders, the manager and server left together, with the honey badger casting me a worried look before departing. I rolled my eyes. Don't worry, I won't lose control like some beast. But I don't even want to imagine what might've happened if Maasai Mara had said that aloud in front of her. Creatures like Maasai Mara will never understand what true courage means.

“The proper name is actually 'Ibuki's Courage,'"** I said quietly to Ayaan after our meals arrived. We had been teased about our salads, and I had deflected the jokes with a goofy smile. “It's in honor of a very brave lion." I popped a bit of alfalfa into my mouth as Ayaan listened silently.

“Wait, senior, is this place owned by the Horns Conglomerate?" The brown bear who had drooled earlier suddenly noticed the antler logo on the menu's bottom right corner. I vaguely remembered his name being… Aska?

“No, it's not," Maasai Mara wiped his mouth and answered. “That's Shishigumi's emblem."

“You mean that once-famous mob group? My dad mentioned them. But why did they use antlers as their symbol?" asked the Bengal tiger from room 202 downstairs.

“Rumor has it their former leader loved eating venison. He even hung a deer head in his office. When the black market reopened, they used the antlers to register as a legitimate business." Siraya joined in, and Saber nodded, confirming the story matched what he'd heard. Has the narrative really twisted this much?

"That's the leader who got overthrown by Melon, right? I heard Melon turned some of Shishigumi's underlings against him and ambushed him in a tunnel, shooting him in the back before seizing control of the entire gang."

The big cats dove into urban legends about Central City and tales of Shishigumi's rise and fall.

“Speaking of which, what happened to Melon?" someone asked.

“Still locked up in maximum security, I heard."

“My dad used to joke about eating melons for months during the Melon craze."

Ugh, they're discussing topics I don't want to hear. I tried to tune out and observe the group's reactions instead.

The sophomores were unfazed—seasoned visitors accustomed to indulging occasionally at the black market, consistent with previous data and projections. Black market legalization alone wasn't likely to worsen the situation.

What about the freshmen? Ayaan seemed uneasy, quietly eating his salad. The surrounding scents clearly made the meat-averse lion uncomfortable. The others acted like they'd discovered a new world but displayed no concerning behavior. So, what had changed? Social attitudes, educational disparities, or just the passage of time?

The bill also emphasized the promotion of basic physiological education for all animals. Previously, ecology and physiology curricula stressed suppressing instincts or overcoming them, avoiding the subject entirely. Now, bringing the issue into the open allowed newer generations to understand each other's differences from a young age, reducing misunderstandings. It was hard to believe some beast was a driving force behind all this.

“Hey, you alright?" Maasai Mara asked, noticing the Bengal tiger's trembling hands.

“I don't know what's happening," the tiger replied nervously.

“Here, take this," Maasai Mara placed a blue-and-white square in the tiger's hands—it smelled like mint.

“Saber, can you take the freshmen back later?" Maasai Mara asked. Saber nodded as Maasai Mara helped the tiger out of the room.

Surprisingly considerate, huh? He even came prepared with mints. So, is this what different layers of depth mean? How can I avoid repeating the same mistakes, passing unfair judgment on others? How can I keep the scales balanced? What criteria should I use? With so many complex variables, how can I determine what's right or wrong?

The atmosphere turned awkward after the incident, but the upbeat big cats quickly found new topics to dissolve the tension. Soon, everyone was chatting about course selections, professors' reputations, and harmless campus gossip.