Mirabelle noticed the sudden tension in the beastmen and stopped chewing. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and studied them.

It was a strange instinct she could not name that drove her to do so, making her forget her hunger for a moment.

Every place her gaze brushed burned against the men’s skin. At once, they straightened further, all previous emotions forgotten. They knew this look from females and were used to it, as they were highly desired partners due to their strength and status.

But they had never experienced this effect before. The urge to present themselves in the best possible way, no matter the cost, was intense and overwhelming.

At the other end of the table stood three tall men of different builds, all extremely handsome and dressed in expensive garments.

Thanks to the memories of the original owner of this body, Mirabelle knew which beast races they belonged to.

On the far left stood a buffalo beastman. She could not determine his cultivation rank, as his collar concealed his neck.

He was the largest of the three, broad in every sense of the word. Wide muscles stretched beneath his clothing, and she wondered what kind of material the seams were made of to withstand that strain.

He wore a white shirt of thin, silken fabric, its edges adorned with golden patterns. Black leather trousers clung to powerful thighs, and something low within her stirred.

’What would it feel like to be caught between those thighs?’

Startled by her own thoughts, her gaze snapped upward again.

He had short, dark hair from which two massive horns rose. A gold ring hung from one of his black-and-white speckled ears. His dark eyes, which had just moments ago glared at her with anger, now shimmered with something closer to desire.

To the right stood a black panther with a dominant aura. Dressed entirely in black, in a matte coat, he appeared dark and dangerous.

His tail twitched as the female studied him. Hidden beneath his clothing and out of her sight, mystical patterns wound across his dark skin.

’This is how I imagine death’, Mirabelle thought.

’With eyes that devour your soul.’

And yet, despite those thoughts, she felt a pull toward him. His eyes seemed to be made of liquid gold. What a painful death it would be to drown in them.

He was strong. Even if he did not appear as heavily built as the buffalo, his aura revealed that he was a high cultivator. The five stripes at his neck confirmed it.

His hair fell in wild waves over his ears, as if someone had just run their hands through it. His jaw was defined, his nose slightly uneven, as though it had once been broken.

But that imperfection only added something dangerous to his otherwise striking face.

’He carries himself like royalty.’

In the middle stood a hyena — or at least she assumed so, since the original Mirabelle had never seen one before.

Compared to the buffalo, the hyena beastman appeared leaner, almost lanky. But she knew this species was not to be underestimated. Four beast stripes marked his neck and confirmed this.

He wore more casual clothing in earthy tones. A loose shirt and something underneath that resembled cargo trousers.

One side of his head was shaved, while the hair on the other side fell past his shoulder. He had several black piercings: in his ear, his brow, the bridge of his nose, and a ring at the corner of his lower lip.

A grin rested on these lips, unmistakably hyena-like. His fangs seemed unnaturally sharp to her.

His eyes were framed in black, like hers, giving his irises a faint reddish hue.

Lines and circles marked his exposed arms, patterns that faintly resembled hyena markings, though more refined, more symbolic.

His long, elegant fingers had been idly playing with a gold coin. But when her attention shifted to him, he twitched.

And the coin slipped from his hand.

CLINK.

The sound rang loudly through the room.

For Mirabelle, it felt like a signal, snapping her out of that strange state.

Her entire body hummed. She realized that despite the feudal nature of this world, animal instinct was deeply rooted in the bodies of beastmen.

Hers currently felt drawn to the strong males. An instinct shaped over thousands of years to secure her safety and that of her offspring.

Resistance stirred within her. ’I am a modern woman. My will is stronger than this urge.’

The beastmen noticed her furrowed brow and felt as if they had been struck.

Were they not good enough for her?

For the buffalo beastman, that was the crack that shattered his self-control.

"Do you think we want to be here? You should feel honored that you are even given the chance to form a bond with nobles from Zasar!"

His aura, which he had controlled until now, filled the room and pressed down on Mirabelle and Owen.

The wolf butler let out a strained sound as he dropped to his knees. He was only of the second rank himself. Each rank was twice as strong as the one before, and so he had no chance against the buffalo beastman.

Mirabelle felt the pressure, but it was neither overwhelming nor suffocating.

From the memories of the former Mirabelle, she knew that this was not normal. She herself, thanks to her lineage filled with centuries of powerful beastmen, had not been weak.

But even she should not have been able to withstand an aura above level three.

Yet she felt none of the expected effects. No shortness of breath, no paralysis, no ringing in her ears or headaches.

The aura was there, like something brushing over her skin and making the air vibrate — but that was all.

A scent of musk accompanied it. This was the only thing she found unpleasant.