dkrc Chapter 780: Visiting The Zoo
Chapter 780: Visiting The Zoo
Just as Joy seemed like she was about to drift off to sleep—her eyes snapped open.
She sat up abruptly, pulling off her sunglasses.
Her heart raced. Her mind worked quickly, piecing something together.
’Everyone’s gone.’ She thought. ’Cassius’s wives, the maids, even my own sisters. They’re all at the festival.’
She perked up her ears, listening. In the distance, carried on the wind, she could hear them—laughter, shouts, the faint echo of festival music.
A massive commotion that would probably last until late into the night.
They won’t be back anytime soon.
Her gaze drifted toward a certain direction in the garden. A path she’d walked many times before, always stopping at the edge, always turning back.
’That means I can...’
The moment the thought formed, she didn’t hesitate.
She drained the rest of her milkshake—it was too delicious to waste—set the glass down, and stood up. Her legs carried her forward with purpose, a destination already fixed in her mind.
She walked through the garden, past flowering bushes and manicured hedges, until finally, she reached her destination.
The sounds hit her first.
Baa. Baa.
Quack. Quack. Quack.
Cluck. Cluck.
A chorus of animal voices, each one distinct, each one calling out in its own way. Joy’s heart swelled.
She was standing before the mini zoo that Cassius had built for Vivi.
It was a sprawling enclosure, divided into sections, each one carefully designed to mimic the natural habitat of its inhabitants.
There were simple wooden fences for the farm animals—goats and sheep and chickens and horses and more elaborate structures for the exotic creatures.
Creatures that Joy had only ever seen in books.
The moment she stepped in, her eyes darted from enclosure to enclosure, her breath catching in her throat.
There was a creature that looked like a raccoon but had stripes all over its body—black and white bands that wrapped around its fur like rings.
It was washing its paws in a small stream, completely oblivious to her presence.
There was a monkey-like thing that was so incredibly fluffy she could barely see its face.
It looked like a ball of brown fur with eyes, bouncing from branch to branch in its enclosure.
And there—her heart nearly stopped—a tiger-like creature with blue and red stripes running down its flank.
It looked ferocious. It looked like it could tear a person apart with a single swipe of its massive paw.
But it was actually nuzzling a small goat!
The goat was pressed against the tiger’s side, completely unafraid, and the tiger was licking its fur like a mother grooming her child.
Joy knew—because she’d read about this creature that despite its terrifying appearance, it was actually a herbivore.
It ate leaves and berries and never hurt anyone.
She stared at it with wonder.
Birds she couldn’t name fluttered in a massive aviary.
Lizards basked under heat lamps.
Snakes coiled around branches.
Turtles dozed in shallow ponds.
Cassius had built this for Vivi. The girl who had spent most of her life trapped in a room, unable to see the world, unable to experience its wonders.
He had brought the world to her.
And now it was a petting zoo for the entire household.
Whenever anyone was stressed, they’d come here. Feed the animals. Pet the fluffy ones. Watch the silly ones do silly things.
It was a place of peace, of healing, of simple joy.
Even Joy’s sisters had started coming here.
And now—
Joy stepped closer to the fence.
Her cold eyes had softened. Melted even.
In their place was something unrecognizable.
Adoration. Excitement. A childlike wonder that no one in the capital had ever seen.
"This...This is a Faelisk!" She whispered, pointing at a small lizard with iridescent scales. "They’re native to the eastern swamps. They can change color to match their surroundings, but they only do it when they’re happy."
"The books say if you see one change color, it means you’ve brought it joy."
She watched the lizard for a moment. It didn’t change color.
She moved on.
"And this—!"
She crouched down to peer at a bird with feathers that shimmered like oil on water
"—this is a Mourningthroat! They sing the saddest songs of any bird. People say if you hear one cry, you’ll weep for three days straight."
She tilted her head. "But if you hear one laugh, you’ll be happy for the rest of your life."
The bird didn’t make a sound.
Joy sighed and excitedly moved onto the other exhibits.
"Goddess above, is that a mothela!"
"No way! That’s a pencil-weaver! How did they even bring it here?!"
"A famina! So pretty!"
She named creature after creature, each one from memory, each one with its own story, its own quirks, its own place in the world.
She spoke about their habitats, their diets, their mating rituals.
She spoke about the first time they’d been discovered, the explorers who’d brought back their sketches, the scholars who’d debated their classifications.
She sounded like a scholar. A nerd. A complete and utter animal fanatic.
If anyone could see her now, they’d slap themselves and think they were dreaming.
But this was the Joy that Maria knew. That Aqua knew. That the sisters had glimpsed, briefly, when she was near animals.
This was of course because loved animals.
Not in a casual way—not in the way most people loved them, with a passing appreciation and a vague fondness.
She loved them truly. Deeply. Passionately.
After all, they were the only creatures in the world that didn’t repulse her.
Humans, she could see through. Their souls, their intentions, their hidden darkness. Even the best of them had shadows lurking in their hearts, and those shadows made Joy uncomfortable.
They gave off a stench that she couldn’t ignore, a constant low-level assault on her senses.
But animals?
Animals had pure souls.
They acted on instinct, not malice. They killed to eat, not for pleasure. They didn’t scheme or lie or betray.
Their hearts were simple, uncomplicated, clean.
Being around them was the only time Joy felt truly at peace.
It had been that way since she was a child.
When she’d lived under her step-mother’s cruel and when her days had been filled with pain and her nights with tears—the stables had been her refuge.
She’d sneak out when everyone was asleep and curl up next to the horses.
Their warmth, their steady breathing, their gentle nickers had been the only comfort she’d known.
Those memories were precious to her. Sacred.
But somewhere along the way—after she’d killed her father, after she’d become the Saintess of Judgment, after she’d stained her hands with so much blood—the animals had started avoiding her.
It was as if they could smell the death on her. Or maybe they could see her soul the way she could see theirs, and what they saw frightened them.
Whatever the reason, Joy could no longer get close.
She could feed them. Care for them. Clean their enclosures.
But the moment she tried to touch them, they’d flinch away. The moment she reached out her hand, they’d retreat.
Even the animals back in the capital, the ones she’d raised from babies, kept their distance.
She could only experience their softness secondhand, watching Maria pet and play with them.
It broke her heart.
But she’d learned to accept it. Learned to love from afar.
And now, standing before this zoo, she’d hoped—just for a moment—that maybe things would be different.
---
Her eyes landed on one creature in particular.
It was standing in a small enclosure, munching on grass with lazy indifference.
It looked like a donkey, but a very strange donkey. It had no hair—none at all.
Its skin was smooth and pinkish-gray, stretched tight over its bony frame. Its face was long and droopy, with a perpetual expression of confused sadness.
Its ears flopped down on either side of its head.
And its butt.
Its butt was fat!
Comically fat. Hilariously fat. The kind of fat that jiggled with every step, that swayed back and forth like a pendulum, that looked completely absurd on such a scrawny creature.
It was called a Montegro.
And Joy pressed her hands to her mouth in sheer excitement and shock when she saw it.
"It’s actually here." She whispered. "It’s actually a Montegro!"
She had only ever seen them in illustrations. Old books, rare manuscripts, sketches from explorers who’d traveled to distant lands. She’d read about their habits, their habitats, their peculiar charm.
But she’d never seen one in person.
And now one was standing right in front of her, eating grass, completely oblivious to her existence.
Joy’s heart raced.
She moved to the side of the enclosure, where a small bin of feed sat. Special feed, formulated just for this animal. She grabbed a handful—fresh grass mixed with some kind of grain and held it out.
"Come here." She said softly. "Come here, darling. Please. Let me pet you."
Her voice was sweet. Affectionate. Completely unrecognizable.
If any of her sisters heard her, they’d be sick. They’d think she’d been possessed. They’d call for an exorcist.
Joy didn’t care.
"Please." She continued, waggling the grass. "This is much tastier than what you’re eating over there. I even picked out the stems. Those are the worst part, right? I took them all out. Just for you."
She leaned over the fence.
"Sweetie. Darling. Precious. Just come a little closer. Let me pet your head. Just once. I’ll be so gentle. You won’t even feel it. I promise!"
The Montegro lifted its head.
It looked at her.
Its eyes were small and dark and utterly devoid of expression. It stared at her for a long moment, its mouth still chewing, its ears flopping.
Joy held her breath.
"Yes. Yes. Come on. Just a little closer."
The Montegro took a step toward her.
Joy’s heart soared.
"Yes! That’s it! That’s my good boy!"
Another step.
"A-Almost there. Almost there. Just a little bit more!"
The Montegro was close enough now that Joy could almost reach out and touch it. She extended her hand slowly, carefully, not wanting to spook it.
And then—
The Montegro stopped.
Its eyes narrowed.
Its ears straightened.
It looked at Joy and something in its expression shifted.
Fear. Recognition. The instinctual understanding that this creature in front of it was dangerous.
It backed away.
"No—no, wait—" Joy’s voice cracked. "Please. I won’t hurt you. I come in peace. I just—"
The Montegro turned and walked away.
Its fat butt jiggled with each step, but Joy didn’t find it funny anymore. She just watched it retreat, her hand still extended, her heart crumbling.
"Please." She whispered. "Please come back. I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to pet you. Just once."
The Montegro ignored her.
It settled down in a far corner of its enclosure, its back to her, and resumed its lazy chewing.
Joy’s hand dropped to her side.
She let out a long, shaky breath.
She wasn’t surprised.
This was how it always went. Every time. Every animal, every enclosure, every hopeful moment ended the same way.
She was too cold. Too dark. Too much.
The animals knew it. And so they rejected her.
Joy slumped against the fence.
She looked around the zoo. The other creatures were watching her now—the striped raccoon, the fluffy monkey, even the gentle tiger. They all had the same wary look in their eyes.
Predator, they seemed to be saying. Danger. Stay away.
Joy pushed herself off the fence.
"Fine." She muttered. "I...I’ll go. I didn’t mean to disturb you."
She turned to leave.
And then—
A chuckle.
Low and warm, coming from right beside her.
"Wow, Joy." The voice was teasing, amused, infuriatingly familiar. "Not only are humans terrified of you—legs shaking, faces pale, the whole deal—but even the animals feel the same way."
She turned her head slowly.
Cassius stood beside her, hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face.
"Your title as the scariest saintess to ever exist really suits you."