Chapter 4: A Fowl Misunderstanding

The silver glow from the Moonpetal Bloom faded, leaving Su feeling like a discount party decoration after the rave was over. The monkey’s blue and gold warpaint was already flaking off, making her look like a badly restored artifact. She glared down at the little leather-bound catalog in the dirt.

With a sigh that sounded like rustling leaves, she nudged the book open with her beak. The first page, with its crossed-out Moonpetal, seemed to mock her. The next page was blank. A new line of text shimmered into view below the illustration.

NEXT REQUEST: SUN-KISSED CICADA SHELL (x5).

REWARD UPON DELIVERY: INFORMATION.

Information. The one thing she desperately needed. What the hell were the "Trials of Character"? Where was she? How did any of this work?

Grudgingly, she pecked at the book until it shut, then managed to awkwardly tuck it under one wing. It was surprisingly secure. The system, it seemed, had a convenient "inventory" function for quest items.

QUEST ACCEPTED: THE COLLECTOR’S WHIMS

Whims. I’m going to call it ‘justification for future arson’.

She trudged away from the hut, the weight of her new part-time job heavy on her soul. The jungle seemed less terrifying now, but only because her terror had been downgraded to profound, bone-deep annoyance.

Her first day on the job was a masterclass in humiliation. Finding sun-kissed cicada shells meant waiting near trees for the disgusting bugs to molt, then trying to pick up the brittle, translucent shells with her stupid beak without shattering them. It was fiddly, mind-numbing work.

As she worked, she became aware of the other… residents. A family of squirrels chattered at her from a branch, their tails flicking.

TRANSLATION: “Look! The new one works for the Hoarder. How… common.”

A pair of colorful parrots swooped overhead.

TRANSLATION: “Such dull feathers! And what is that on its face? Did it fall into a painter’s pot?”

Oh, go pollute a pirate’s shoulder, you overgrown budgies.

This was her new reality. Not just being a peacock, but being the wrong kind of peacock. The bottom of the social ladder. The one who got weird looks from the local wildlife and had to run errands for a primate with a hoarding problem.

After what felt like an eternity, she had managed to collect five intact shells. She trudged back to the hut, dropped them unceremoniously in front of the monkey (who inspected them with his monocle before giving a satisfied nod), and received her reward.

The monkey chattered, and the system translated.

INFORMATION: THE PATH TO STRENGTH LIES TO THE EAST, BEYOND THE STREAM OF TEARS, WHERE THE TWO-LEGGED ONES NEST. THEY ARE… CONFUSED. TREAD CAREFULLY.

The two-legged ones? Humans? Finally, something that makes sense! Well, relatively. ‘Confused’ is putting it mildly if they’re living next to a ‘Stream of Tears’.

Hope, that stupid, persistent spark, flickered again. Humans! They could help! Or at least, they’d be a more familiar kind of problem.

She headed east, following the monkey’s directions until she heard the sound of rushing water. The "Stream of Tears" was a beautiful, clear creek, named, she assumed, for the weeping willow trees that lined its banks. It was idyllic. And on the other side, she saw them.

A small, medieval village. Thatched roofs, a wooden palisade, peasants in tunics tending to fields. It was like a page from a history book.

Civilization! Sort of! Okay, Su, you’ve got this. Just… waddle over there and… communicate. Somehow.

She crossed the stream, her heart pounding with a bizarre mix of excitement and dread. As she approached the edge of a cultivated field, a young peasant boy, no more than ten, spotted her. He froze, his eyes wide. He dropped his basket of weeds.

Su stopped, trying to look as non-threatening as a four-foot-tall bird could. She attempted a friendly nod.

The boy’s mouth fell open. He pointed a trembling finger.

“M-Mom!” he screamed, scrambling backward. “Mom! The sorrow-bird! It’s cryin’ its eggs again!”

Su blinked.

…I’m sorry, it’s WHAT?

A woman, burly and wielding a wooden rake, came running out of a nearby hut. She looked from her terrified son to Su, and her face hardened not with fear, but with irritation.

“Shoo! Go on! We don’t need your weepy egg-layin’ nonsense near the cabbages! It’s bad enough we have to listen to your caterwaulin’ all spring, thinkin’ you’re mournin’ your lost loves!”

Su was so stunned she couldn’t even form an internal monologue. She just stood there, a statue of feathered bewilderment.

Weepy egg-laying? Caterwauling?

The system, ever so helpfully, provided a pop-up.

LOCAL MYTHOS LOGGED: HUMANS OF THIS REGION BELIEVE PEACOCKS REPRODUCE ASEXUALLY VIA TEARS OF SORROW, WHICH SOLIDIFY INTO EGGS. THEIR MATING CALLS ARE INTERPRETED AS LAMENTATIONS.

They thought she… cried her children into existence? And her attempts to find a mate were seen as the wails of a perpetually heartbroken drama queen?

Before she could process this, a new sound reached her ears. A low, rhythmic thumping and a familiar, grating screech. She turned her head.

There, in a sun-dappled clearing just beyond the field, was another peacock. A real one. His plumage was a breathtaking cascade of emerald, sapphire, and gold, his train fanned out in a spectacular display that put her drab, speckless existence to shame. And he was dancing. A weird, jerky, side-to-side shuffle, vibrating his feathers to create that infamous rattling sound.

And he wasn't alone. Three peahens—elegant, sleek, and just as dully colored as Su—were casually pecking at the ground nearby, utterly ignoring his grand performance.

The male peacock spotted her. His beady eyes locked onto hers. For a glorious second, Su thought he recognized a kindred spirit, another of his species, perhaps someone who understood this fresh hell.

He stopped his dance. Puffed out his chest. Tilted his head. And then, he let out a screech that could strip paint and began his ridiculous, vibrating strut directly towards her.

No. No. NO.

He circled her, shaking his tail feathers in her face, his display a blatant, feathery cat-call.

TRANSLATION: “BEHOLD MY GLORY, UNATTRACTIVE STRANGER! MY TRAIN IS THE NIGHT SKY PINNED WITH A THOUSAND EYES! MY VOICE IS THE SONG OF THE THUNDER! SURELY, YOU ARE OVERWHELMED BY MY MAGNIFICENCE AND WISH TO BEAR MY SPECTACULAR CHICKS!”

The peahens, finally looking up, let out a series of bored, chattering clucks.

TRANSLATION: “Ugh, here he goes again.” “Thinks his tail excuses his personality.” “Just pick one so he shuts up, I’m trying to find grubs.”

Su stood there, trapped between a medieval woman who thought she was a weeping egg-factory and a preening, polygamous himbo who had seriously misread the room, the situation, and her entire species.

The peasant woman yelled, “See! It’s tryin’ to woo the new one! The heartbreak! The tragedy!”

The peacock screeched,“ACCEPT MY ADVANCES, PLAIN ONE!”

The system chirped

BIOLOGICAL IMPERATIVE DETECTED. SUGGEST—

That was the final straw.

She didn’t think. She just acted.

She drew her head back, and with a force that came from a lifetime of sharp retorts and two days of pure, concentrated bullshit, she unleashed a scream so loud that it momentarily silenced the entire forest.

It wasn't a peacock's cry. It was the sonic manifestation of every swear word she'd ever known, filtered through a beak and amplified by sheer, unadulterated spite. It was a sound that questioned the peacock's lineage, his intelligence, his fashion sense, and his very right to exist. It was a sound that told the peasant woman exactly what she could do with her cabbages and her rake.

The effect was instantaneous.

The peacock’s train snapped shut so fast he nearly fell over backward, his eyes wide with shock and avian horror.

The peahens finally looked genuinely interested,their heads cocked in curiosity.

The peasant boy burst into tears.His mother dropped her rake, crossed herself, and stumbled back towards her hut, muttering about "demonic fowl."

The system window flashed red.

WARNING: HOST HAS UTTERED A PROFANITY OF SUCH POTENCY IT HAS TEMPORARILY BYPASSED THE FILTER.

LOCAL REPUTATION WITH ‘RIVERSIDE VILLAGE’ HAS CHANGED: NEUTRAL - FEARFUL/“POSSESSED”.

LOCAL REPUTATION WITH ‘PEAFOWL CLAN’ HAS CHANGED: IGNORED “THE SCARY ONE”.

The supernova of rage had left a ringing silence in its wake. Su stood there, chest heaving, the phantom echoes of her unfiltered profanity still hanging in the air. The field was empty, save for the three peahens who were now staring at her with an intensity they had never granted the flamboyant male.

And then, the flamboyant male himself re-emerged from the bushes.

His name, as the system now helpfully provided, was Azure Majesty. His magnificent train was tightly furled, his head was lowered, and his beady eyes were narrowed with a dawning, horrifying comprehension. He wasn't looking at a potential mate anymore. He was looking at a rival. A speckless, ugly, terrifyingly loud rival who had just invaded his territory and humiliated him in front of his... well, his potential harem.

He took a slow, menacing step forward, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest—a sound completely different from his earlier screeching courtship.

TRANSLATION: “You… You are not a hen.”

OH, NOW YOU NOTICE?! IT ONLY TOOK YOU A FULL-FRONTAL VIEW OF MY ENTIRE DULL, NON-EGG-PRODUCING BODY, YOU ABSOLUTE WALNUT!

Azure Majesty puffed up, not in display, but in threat. “You are a male. A weak, pathetic, ugly male. You dare challenge me? You dare come to my grounds and disrupt my courtship with your… your ungodly noise?”

Challenge you? I was trying to get you to LEAVE ME ALONE, you feathered narcissist! And ‘ungodly noise’? Pot, meet kettle, you sound like a broken car alarm!

Before she could even attempt to form a retort that wouldn't trigger the profanity filter again, Azure Majesty lunged.

It wasn't a graceful pounce. It was a clumsy, furious charge, all spurs and rage. Su squawked in pure panic, backpedaling furiously. Her mind was a screaming mess of conflicting impulses.

FIGHT BACK! KICK HIM! NO, DON'T TOUCH HIM, HE'S DISGUSTING! I'M A GIRL! I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT ANOTHER GUY OVER GIRLS! THIS ISN'T WHAT I WANTED!

She dodged a swipe of his sharp spur, her movements awkward and terrified. This was a fight for dominance. A fight for the right to mate with the three bored-looking peahens who were now watching with what could only be described as mild entertainment.

I DON'T WANT TO MATE WITH THEM! I WANT TO BE ONE OF THEM! WE COULD BE COMPLAINING ABOUT YOU TOGETHER! GIRL TALK!

“Fight back, you coward!” Azure Majesty screeched, aiming a peck at her head.

Tears of frustration welled in Su’s eyes. This was the ultimate violation. Not only was she trapped in the wrong body, but that body was now being forced to participate in its own deeply humiliating biological rituals. She wasn't just fighting for survival; she was fighting for her very gender dignity.

“Leave me alone!” she tried to scream, but it came out as a pathetic, warble-y Kra-wobble!

This seemed to enrage Azure Majesty further. He interpreted her terrified evasion and crying sounds as some kind of advanced, taunting battle strategy.

Meanwhile, a fascinating shift was happening with the peahens. They had completely lost interest in grubs. Their heads were tilted, their intelligent eyes fixed on Su. His behavior was… unprecedented. He wasn't posturing. He wasn't trying to display. He was crying and running away. It was bizarre. It was intriguing.

TRANSLATION (Peahen 1): “He is… sensitive.”

TRANSLATION (Peahen 2): “And he told off Azure Majesty. No one has ever done that.”

TRANSLATION (Peahen 3): “He is different. I like it.”

NO! DON'T ‘LIKE IT’! THIS ISN’T A PERSONALITY, IT’S A MENTAL BREAKDOWN!

Emboldened by what he perceived as the hens' admiration for his dominance, Azure Majesty redoubled his efforts. He managed to corner Su against a large tree, his eyes blazing with triumph.

This was it. The end. She was going to be beaten up by a bird she'd mentally dubbed 'Azure Majesty' over the affections of three other birds she had zero interest in. The universe had a truly sick sense of humor.

In a final, desperate act of self-preservation and sheer spite, Su did the only thing she could think of. As Azure Majesty lunged for the final blow, she didn't try to kick him. Instead, she ducked under his attack, spun around with a clumsiness that defied physics, and with all her might, she shoved him.

It was less of a warrior's move and more of a "get away from me, you creep" shove.

It was also, entirely by accident, perfectly aimed.

Azure Majesty, off-balance and unprepared for such an undignified tactic, stumbled sideways. His feet tangled in his own (admittedly magnificent) tail feathers. With a squawk of pure indignity, he tripped, tumbled head over spurs, and landed flat on his back in a large, fresh pile of cow manure that one of the village livestock had kindly left behind.

There was a moment of perfect, pristine silence.

The great Azure Majesty, champion of the clearing, was lying defeated not by a mighty blow, but by a shove and a cow pat.

He lay there, stunned, covered in dung, his pride irreparably shattered.

Su stared, panting, her body trembling.

The three peahens looked from the manure-covered fool to the strange, crying, victorious new male who had defeated him not with strength, but with what appeared to be cleverness and raw emotional vulnerability.

And they were utterly, completely smitten.

As one, they began to amble towards Su, making soft, inviting clucking sounds.

TRANSLATION (Collectively): “Oh, mighty and strange one… your victory is ours. We are yours.”

Su’s tears of frustration finally overflowed. This was so much worse than losing the fight.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The system chose that exact moment to chime in, its tone infuriatingly cheerful.

QUEST COMPLETE: UNINTENTIONAL DOMINANCE DISPLAY!

REWARD: +150 EXP!

ATTRACTION OF (3) PEAHENS ACQUIRED!

NEW TITLE UNLOCKED: ‘The Unwilling Harem Lord’

‘The Unwilling Harem Lord’: Slightly increases the curiosity of nearby peahens.

Azure Majesty managed to get to his feet, shook off the manure with a sound of pure shame, and fled into the forest.

Su, now Level 3 and surrounded by three admiring females who were nudging her with affection, could only let her head droop in defeat.

I need a lawyer. And a species reassignment surgery. Immediately.