Reborn As A Beastman With A System

Logan trudged wearily up to the fifth floor, his muscles aching from the day's exhaustive errands. The city's streets had seen his shadow flicker in and out of nearly seventy liquor stores, a testament to his determination.

"The findings are remarkably similar across all fronts," he muttered to himself, scanning the notes on his leather-bound pad. "Only three types of wine throughout the city, fermented, every single one. No distilleries, just these monotonous varieties shipped from afar by relentless merchants."

The intricate web of middlemen and the lengthy routes of transport inflated the prices to exorbitant levels. Most ordinary mercenaries, those rough-and-tumble souls who frequented the taverns, could scarcely afford a swig more than a few times each month.

In this market scenario, Logan sensed an opportunity, a glaring gap ripe for exploitation. "The city's wine market is mine for the taking," he declared with a spark of ambition in his eyes. "This could very well be the dawn of a new era for my tribe."

He wasn't a winemaker by trade, yet the idea of crafting his own line of spirits, particularly distilled beverages, a concept seemingly alien to this world, fueled his dreams. "I don't need to grasp the whole world, just this city's pulse," he mused, his thoughts racing as he considered the tens of thousands that swarmed Canyon City daily. "A hub of commerce, mercenaries, and even thieves.

Each one a potential patron in a city drowning in spirits."

With a plan fermenting in his mind as richly as the wine he intended to produce, Logan could barely contain his excitement. "Tomorrow, I start. If not for this bone-deep weariness, I'd begin tonight!" he whispered fiercely to the empty hallway.

His reverie broke as a sonorous snoring erupted just as he reached the landing of the fifth floor. The noise emanated from beneath a quilt that seemed to be heaped haphazardly over an assembly of tables fashioned into a makeshift bed. Logan paused, a smirk playing on his lips, amused yet undeterred by the minor interruption.

There was something decidedly off about Logan's quarters tonight.

"Could it be that beastman stumbled here while drunk?" Logan pondered aloud, a puzzled frown creasing his brow as he noticed a cascade of red hair spilling from beneath the quilt on his makeshift bed.

Red hair? And so long?

Before Logan had entered, he was momentarily taken aback. Male beastmen typically boasted a mane of strong, short hair, certainly not flowing and red. Such vivid hues were uncommon, generally seen only among the female orcs whose hair could dazzle with a variety of colors.

"Could it be the woman from last night? She didn't leave?" The realization struck him sharply. He instantly recognized the possibility of a woman under his bed, the same one from yesterday, marked by her fiery, long red hair.

Moreover, she had been the lively soul inviting Tyton and the others for drinks. Perhaps, muddled by drink, she had wandered here in her stupor.

Stepping forward, Logan found it was indeed her. Her vibrant, tangled hair covered her pale face in disarray.

"This woman... what does she want here?" Logan pondered, staring at the snoring figure. She was undeniably attractive, yet her presence in his room was a riddle wrapped in mystery.

After all, she had squandered nearly ten gold coins on drinks for Tyton and his companions without clear reason. Was it simply a display of unneeded generosity, or was there more at play?

As the room began to darken with the evening's approach, Logan knew he had to act. He reached for the quilt to rouse the woman, but suddenly, two hands shot out from under the fabric, clamping around his neck and pulling him down into an unexpected embrace.

Logan's face contorted in shock. Despite his strength as a fourth-level warrior capable of lifting two thousand pounds with ease, he found himself surprisingly unable to break free from her grasp.

"Damn it, what do you want to do, you vixen?" Logan bellowed, his voice a mix of anger and confusion as he struggled against her unexpectedly strong hold.

Logan was not acquainted with this woman, and her unexpected actions filled him with a sense of dread, as he was held tightly in her arms unable to move. "Could she be here to harm me?" he wondered, a slight panic rising within him.

"Why so tense? I merely sought a hug!" Jean retorted, her eyes fluttering open to reveal striking emerald irises, shimmering with a hint of mischief.

She had been alert the whole time, even as Logan came up the stairs. Watching him flail in her grip, Jean finally released him. Logan staggered backward, nearly tumbling to the floor.

"You reckless woman, what are you playing at?" Logan snapped, his voice thick with annoyance.

Ever since his arrival in this time, he had navigated life with the ferocity of a beastman, yet never had he felt so utterly disheveled and humiliated.

"What! Did my scent offends you? It's rather pleasant, actually, wont yoy agree!" Jean countered, sitting up and sniffing at her clothes with a puzzled expression. She regarded Logan as if he was the odd one.

Logan was momentarily lost for words, caught off-guard by her absurdity. While the air was heavy with the scent of wine, there was also an undeniable fragrance that reminded him of his sister Ginny, though Ginny's scent was wholesome like milk, whereas this woman's was intoxicating enough to cause a blush.

"By the way, I've heard from your men that you're a chieftain without a wife. What do you think of me?" Jean inquired, a bold proposition in her voice.

"Even though I'm three years older than you, humans say 'Age is just a number'!" she added.

Logan's expression darkened. "Cardia, these blundering fools of mine, blabbing secrets over a few swigs of cheap liquor," he cursed silently.

"Just you, have you looked at yourself? And you wish to be my wife? Even Canyon City couldn't contain your audacity. Who do you think you are?" Logan scoffed dismissively.

"Really, who are you to me? When you wake, you should just head home," he concluded, baffled and exasperated. They had met merely once, and he couldn't even recall her name, yet here she was, proposing marriage.

In the dimly lit room, Jean leaned closer, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Do the shadows of night ever frighten you? Would you like me to stay by your side until morning, I'll keep you company in my embrace?" She inquired, his voice unusually solemn.

Logan, taken aback by the suddenseriousness, blinked in confusion."What?" he uttered, only to feel a cool,unexpected wetness on his lips - as fleeting as a dragonfly skimming apond's surface, he didn't knew how to react to what just happened to him.

With a mischievous grin spreadingacross his face, Akif declared, "I've kissed you now, and thus you belong tome. Farewell for now!" He then turnedand bounded down the stairs with acarefree laugh

"Damn it!" Logan cursed under his breath as a faint mix of alcohol and fruity fragrance lingered in the air, the peculiar smell adding to his sense of unease.

He felt a heavy cloud of depression settling over him. Everything had happened so quickly; the encounter was almost a blur. He pondered over his recent altercation, questioning his assumptions about beastwomen. "Are all beastwomen so incredibly strong and unabashedly bold?" he wondered aloud, his voice tinged with both admiration and confusion.

As he mulled over these thoughts, details about the woman who had bested him floated into his consciousness, forming a clear image of his formidable opponent.

Name: Jean

Age: 13

Race: Wolf Beastmen

Capabilities: Trained as a sixth-level magician and a fifth-level warrior, her prowess are exceptional, blending the mystical arts with brute strength seamlessly.

"What a crazy perverted women"

Logan switched off Jean's system message and after a moment, shook his head in disbelief.

No wonder she was more powerful than him.

To his surprise, Jean was not only a fifth-level warrior. But it made sense now, their adversary was also sixth-level magician, no wonder he couldn't do anything against her.

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