Not a Scummy Alpha, But a Sweet Puppy (Transmigration Into A Novel) - Chapter 55: The End

The dog did indeed seem uninterested. It stayed pressed against Gu Zhibai’s leg, glancing at her only once at the beginning and never looking up again.

Her friend remained wary, standing at a distance with his round rabbit ears twitching nervously.

“You’re a Beastman,” Gu Zhibai said dismissively. “It’s just a dog. What’s the big deal?”

“But I’m a Hamster Beastman!” her friend retorted, planting his hands on his hips, his voice ringing with righteous indignation.

Gu Zhibai had no response. She patted the dog’s rump. “Get in the car.”

She put on her gloves and, just like on the day of the cold snap, used the Suspension Field to lift the luggage into the back of the car. Instead of jumping in, the dog tried to help, nudging and pawing at the boxes, attempting to push them closer.

Gu Zhibai burst into laughter and kissed the dog’s head. “Good boy! Get in the car now. You don’t need to help.”

The dog still didn’t move, following closely at Gu Zhibai’s heels until she had finished loading everything and settled into the car. Only when she waved it over did the dog finally jump into the car, immediately lying down and resting its head on her shoe.

Even as her friend drove, he couldn’t shake his unease, frequently glancing back and clicking his tongue. “Why did you suddenly decide to get a dog? I thought you were never interested in pets.”

“People change,” Gu Zhibai said, patting her knee. The dog sat up and rested its head on her lap, and she stroked it absently.

“You humans are so fickle,” her friend remarked, half wistful, half resentful.

“Another breakup?” Gu Zhibai raised an eyebrow.

That opened the floodgates. Her friend instantly forgot his fear of dogs and launched into a tirade against his ex, tearing apart everything from his fashion sense to his nocturnal habits, from his eating habits to his accent. He found fault with every aspect of the man, as if he were the most irredeemable villain imaginable.

“He dumped me and immediately hooked up with a Cat Beastman!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the console, his fur bristling with fury like a giant, caramel-coated mochi.
So that was the problem: a Cat Beastman.

Though Beastmen had evolved beyond their animalistic origins, certain traits remained ingrained in their genes. Carnivorous Beastmen tended to be cruel and aloof, while herbivorous ones were generally gentle and peaceful. Wolves were solitary yet fiercely loyal to their packs, while dogs were more affectionate toward humans.

Security work was often entrusted to German Shepherds or Dobermans, breeds that both humans and Beastmen found reliable.

The Hamster Beastman’s hatred of cats was likely just instinct.

Gu Zhibai listened to her friend’s endless complaints during the drive, feeling his cursing skills had reached new heights.

Only when the car pulled up to her house did he finally stop, his voice still tinged with reluctance. “Next time, watch yourself. Don’t go too far.”

“I know,” Gu Zhibai replied. They both knew she wouldn’t take his words to heart.

“The Black Market’s got a bunch of new stuff in these past few days. Interested?” He leaned against the car door, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

“Has it even been a week since your breakup?” Gu Zhibai asked, speechless.

“Don’t be such a buzzkill,” he waved dismissively. “So, are you in or out?”

“I’m in,” Gu Zhibai said.

“I’ll pick you up later,” he said, satisfied, before bidding her farewell.

He was one of Gu Zhibai’s few close friends. To prevent him from getting drunk and causing trouble, she figured it was best to go with him.

The security camera at the gate scanned her face, and the gate automatically swung open. Gu Zhibai lowered her head and said, “Let’s go home.”

The dog seemed to be smiling, its mouth open and tail wagging twice.

This house was far larger than anything in the Lower Sector, like the difference between a palace and a thatched hut.

In the Lower Sector, even a lifetime of work wouldn’t buy you a coffee table for your home.

As Gu Zhibai stepped inside, she felt an immediate sense of comfort, like a fish returning to water. She tossed her clothes onto the floor the moment she entered, casually draped a silk robe hanging by the wall over herself, and headed for the bathroom for a soak.

“Mianmian, come here.”

Barefoot, she climbed the stairs, intending to give the dog a bubble bath as well.

The dog shook its head vigorously, dislodging the clothes draped over it, and followed her upstairs with a spring in its step.

The bathroom was as large as her former one-bedroom apartment. Gu Zhibai pressed two spots on the wall, and a circular platform rose from the floor. She swiped her hand across the center, dividing the platform into two pools that simultaneously filled with hot water.

“You take this side,” she said, pointing to one of the pools. The dog looked at her, stood up, and rested its front paws on the edge of the pool, tentatively touching the hot water with a paw.

“Still too hot for you?” Gu Zhibai chuckled, lifting the dog’s hind legs and pushing it into the pool.

She then shed her loose robe and stepped into the other pool. “This is the life,” she murmured, leaning back against the pool wall, enjoying the water jets massaging her skin as she watched the dog paddle around.

The dog loved playing in the water, floating on the surface like a blob of cream bobbing gently.

Gu Zhibai rested her hand on the edge of the pool. The dog paddled over with its four legs, licking her fingers.

“Ah, my sweet baby, being clingy again?” she murmured.

Her dog didn’t whine or fuss when it wanted affection. It simply pressed against her silently, leaning against her, licking her fingers. Over time, she had come to truly understand how clingy the dog was.

Whenever she left the house, it would stick to her heels. It only ate food she gave it, and before sleeping, it needed to see her. If she wasn’t there when it woke up, finding her was its first priority.

It never ran around excitedly or whined. Instead, it would clumsily lie down at her feet.

Gu Zhibai rubbed its face. The dog closed its eyes, resting its chin on her hand, looking utterly content.

“Sigh,” she sighed. “You’re such a clingy thing.”

The next evening, her friend arrived as planned to pick her up. Gu Zhibai emerged with the dog, and he stared in disbelief. “You’re bringing your dog to the Black Market?”

“Mianmian would be sad without me,” Gu Zhibai replied.

Her friend didn’t know what to say. He rolled his eyes, his mustache twitching. “You pet owners are so irrational, so utterly incomprehensible.”

Gu Zhibai nodded. “You’re right.”

Her friend, lost for words, muttered, “Nothing you do surprises me anymore.”

He shook his head. “Forget it. Let’s get in the car. If we miss the auction, I’ll regret it forever.”

Strictly speaking, the Black Market wasn’t entirely unregulated. The person in charge here had a murky relationship with the mayor, who turned a blind eye to the market’s transactions in exchange for a cut of the profits.

Its location wasn’t particularly hidden either. It occupied a vast underground plaza, large enough to house an entire auction hall and two commercial streets.

Every visitor to the Black Market had to be introduced by a regular. Upon arrival, staff issued a badge that distorted light to conceal identities and projected a unique mask onto the wearer’s face as a symbol. No two masks were alike.

Her friend’s mask was a tabby cat’s face, while Gu Zhibai’s was a serpent eagle.

Bringing a pet to the Black Market was certainly ostentatious, but no one bothered to interfere. Her friend, brimming with excitement, whispered about the auction’s new offerings: “It’s a dark-skinned person! So handsome!”

The Black Market also sold pets, the well-trained kind, both human and Beastman. Naturally, there were also hybrids: humans who retained partial animal features. Some particularly beautiful hybrids often fetched higher prices.

This practice had persisted since the Great War era. The awakening of Beastmen had inevitably disrupted human society. After a century of conflict, even with the current peace, human-dominated cities and Beastman-dominated cities remained sharply divided.

Intermarriage existed, but so did hostility. The entire society could be described in a single word: chaos.
However, businesspeople naturally lacked racial allegiances. Profit was their sole guiding principle, so they sold everything.

Her friend had a permanent VIP box, and he had received information about the auction items in advance. After all, major clients always enjoyed special privileges.

A Rabbit Beastman in a black suit approached, bowing politely. “Welcome, ladies. Miss Serpent Eagle, it’s been far too long.”

“Spare me the formalities,” Gu Zhibai said, idly twirling a chain around her finger. The dog, jerked by the leash, kept its head bowed.

As the second-in-command, he couldn’t possibly be unaware of her recent activities, especially since the auction house had suffered a direct hit to its profits.

The Rabbit Beastman’s lips curled into a smile, his crimson eyes gleaming vividly in the lamplight. His voice was smooth as a fine violin. “Miss Serpent Eagle remains as direct as ever. Mr. Raccoon Cat, Miss Serpent Eagle, this way please. I trust you’ll both enjoy your evening.”

Inside the private box, Gu Zhibai’s friend shivered. “I still suspect he’s a Snake Beastman, definitely not a rabbit.”

Leaning back on the sofa, Gu Zhibai picked up a piece of honeydew melon and held it to the dog’s mouth. “What does it matter what he is? It won’t stop you from buying things.”

After a long moment, the dog slowly licked her fingertip and took the melon.

Having finished the fruit, it jumped onto the sofa and burrowed into Gu Zhibai’s lap, nudging her with its large head.

Gu Zhibai cupped its head. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Suddenly so affectionate. Do you want a hug?”

The dog buried its head against Gu Zhibai’s chest. She patted its back helplessly, hugging the clingy giant.

Her friend’s attention had long since shifted to the auction downstairs. The lots were numerous and of exceptional quality, catering to both men and women with exquisite features.

A mixed-race individual with rabbit ears was sold. The next item was the dark-skinned man her friend had been longing for. He had white hair, rugged features, and wore only a pair of shorts and a decorative collar around his neck, the chain held by the auctioneer.

The auctioneer tilted the man’s chin up, directing the camera to capture his face, and began announcing his basic information: age, dimensions, skills, and temperament.

Pets from the Black Market were virtually flawless. They were capable of anything, willing to do anything, docile, and accustomed to enduring hardship. After purchase, a custom Pet Chip would be implanted into their bodies, allowing the Master to control and punish them with ease.

“So handsome,” her friend murmured, swallowing hard as she excitedly bid. “He’s exactly my type!”

Gu Zhibai now strongly suspected that her friend had dumped her ex just to acquire this auction item.

The dog remained motionless, curled up in Gu Zhibai’s arms, and she felt a sudden weight.

“Mianmian, you’re actually quite heavy,” she said, gently nudging the dog, who only burrowed deeper.

Is it scared? Gu Zhibai thought helplessly. She’d assumed stray dogs were fearless, the kind that wouldn’t be intimidated by unfamiliar environments. After all, she hadn’t noticed it being afraid to go outside during their walks.

She stroked the dog gently, trying to soothe its anxiety.

Meanwhile, her friend had already embraced his newly acquired human, his hands all over the latter.

“Excellent, excellent!” With a wave of his hand, he tossed a generous tip and immediately prepared to leave, eager to take his human home.

Gu Zhibai had lost any interest in continuing to browse. She worried the dog might be traumatized or physically harmed by the ordeal.

Her heartless friend, who had brought her here but wouldn’t even drive her home, was too preoccupied with his human to care. Gu Zhibai had no choice but to call a taxi.

The dog remained listless and dejected throughout the ride. It did manage to finish its dinner, but aside from its low spirits, there were no other adverse reactions.

Worried about the dog, Gu Zhibai decided to cuddle it to sleep that night. But in the middle of the night, she was jolted awake by an alarm.

It was the Pet Chip, warning her: “Your pet’s heart rate is dangerously high. Immediate attention may be required.”
Gu Zhibai woke to find the dog trembling violently. It was shaking, shivering, and convulsing like it was being electrocuted, its limbs twitching, eyelids clamped shut, and a faint whimper escaping its throat.

Do dogs have nightmares too?

Just as she reached out to wake it, she heard a muffled sob.

“No…”

Gu Zhibai froze, wondering if she’d misheard. But then another choked sob followed.

“Please…”

She lowered her gaze to the trembling dog, the obedient, well-behaved dog she’d brought home, the dog sharing her bed. A wave of absurdity washed over her.

Her dog could speak.

And everyone knew dogs couldn’t speak human languages.

Gu Zhibai slid out of bed and roughly shook the dog awake. The dog opened its bleary eyes, its gaze filled with confusion, helplessness, and the relief of survival. It blinked a few times, focused on her, and twitched its ears.

How have I never noticed how human her eyes are before? Gu Zhibai wondered.

Had she truly never noticed? Or had she simply rationalized it away? After all, Mianmian was a remarkably intelligent dog. Dogs were known for their human-like qualities. What was so strange about that?

“You were having a nightmare,” Gu Zhibai said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The dog sat up, stretching its neck to lick her fingers.

The absurdity of the situation exploded in Gu Zhibai’s face like a water balloon, drenching her completely.

“You know what?” Gu Zhibai didn’t pull her hand away, but instead smiled slightly. “You were talking in your sleep just now.”

The dog wagged its tail, opened its mouth, and looked at her with a smile, as if completely innocent, a perfectly ordinary dog.

Gu Zhibai pulled up the floating screen and played back the surveillance footage from earlier.

She didn’t speak. The dog closed its mouth, frozen in place as if turned to stone. The room was as silent as a graveyard, broken only by the faint, repeated sobs the dog had made in its sleep.

Gu Zhibai pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say or do. Suddenly, the dog startled violently, as if someone had pressed play on a recording. It tumbled off the bed, wrapped its paws around her calf, and shrieked, “No! Don’t send me away!”

“I am, I’m your dog!” It trembled violently, even worse than when it had just woken from its nightmare. Tears streamed down its face, soaking its fur. The dog babbled incoherently, “I’m really good, really obedient. Doesn’t Master like me? You used to say I was your good baby, am I not good enough? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please don’t kick me out! I’ll be really obedient!”

“Please, Master,” the dog wailed, its voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m your good baby!”

Gu Zhibai lowered her head. “You’re a Beastman.”

In this city, Beastmen held higher status than humans. Why would a Beastman choose to live as a stray dog?

The dog clung tightly to her leg, still in its canine form. It shook its head violently, nearly snapping its neck. “I’m not! I’m not a Beastman! I’m your dog! I’m your good baby, I’m your good baby.”

Its eyes glazed over as it repeated the phrase endlessly. Whenever Gu Zhibai made the slightest move, the dog would howl loudly, its voice a mix of human words and dog barks, hoarse and raw as if it were tearing its throat apart.

Gu Zhibai felt helpless.

She bent down, gently but firmly pulling the dog away. She cupped its yelping mouth, drew it close, and stroked its back and belly. She rubbed its ears and kissed its forehead.

“Good boy,” she murmured. “Be good.”

The dog still trembled, but it quieted down. The nightmares that had plagued it receded, and it returned to reality, to its master’s embrace. It whimpered softly, “I’m sorry.”

“So, what exactly are you?” Gu Zhibai asked. Beastmen held higher status than humans in this city, and they naturally despised their animal forms. How could a Beastman be living openly in his animal form?
The dog began to tell its story, its voice hoarse, like gravel mixed with salt. Each word seemed to tear at its wounds, bringing tears of pain.

It was a Pet Beastman, conditioned to obedience. The dog had no memories of its former life, only the training, the cruel punishments, the endless torment. The Rabbit Beastman, with his calm, emotionless voice, announced the next feeding time and the start of each punishment.

The guards were chatting, remarking that the buyer had already purchased three pets this month, a shockingly high turnover rate.

The dog was dazed, its spirit as stagnant as a pool of dead water, yet it understood their words. Was it going to die? Become just another statistic in their “shockingly high turnover rate,” without even a proper name?

Of course, it thought. Pets can only be named by their masters.

It was taken to the surgery room. Just as the Pet Chip was being implanted, a commotion erupted outside. Something had happened at the Black Market. The chaotic noise grew louder, and the surgeons fled.

Gazing at the open door, the dog’s heart pounded faster. It bit off its own tail, leaving the Pet Chip and the severed end on the operating table, and escaped, covered in blood.

Afraid of being recaptured, the dog dared not maintain its Beastman form. It transformed into a dog and began wandering the city streets.

So, its escape had been its own doing after all.

“Let me see,” Gu Zhibai said, releasing her embrace. “Your original form.”

Tears blurred the dog’s vision as it nodded. In the next moment, its limbs stretched, accompanied by the crisp cracking of bones as they lengthened.

Its eyes grew larger and rounder, its features softened into a more humanlike appearance, and its limbs elongated. Its face was delicate and adorable, with tears still clinging to its lashes, giving it a look of innocent vulnerability, as if it were lost and helpless.

Beastmen, of course, wore clothes; exposing their fur was no different from running around naked. But the dog, lying on its back in Gu Zhibai’s arms, had no concept of clothing. Dogs don’t need clothes, it thought.

The dog hugged her arm, as if suddenly remembering something, and eagerly began reciting the “knowledge” it had learned. It pulled her hand to its face, guiding her palm downward to stroke its cheek.
The dog’s fur was soft and smooth, clinging to Gu Zhibai’s hand like silk.

Touching a Beastman felt completely different from petting a dog.

The dog continued chattering incessantly, as if presenting a treasure. Its tail wagged more vigorously, wrapping around Gu Zhibai’s arm in a playful loop.

“I can do anything,” the dog said, nipping at her finger with pleading eyes. “Master, please don’t send me away.”

Even as a dog, it had been beautiful. Now, transformed into a Beastman who better fit human aesthetics, its sweet charm was even more pronounced.

The dog licked her lips, its soft, pink tongue brushing against them. Gu Zhibai felt a strange sensation, as if she had become a bowl for food.

It pressed against her, unusually eager and proactive, as if showcasing its abilities to prove its worth as a good dog.

Gu Zhibai felt a stirring of desire. To deny it would be a lie, but this desire had nothing to do with love; it was purely physical. The Black Market’s reputation for training pets was legendary, with every customer singing their praises. It was only natural for her to be curious.

Yet this was a dog she had raised for months. Gu Zhibai felt a sense of unease, a deep discomfort.

Lost in thought, she neither refused nor agreed.

The dog panicked, fearing it hadn’t performed well enough. Its claws had been dulled, but tearing through her clothes remained effortless.

It buried its head against her chest.

The dog had learned well. Naturally, every pet learned well; those who didn’t rarely survived a week.

Its tongue was thin and soft, long and agile, capable of many things.

Gu Zhibai cradled its head with a complex expression, murmuring, “You really can do everything.”

Gu Zhibai had no idea when she’d fallen asleep. When she woke up the next morning, she felt utterly ridiculous.

The dog hadn’t reverted to its canine form. It had spread the blanket by the bed and slept on the floor all night, looking pitiful.

The moment Gu Zhibai stirred, it woke up, leaned against the bed, and softly called her “Master.”

“Shall I prepare breakfast for you, Master?” the dog asked, its eyes pleading.

“No need,” Gu Zhibai said, rubbing her temples, still feeling drowsy.

“I can do it!” the dog insisted, its voice rising in urgency, then softening into a whimper. “I can make breakfast. I’m very useful!”

“I know,” Gu Zhibai said. “I know you’re very useful.” She pinched the dog’s ear. “Good boy.”

The dog immediately grinned, leaped onto the bed, and nestled into her arms, its fluffy head nuzzling against her. Over and over, it repeated, “I’m a good boy! A good boy is me!”

The dog sighed in relief, bubbles of happiness practically radiating from its entire being. It blinked its eyes, flopping back into Gu Zhibai’s arms and pulling her hand to its belly. “Master, pet me.”

“I can get you a fake identity,” Gu Zhibai said suddenly, rubbing the soft fur on the dog’s belly. “That way, you won’t have to worry about being captured by the Black Market.”

Instead of joy, the dog reacted with panic. Tears welled up in its eyes. “Does Master not want me anymore?”

“Don’t you want a new identity?” Gu Zhibai asked. “You could walk outside with dignity, live as a person like me, instead of being a pet.”

The dog clung to her like an octopus, tail tucked between its legs, and sobbed, “But I don’t want to be a person. I just want to be your dog.”

“Alright,” Gu Zhibai smiled, gently wiping away its tears. “Then be my dog.”

—–The End—–

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