The owl's eyes began to close as it swayed slightly, and I felt a sudden urge to help. If you move around that much, you will fall, I thought, alarmed. In a split second, as it began to topple forward, I lunged and caught it just in time. "Phew, close call," I murmured, carefully bringing the owl inside and shutting the window.

Examining the creature, I saw the blood pooling on its feathers. It must have lost a lot of blood, I realized, concern flooding my mind. Suddenly, the owl opened its eyes and began flapping its wings in panic, trying to escape.

"Wait!" I called out, chasing after it as it darted around the room. I finally spotted my chance.Now!With a swift movement, I managed to catch it, though it squirmed and flailed, scratching my hands with its claws. "Ouch!" I winced, feeling a sting. "Calm down! I'm not trying to hurt you. I just want to help!"

But how can an owl understand my words?As if hearing my thoughts, the owl suddenly ceased its struggles.Wait, did it actually understand?

Carefully, I placed it on the couch table and released my grip, observing to see if it would attempt to escape. To my surprise, it stayed put.

The sight of the injury makes my chest tighten. Poor thing. It's hurt, but it's not flying away—maybe too tired or in too much pain. I step forward slowly, careful not to scare it. Its amber eyes lock on me, sharp and alert. I can't blame it for being cautious. After all, the world hasn't been kind to either of us, has it?

"You've been through something rough, haven't you?" I whisper, crouching down a few feet away. The owl doesn't move. Its eyes stay fixed on me, but it doesn't try to fly away. I take that as permission to come closer. One careful step at a time, I edge forward until I'm close enough to cradle it in my arms. The owl is surprisingly light, its feathers soft against my skin, but I can feel how tense it is. Its heart is racing.

"Alright, let's see what we're dealing with..." I murmur, keeping my voice as low and soothing as I can, hoping it won't panic. The last thing I want is for it to hurt itself even more by struggling.

I take a closer look at its foot, frowning at the gash running down its talon. Dirt and grime are caked into the wound, and I can tell it's probably infected. When I gently touch it, the owl flinches, its sharp claws brushing against my fingers, but I stay calm. No sudden movements. I know how animals react when they're scared.

"Easy now... I've got you. Just need to clean this up first."

I stand up slowly, still holding the owl, and gently wrap it in my jacket to keep it warm. "Don't worry, I'll be right back," I tell it, hoping it understands on some level. I carefully set it down on the table and leave the room, closing the door behind me.

As I step into the hallway, I see the guard approaching with coffee. Perfect timing.

"Mr. David, I need your help," I say quickly. He looks at me, surprised.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

I glance back toward the room, thinking about the injured owl, and nod. "I need a first aid kit and some warm water. The owl's hurt."

---

I return to the room with supplies in hand. The owl is still on the table, just where I left it. It's quiet now, not making as much noise, though I can see its chest rising and falling rapidly, still nervous.

I kneel down beside it and speak softly, "Hey there, I'm back. Time to treat you."

I set down the supplies and get to work. First, I soak a piece of gauze in saline solution and carefully clean the wound. The water runs red with blood as I wipe away the dirt and grime. The owl twitches in my arms, and I feel its talons press harder against my hand, like it's trying to grip onto something for support. I wince at the sting but keep going. It must hurt like hell, but I know this needs to be done.

"This will sting a bit... but I promise, it'll feel better soon," I say softly, hoping my voice is enough to keep it calm.

The owl blinks at me, its amber eyes sharp and unblinking. There's a fierceness there, an undeniable strength despite its injury. I almost smile. It's tough, this one.

"I've seen worse, trust me... You'll be flying in no time."

As I clean the wound, I can't help but feel a strange connection to this creature. Its injury, its struggle to stay strong—it all feels too familiar. How many times have I been like this? Beaten down, bleeding, but trying to keep going? I swallow down that thought. Now's not the time to dwell on my own past.

Once the wound is clean, I grab some gauze and begin wrapping its foot. My hands move automatically, years of practice guiding my fingers as I secure the bandage. I make sure it's snug but not too tight.

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"There. That should hold," I say, securing the last piece. I add a soft cloth to keep the bandage from coming undone, making sure it won't constrict the owl's movements. "Now you need to rest."

I take a step back, giving the owl some space. It doesn't move, just keeps its eyes on me, watching closely. It's almost like it understands. Maybe it does. Animals are smarter than people give them credit for. They know when someone's trying to help.

"You'll stay here for now, alright? I'll check on you in a bit."

I glance down at the owl's bandaged foot and wonder if there's something I can give it to eat. I should find something gentle, easy on its stomach while it recovers.

With that thought in mind, I leave the room again and head toward the kitchen. As I walk, I run into David, the guard.

"How's the owl?" he asks.

"Doing better now that I've treated the wound. I'll keep an eye on it," I reply. "But I need to grab some food for it."

David looks at me, a little puzzled. "Food? For the owl?"

I nod. "Yeah. I'm thinking something like cooked, unseasoned chicken pieces. Or maybe eggs—soft, easy to digest."

He blinks at me for a moment, then chuckles. "You're really taking this seriously, huh?"

"Of course I am," I say, a little defensive. "It's hurt. I'm not just going to leave it like that."

We reach the kitchen, and the cook turns to greet me. "Oh, hey, Tyson. What can I get for you?"

"Egg noodles, please," I said automatically. Then I remember the owl and add, "And can I get some cooked, unseasoned chicken and maybe mashed or cut pieces of egg?"

The cook raises an eyebrow. "For you?"

David chuckles beside me. "No, no, it's for the owl."

I roll my eyes. "Obviously."

The cook laughs. "Just messing with you, Tyson. I'll get it ready."

As the chef busied himself with the cooking, I noticed David glancing at me from the corner of my eye. Something seemed off, so I turned to him.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

He hesitated for a moment before replying, "Uh... how do you know my name? I never mentioned it."

I gave a small smile. "Well, as an executor, I have to know everyone in the Familia. What kind of executor would I be if I didn't even know who was in my own Familia?"

David nodded, seeming to understand. "Yes, sir—"

Before he could finish, I cut him off. "Actually, I meant to mention this earlier. Please, don't call me 'sir.' Just call me Tyson."

He looks surprised but nods. "T-Tyson. Got it."

It's small, but hearing him say it without the formality feels better. I'm not the Executer yet, after all. Plus it feels weird when someone older then me calling me that.

As the cook gets to work, David watches me curiously. "Why those foods?" he asks, looking genuinely interested. "I thought owls just eat raw meat."

I nod. "Normally, they do. But this owl's injured, and I don't want to strain its digestive system. Cooked, unseasoned chicken is easier to digest than raw meat, especially when it's in a weakened state. The lack of seasoning keeps things simple—no risk of upsetting its stomach. As for the eggs, they're a great source of protein and are soft enough for the owl to eat without too much effort."

David listens, nodding along as I explain. "Makes sense. You really know your stuff, huh?"

″Well, my father taught me all that″ i replied

The cook hands me a small container of the chicken and eggs, and I give him a nod of thanks. "Perfect. This will do."

With food in hand, I start to head back to the owl, feeling a strange sense of responsibility for the creature. It's funny, really. In a way, I see a bit of myself in it—wounded but trying to hold on. As I walk, I can't help but wonder if this owl, too, will get a second chance at flying... just like I got a second chance at life.

I reached the room, nudging the door closed with my foot since both my hands were full with plates of food. The owl was still perched on the table, its amber eyes tracking my every movement. As I approached, I couldn't help but smile.

"Hey there, buddy," I said softly, setting the small container of food down along with a dish of water. "Time for some food."

It stared at the plate, then glanced back at me, as if waiting for some kind of permission. I chuckled to myself. Is it really that cautious?

I sat down on the couch, placing my plate of noodles on my lap. Taking a bite, I savored the familiar heat. "Spicy as usual," I muttered under my breath. The cook really knows my taste.

I glanced over at the owl again. It still hadn't touched the food, only looking between the plate and me. I took another bite, this time making sure it could see me chew. "See? It's safe," I mumbled through my mouthful of noodles.

Finally, the owl cautiously bent down and began to peck at the pieces of chicken. I watched in silence as it ate slowly, occasionally dipping its beak into the water to drink. I smiled, feeling a strange warmth settle in my chest.

"Good. That's my boy," I whispered, more to myself than to the owl.

We ate in companionable silence. I finished my noodles first, leaning back on the couch for a moment to let the warmth of the food settle. When I glanced back at the owl, it had finished its meal as well. I got up quietly and gathered both of our plates, taking them to the kitchen for washing.

When I returned, I noticed the owl's head was drooping slightly, its eyes blinking slowly. It was on the verge of sleep, its small body finally starting to relax.

"Looks like you're ready to rest," I said softly, reaching over to switch off the lights. The room dimmed. "Sleep well, little guy."

As I made my way back to the desk, I flicked on the lamp, its warm light casting a soft glow over the books and papers scattered around. "Now, let's get back to studying," I mumbled, settling into the chair.

The hours slipped by as I lost myself in my studies, the quiet hum of the lamp the only sound in the room. I'd been at it for so long that my back started to ache. I stretched, leaning back in the chair and letting out a low sigh of relief.

"Finally, done," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck. The owl was fast asleep now, its chest rising and falling steadily. I glanced at my phone—it was 12:20 AM.

"Late again," I whispered to myself, setting the phone down on the desk.

As I stared at the sleeping owl, a bittersweet feeling crept in. Maybe this is a goodbye to my friends... and probably to my peaceful life as well. The thought lingered, heavy in my mind. Will I make new friends in the Familia? Who knows... I chuckled softly. The future felt uncertain, but oddly, I wasn't scared. There was a strange comfort in the unknown.

"Execution exams, huh?" I muttered under my breath, my eyes growing heavier by the second. "Let's see how it goes."

Slowly, I let my eyes close, my body sinking into the chair as the weight of the day caught up with me. The soft glow of the lamp and the gentle breaths of the owl were the last things I noticed before sleep took over.

To be continued...