I Died and Became a Chapter 303: Avian Invasion

Chapter 303: Avian Invasion

Jack’s boots echoed through the manor’s corridors as he made his way toward his chambers.

His body ached from the day’s violence—the spatial jumps that left his muscles trembling, the transformation’s toll on his flesh, the visceral act of tearing n apart with his own claws.

Blood had long since dried under his fingernails despite washing.

The guards he passed saluted with crisp efficiency, their eyes tracking him with newfound respect that bordered on reverence.

Word had spread fast. Fifteen thousand rcenaries died to one man. A portal to unknown dinsions.

House Kaiser’s heir standing in a field of corpses, laughing.

Jack barely acknowledged the salutes. His mind churned with plans, with possibilities.

The war was over, but the real work was beginning.

He reached his door, pushed it open without looking, and stepped inside.

Then he froze.

Chickens. Everywhere.

At least two dozen of them perched on his bed, his desk, his windowsill, his chairs.

White feathers, brown feathers, speckled feathers, creating a chaotic tapestry across every surface.

The birds clucked and cooed, settling into comfortable positions as if they owned the place.

And the eggs. Gods, the eggs.

His bed was covered in them. Nestled into the folds of his blankets, tucked against his pillows, scattered across the mattress.

Jack’s eyes twitched.

A rooster on his desk crowed, the sound piercing through the room with aggressive cheerfulness.

Jack’s hands clenched into fists. His jaw locked. Lightning crackled involuntarily across his knuckles as rage built like pressure in a sealed vessel.

"WHAT—" he started, his voice climbing toward a shout that would disrupt half the manor.

"Welco back, young master."

Seraphina’s voice cut through his building fury like cool water on burning coals. She stepped into the room from the adjoining servant’s entrance, her expression perfectly calm despite the avian invasion surrounding them.

Jack turned toward her, his golden eyes blazing.

"Seraphina. There are chickens. In my bed."

"Yes, young master." She surveyed the room with professional detachnt. "They arrived approximately two and a half weeks ago. The staff attempted to remove them, but they kept returning. We eventually stopped trying."

A chicken on the windowsill ruffled its feathers and settled more comfortably into its perch.

Jack’s lightning crackled brighter. "How did they even get in here?"

"Through the window, we believe. And the door. And possibly through the ventilation system, though we’re still investigating that possibility."

Jack stared at her. Then at the chickens. Then back at her.

"Why?"

Seraphina’s lips curved ever so slightly. "Perhaps they simply recognize quality accommodations when they see them, young master."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing his breathing to steady. The lightning around his hands dimd but didn’t disappear entirely. "Get them out. All of them. I don’t care if you have to build them a palace in the courtyard,... get them out of my room."

"Of course, young master." Seraphina bowed her head. "Though I should ntion that we attempted to relocate them before. They returned within the hour."

"Then try again. And again. And keep trying until they understand that this—" he gestured broadly at the chaos surrounding them, "—is not acceptable."

"As you command."

Seraphina moved to gather the nearest chickens, but Jack raised his hand. His expression had shifted, so of the fury draining away as exhaustion settled into its place.

"Wait." His voice ca out quieter now. "Before you start chicken wrangling... I need to tell you sothing."

Seraphina straightened, her hands folding in front of her in that patient, attentive posture he’d co to recognize. "Young master?"

Jack crossed the room, stepping carefully around eggs and avoiding a particularly territorial-looking hen.

He stopped directly in front of Seraphina, close enough that he could see the way lamplight caught in her eyes.

"The emissary from House Starfell," Jack said, his tone flat. "The one who struck you when he arrived."

Seraphina’s expression didn’t change, but sothing flickered behind her eyes. A mory, perhaps. Or pain she’d buried beneath professional composure.

"I rember, young master."

"I took his hands." Jack’s golden eyes held her gaze. "Both of them. Before I threw him through the portal with the others. He’ll never raise them against anyone again."

Seraphina’s breath faltered. Just for a mont. Long enough for Jack to notice.

"You... young master, you didn’t need to—"

"Yes," Jack interrupted, his hand rising slowly to her face. His fingers found her chin, tilting it slightly upward so their eyes t fully. "I did."

His thumb brushed against her cheek, the touch gentle despite the violence that still clung to his hands from earlier.

"No one touches what’s mine. No one strikes those under my protection. And no one—" his voice dropped lower, carrying weight that made the air pulse, "—puts their hands on you without consequence."

Seraphina’s cheeks flushed. Pink spreading across her pale skin like dawn breaking over snow.

Her lips parted slightly, words forming and dying before they could escape.

Jack’s hand lingered for a mont longer, then withdrew.

"Young master, I..." Seraphina started, but footsteps in the hallway cut her off.

They both turned toward the door just as it began to open.

Octavia stepped into view, her mouth already forming words about needing to discuss tomorrow’s council eting.

Then she saw them.

She saw the way Seraphina’s face was still flushed.

Saw the remnants of whatever had just passed between them.

Her eyes widened fractionally. Then narrowed.

She stepped backward smoothly, pulling the door nearly closed again. But not quite. Not enough that Jack or Seraphina would notice the gap.

Octavia pressed herself against the hallway wall, her mind racing.

’Does Jack have feelings for Seraphina?’

The thought hit like lightning. Her brother, who’d barely shown interest in anyone since waking from his coma.

’No,’ Octavia told herself firmly. ’He’s just being protective. She serves our house. He’s defending what belongs to House Kaiser. And Jack wouldn’t be into older won."

He stepped back, the mont breaking like glass.

But the flush in Seraphina’s cheeks. The gentleness in Jack’s touch. The intimacy of the mont.

’This could be a problem,’ Octavia thought, her strategic mind already calculating implications. ’If Jack forms attachnts to servants, it’ll be a problem for our standing.’

But beneath the calculation, sothing else stirred.

Curiosity. Her brother was showing humanity for perhaps the first ti toward anyone. Was that good? Bad? Dangerous?

She filed the observation away for later analysis and walked down the hallway silently.

Inside the room, Jack had already turned away from Seraphina, surveying the chicken chaos with renewed frustration.

"Get this cleaned up," he said, his tone returning to its normal commanding edge. "Have so maids change the bedding so I can actually sleep in a bed. It’s been quite a long ti since I’ve had one."

"Of course, young master." Seraphina’s voice had steadied, though the flush hadn’t entirely left her cheeks. "I’ll see to it imdiately."

She bowed and withdrew, leaving Jack alone with two dozen chickens and his thoughts.

A hen on his pillow clucked contentedly.

Jack’s eye twitched again.

"Out," he muttered, gesturing toward the door. "All of you. Out."

The chickens ignored him completely.

Jack fled to his study before he did sothing regrettable to the poultry invasion.

The room welcod him with familiar silence.

Leather-bound books, maps spread across tables, the faint sll of old paper and wax.

’No chickens. No eggs. Just blessed, organized peace.’

He collapsed into the chair behind his desk, his body finally allowed to feel the full weight of exhaustion.

Then the notifications started appearing.