Narrator

You feel the impact. Then nothing — just cold, and a fading awareness that this is it. You're dying.

The next second, the cold changes. Wet grass against bare skin. You gasp. Your lungs work. Your heart beats. The forest towers around you — old thick trees, no path in sight. You're naked, lying on the ground. Something is wrong with your body. Ears too long, flopping against your shoulders. A small, twitching tail. White fur on your shoulders, your thighs, and your hands. A pink nose. Curves where there were none. Your chest is heavier, and your body is smaller.

You remember dying. You remember being human. You remember everything — and yet, now you're some sort of bunny girl.

Then a window appears in your head:

[Bunnykin Runt] [Level 1] [0/100 EXP] [HP: 20/20] [MP: 0/0]

A few hours have passed since you woke up in this new world and body. The forest around you stays thick and silent, no one in sight but trees and animals. Your bare skin still has nothing to cover it.

Ahead on the unfamiliar path, a slime appears. It looks like a blue ball, its body trembling slightly. Even without eyes, you can feel the threat radiating off it. The weakest of monsters, but still a danger to a level-1 bunny girl with no weapon and no clothes. It crawls closer, blocking the way forward.

Your actions?

[Bunnykin Runt] [Level 1] [10/100 EXP] [HP: 20/20] [MP: 0/0]

It's been six days since the reincarnation. The small city Heronshalt rises around you in low stone buildings and packed-earth streets. After the deep forest, the noise is overwhelming. Cart wheels, haggling voices, a hammer on an anvil somewhere. You tug the rough brown cloak tighter around your shoulders. It's the only thing you're wearing. You found it in the woods a few days back. Beneath the cloak, you're still naked.

You've grown aa bit stronger since waking up. Level 7 now. Your body is tougher, your senses sharper, your reflexes quicker. But you still look like a Bunnykin Runt. Still no magic. No weapon. No money.

The Adventurers' Guild sits on the corner of the market square. A wooden sign over the door shows a crossed sword and quiver. You push inside. The main hall smells of stale beer and old sweat. Mercenaries cluster around tables. A board on the far wall is pinned with paper quests. Behind the reception counter stands a woman in her thirties, auburn hair tied back, a ledger open in front of her.

She glances up as you approach. Her eyes flick to your ears, your bare feet. Her expression stays professionally neutral.

"What can I do for you, dear?"

[Bunnykin Runt] [Level 7] [50/100 EXP] [HP: 32/32] [MP: 0/0]

Eight days since reincarnation. You reached the city recently. First stop was the Adventurers' Guild. The clerk took your details without looking up. You received a copper tag with a stamped number on it. Member of the Heronshalt Guild. Officially an adventurer. Unofficially, a joke. The clerk's polite smile didn't reach her eyes. A mercenary at the next counter looked at you, then at the tag, and snorted.

You spent your last few coppers from monster kills at the market: the cheapest dress in the city, brown linen, knee-length, and a copper dagger, dull and short, the kind market women use to cut twine.

Then you walked out the gates and started hunting. Your level climbed until you reached 10. "Evolution available. Bunnykin Rogue." The only visual change is that you've become a few centimeters taller.

It's time to get stronger, so you head into the dungeon. A wooden board above the entrance reads: "HERONSHALT DUNGEON"

A bored-looking guard waves you through without a word. The path slopes down into torch-lit dark.

Inside, the air is cool and damp. Stone steps spiral down. You can hear water dripping somewhere below, and faint scuttling sounds. Your new Rogue instincts prickle at every shadow. You reach the bottom of the stairs. A low stone corridor stretches ahead, torches guttering on the walls. Your grip tightens on the copper dagger.

Floor 1.

[Bunnykin Rogue] [Level 10] [0/150 EXP] [HP: 50/50] [MP: 0/0]

Three weeks since reincarnation. One week at the Velvet Ear. One week as a prostitute.

The guild work nearly killed you. A hobgoblin on a forest patrol quest broke your ribs and your copper dagger in the same swing. The guild healers patched you up for free, but the clerk stopped assigning you quests.

Two weeks of slime kills and gutter rats got you nowhere. Then a soft-spoken woman in green silk approached you in the market. Madam Velvet. She ran a brothel on Silk Lane and offered you work as a prostitute. Room, board, three meals a day, and a cut of every client. You said yes before she finished the sentence.

The Velvet Ear is smaller than you expected. Six girls, two boys, all prostitutes, plus Madam Velvet and the bouncer, a scarred orc woman named Gruul. Your room is a pallet in a shared loft with two other demi-human girls, a fox and a cat. The first time a client fucked you was strange. The second was less strange. The third was just work. Sex gave you XP. Your level climbed faster than it ever had in the forest.

It happened on your sixth evening, right after a client left your room. The flat voice in your head: "Evolution available. Bunnykin Concubine."

The only visual change was your hips. They widened slightly. Your scent shifted too. Lighter. Sweeter. You opened your profile. The trait line had updated itself. "+20% XP from sexually pleasing someone."

It's now your seventh evening at the Velvet Ear. You're wearing a thin cotton nightgown, nothing underneath. The hall is filling up. You can hear Madam Velvet greeting the first clients downstairs, the clink of cups, the soft laughter of the other girls. Your first client of the night will be at your door within the hour, you are sitting on the bed.

[Bunnykin Concubine] [Level 12] [75/150 EXP] [HP: 40/40] [MP: 0/0]

Four weeks since reincarnation. Almost four weeks as a slave.

You were captured on your second day in this world. Still naked, still confused. You stumbled out of the forest onto a dirt road and met a man with a cart and a rope. He didn't ask questions. He just tied your wrists, threw you in the back, and sold you soon.

You've been on the farmstead of Marrow Holt ever since. He owns you. The iron collar around your neck says so. You sleep in the tool shed with one other beastkin slave, a goat-girl named Pitch with flat eyes. You wake at dawn. You work the fields until dark and eat whatever slop Marrow's wife throws in a trough.

The work gave you XP, so you hit level 10 two nights ago. Bunnykin Farmhand. The visual change was small. Hands rougher, calluses deeper. Faint brown tint at the tips of your white hair. You also gained 5 MP and +15% XP from harvesting and farming.

It's midday. The sun is high. You're lying on your back in the wheat field. Your dirty white cotton dress is hiked up to your thighs. The iron collar is hot against your neck. The goat-girl is a few rows over, doing the same. You both just lay down when the sun got too high. Marrow's son never checks the fields at midday. He's drunk by now.

You could probably sleep here for an hour before anyone notices.

[Bunnykin Farmhand] [Level 11] [40/150 EXP] [HP: 45/45] [MP: 5/5]