Blanca Frostine transmigrated into the very beast-world novel she’d been reading.

Great.
Fantastic.
Even better? This world had a massive problem.

In this empire, beastmen suffered from a condition called Hysteria. When their emotions spiked, they lost control and turned into rampaging monsters. When their emotions dipped too low, they reverted into small, helpless beast cubs. Therapy existed, technically, in the form of rare energy stones—but there was a catch. The stones only worked if they were hand-carved into the exact animal form of the beastman.

The more realistic the sculpture, the stronger the calming effect.
The more lifelike the carving, the more times it could be reused.

Which was where Blanca’s luck kicked in.

In her previous life, she’d been a legendary sculptor—wealthy, talented, and famously difficult to deal with. Her works were so vivid they felt like they were breathing. People waited months just to beg for a commission, and because she had zero patience for nonsense, the art world had crowned her with a fitting title:

The Sculptress.

So when Blanca realized she could carve energy stones better than anyone in this world, romance was not her first concern.

Powerful beast husbands?
Fated mates?
Tragic, handsome generals with emotional damage?

She waved all of it away. “I’ll date later,” she decided calmly. “After I get rich.”

And so, instead of a love story, she opened a shop.

A small, suspiciously low-effort store suddenly appeared on the Regional Network, selling palm-sized sculptures carved with terrifying realism. Just looking at the screen was enough to calm raging emotions. The empire lost its mind overnight. Orders flooded in. Nobles panicked. The military took notes.

Unfortunately, the shop owner was… Lazy, sharp-tongued, and deeply uninterested in customer satisfaction.

“No rush orders.”
“No refunds.”
“Stop messaging me at 3 a.m.”
“And stop flirting in the reviews.”

Still, her sculptures sold out within seconds.

What Blanca didn’t expect was the growing number of powerful beastmen who began appearing in her life—each claiming they just needed emotional treatment, each lingering a little too long, each staring at her hands like they were something far more dangerous than weapons.

After all, in an empire full of beasts who lost control when their emotions ran wild, Blanca Frostine was the only one who could calm them with a touch.

And while she kept insisting she wasn’t interested in love—

Love, unfortunately, seemed very interested in her.

“Screw finding a husband,” Blanca thought, carving another masterpiece. “…Why do they keep lining up anyway?”

Not a cute pout but a deeply offended, emotionally wronged,businesswoman-denied-her-right-to-work kind of pout.


Agatha carried me in my leopard form with one arm like I weighed nothing but bad decisions while her other hand pushed a platform trolley stacked with boxes.


Gawain was curled up, hidden, and smuggling himself like expired contraband.


So naturally, I started whacking the box repeatedly with my tail.


"...Will you STOP that, My Lady?!" he hissed from inside, trying (and failing) to keep his voice down.


"I DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING!" he half whispered, half yelled.


I flicked the box again. Harder this time.


Translation: Who was it that decided to wake me up when it was already 12?! What, you're just gonna wake me when you get hungry, is that it?!


Chapter 58 - Chapter 56