Reincarnated as a Princess's Pet: With Trash Stats, but SSS-Rank Skill

Elanor walked a few steps ahead of Max through one of the castle corridors.

The walls were tall, decorated with fine tapestries and crystal lamps that floated gently in the air. Everything was too clean. Too big. Too real.

She stopped in front of a double door made of light-colored wood.

Before opening it, Max saw the sign.

Neatly carved, with golden letters:

"Royal Pet"

He froze.

Staring at it.

Reading it again, just in case he’d misunderstood.

"Royal. Pet."

’Great.’

’New life.’

’New world.’

’New title.’

’A joke.’

Elanor opened the door naturally.

"This will be your room, Max."

He stepped inside almost automatically.

The room was enormous.

A bed that looked big enough for three people, long curtains letting daylight in, a fireplace, empty shelves, a wide table by a window overlooking the palace’s inner garden, a mirror that covered almost an entire wall.

It was bigger than his entire apartment.

Much bigger than the room where he’d spent years playing video games.

And yet...

He felt a strange emptiness in his chest.

’I miss my computer.’

A short, bitter laugh escaped him.

Elanor watched him with a small, proud smile.

"Abby will bring the clothes Sophie prepared for you soon," she said. "You can wait here comfortably."

Max nodded.

"Alright. Thank you."

The princess walked to the door, turned for a moment, and looked at him again.

"If you need anything... let me know."

And she left.

The door closed softly.

Silence fell all at once.

Max let out a breath.

"...Okay."

He slowly walked up to the mirror.

It was huge. Full-length, with an ornate silver frame.

He looked at himself.

Pajamas.

Tired face.

Same old him.

He leaned forward slightly, examining himself.

"Tail...?"

Nothing.

He checked his teeth.

"Fangs...?"

Normal.

He ran a hand through his hair, turning his body slightly.

"Anything weird...?"

Nothing.

He looked at his ears.

Human.

He thought about Elanor’s. Long, elegant.

He thought about Sophie’s. Furry, moving.

"I’m still me."

He twisted his body, lifting part of his pajamas to look at his back, stretching awkwardly in front of the mirror.

And then—

He heard a laugh.

"Pfft—"

Max jumped backward.

"WHAT—?!"

He spun around.

The door was open.

And leaning against the frame was a girl clearly enjoying the scene.

She was laughing.

A lot.

"Don’t you know how to knock?!" Max blurted out, red to the tips of his ears.

She raised an eyebrow, amused.

"It was open."

"That’s not the point!"

She took a step forward, still smiling.

"Nice to meet you. I’m Abby."

She lifted the arm holding a neatly folded set of clothes.

"And this is for you."

Max took the clothes carefully.

"Ah... thank you very much."

Abby looked him up and down, a clearly teasing smile on her face.

"Want me to help you get dressed?"

Max choked on his own saliva.

"No! No, no—I can do it myself."

"Sure," she said, amused.

Only then did Max really look at her.

And he realized.

A tail.

Shorter.

Hairless.

Moving slowly.

And when he looked up—

Horns.

Curved.

Perfectly integrated into her dark hair.

Max blinked.

Once.

Twice.

’Okay.’

’Calm down.’

’Breathe.’

’It’s normal.’

’This world is weird.’

’But...’

’She’s a demon.’

Abby noticed his expression and smiled even wider.

"Those faces of yours never disappoint."

She turned halfway around, walking toward the door.

"See you later," she said without looking back.

And before leaving, she added:

"Royal pet."

The door closed.

Max stood still in the middle of the room.

Clothes in hand.

Staring into nothing.

"I need to sit down."

***

Max finished changing in silence.

The black pants fit him surprisingly well. Not tight, not hanging loose. The white long-sleeved shirt was simple, with a few buttons at the chest and soft fabric that didn’t itch or bother him. The leather boots were comfortable, though he still wasn’t used to wearing boots.

He looked at himself in the mirror again.

"Okay."

He didn’t look like a noble.

But he didn’t look like a disaster either.

On the bed lay the collar.

A small metal plate, his name carefully engraved.

Max

He picked it up between his fingers.

Looked at it.

Felt a stab of embarrassment.

"No."

He tied it around his wrist like a bracelet and pulled his sleeve down to hide it.

’Much better.’

He took a deep breath.

There was a knock at the door.

"Max?" a female voice called from outside.

He opened it.

Elanor was there, wearing a long white dress with gold and green details along the edges, her red hair partially tied back.

When she saw him—

She blinked.

"Oh."

Max stiffened.

"Is it bad?"

She quickly shook her head.

"No, no. Just... it looks good on you."

Max looked away, uncomfortable.

"Thanks."

Elanor smiled, satisfied.

"Come. Dinner has already started."

They walked together through the lit corridors. This time, Max noticed more stares. Maids, nobles, guards.

Some curious.

Others amused.

And more than a few clearly evaluating him.

’Excellent.’

’Social debut.’

The royal dining hall was enormous.

A very long table, fine dishes, crystal glasses, food that smelled way too good.

The king was already seated.

Two nobles at his sides.

Sophie was nearby, helping serve.

Abby... too.

When she saw him enter—

She smiled.

A lot.

Max pretended not to see her.

Elanor took her seat and pointed to a chair beside her.

"There."

Max sat carefully. He was nervous.

The king observed him for a moment.

"I see the clothes are ready."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Max replied automatically.

"Comfortable," he added afterward, feeling weird for clarifying.

The king nodded.

"Good."

The food began to be served.

Max looked at the plates cautiously.

’Okay.’

’Not poisoned.’

’Probably.’

He took a bite.

His eyes widened slightly.

"...This is really good."

Elanor laughed softly.

"I’m glad. Bertha made it—our royal cook. You’ll meet her soon."

For a moment, everything was... normal.

Soft conversations.

Light laughter.

Until one of the nobles spoke.

"So, can he really speak our language?"

Max swallowed.

Before he could answer, Elanor spoke.

"Yes. And better than some elves."

The noble raised an eyebrow.

"Interesting for a pet."

Max tightened his grip on the fork.

The king spoke, sharply.

"Be careful what you say."

Silence.

Max let out a slow breath.

’Thanks... I guess.’

Abby passed nearby to pour wine.

She leaned slightly toward him.

In a low voice:

"Nice bracelet."

Max almost choked.

He looked at her.

She winked and laughed.

Then moved on.

Elanor glanced at him.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Perfect."

A lie.

But a functional one.

Max lowered his gaze to his plate and kept eating, trying to ignore the pressure he felt in the air. The murmur slowly returned to the table. Glasses clinking softly. Cutlery. Conversations resuming carefully.

Then—

A sharp sound.

Clack.

Max looked up just in time to see one of the nobles—a pale-skinned elf with dark brown hair—drop his glass. Wine spilled across the white tablecloth.

The noble blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"...What...?" he murmured.

And collapsed forward.

His body hit the table heavily before sliding to the floor.

The dining hall fell into absolute silence.

"What happened?!" someone shouted.

Chairs scraped back abruptly. Sophie dropped the tray she was carrying. Abby rushed over immediately, her expression no longer teasing.

"Call a healer!" a voice ordered.