I Became a Little Tiger?

Cold. Suffocating.

And the strange sensation of being wrapped in thick fur.

Lin Mo's consciousness struggled up from a chaotic darkness. The first thing he felt was a furry paw, slightly muddy and smelling of milk, planted firmly on his face, nearly pressing his entire head into the rough hay beneath him.

"Mm... damn... who... this early in the morning..."

He instinctively tried to curse, but his throat only produced a weak, hoarse, peculiar sound somewhere between a whimper and a cough. It wasn't human speech at all.

The suffocation grew worse. His instinct to survive made him jerk up his limp, powerless "hand" and shove the heavy paw off his face.

"Haah—huff—"

He sucked in great gulps of air and opened his eyes in confusion.

Then he froze.

He wasn't looking at the familiar ceiling of his dorm room or the rows of bookshelves in the library. Instead, he saw shifting stripes of orange and black in varying shades. Several furry, round bodies pressed and jostled around him. The air was thick with animal musk, the smell of fermenting hay, and... a faint hint of milk.

He turned his stiff neck and looked at the "hand" he'd just used to push the paw away.

It wasn't a hand.

It was a paw covered in white fur, with pink pads and soft-looking toes tipped with the first hints of sharp, translucent claws... a tiger's paw.

Lin Mo: "???"

He abruptly lowered his head. The same slightly dirty white fur covered a small, round body, but he was so thin he could feel his ribs.

This wasn't a dream!

He twisted around as if shocked, trying to see himself. Standing on all fours felt horribly awkward, and a long tail marked with black rings swept unconsciously, swatting at the hay.

Stumbling and rolling, he made his way to the edge of the enclosure. There was a rough trough there for the animals to drink from, with a few scraps of grass floating on the water.

A blurry young animal's face stared back at him from the surface.

A round head. The markings on its forehead hadn't fully come in yet. Its amber eyes should have been wild, but right now they were filled with shock, confusion, and stupidity. What nearly stopped his heart was the pair of symmetrical, thumbnail-sized bumps on his back, bulging slightly through the white fur. They looked unnatural.

"Rooar—!" (Holy shit!)

A tiny, frightened tiger growl burst from his throat.

He wasn't human anymore!

He'd turned into a tiger! A... white tiger that didn't look quite normal? What were those two things on his back? Tumors? A deformity?

A flood of fragmented memories crashed into his mind: the dizziness of staying up all night studying in the library, the sudden, crushing pain in his chest... and then darkness.

So... had he died suddenly? Then transmigrated into... a tiger cub?

"Raoo!" (What kind of hellish start is this?!)

His inner collapse surged like a tsunami, pouring out as a string of "awoo" sounds he couldn't even understand himself. He, Lin Mo, a diligent (occasionally slacking) college student from the twenty-first century, a future wage-slave in the making—how had he ended up like this? Other people transmigrated as underdogs who rose to greatness or noble young masters. He'd gone straight across species! He wasn't even human anymore!

As he grappled with the shock of his new identity, a force slammed into him from the side and sent him staggering.

The culprit was an orange-and-black cub a full size bigger than him. It glanced at him with naked rejection and contempt in its amber eyes, then growled as if chasing away something filthy.

Only then did Lin Mo fully come to his senses and take a proper look at his "kind."

There were five or six cubs in all. Every one of them had sleek, healthy fur with the standard orange-and-black jungle pattern. Though they were only about two or three months old, they were already beginning to look like fierce predators. Their play-fighting and biting carried real strength.

Except for him.

His white fur made him stand out painfully among the "normal" cubs. Because he was different, he'd been isolated in a corner of the enclosure—and even stepped on just now. He looked down at his scrawny body, then at his round "brothers," and understood at once.

No wonder he was so weak! He'd been bullied and kept from getting food!

The animal kingdom was that blunt? Just because his fur was a different color?

The crushing pressure of survival instantly overpowered his horror at transmigrating and his urge to complain.

Survive! First, he had to stay alive!

Just then, his sensitive nose caught the source of that milky scent. At the other end of the enclosure, a rough, shallow stone trough held more than half a trough of milky-white liquid, wafting

with an aroma. Several sturdy cubs crowded around it, heads down as they lapped away with contented little grunts.

Hunger swept through his stomach and mind like flames.

Human dignity? A college student's pride? In the face of survival, it was all bullshit!

"Rooar!"

Lin Mo gave himself an encouraging growl (though it still sounded like a baby's squeak), then charged toward the stone trough on all fours!

His small body summoned a shocking burst of potential. Like a white bullet, he raced unsteadily but with purpose toward the "milk supply."

"Thump!"

He rammed his head and shoulder into the crowd, forcing a gap and squeezing among the furry bodies. Disgruntled, threatening growls immediately rose around him. Claws even began scratching at his back and flank.

It hurt! The pain burned!

But Lin Mo couldn't afford to care! He plunged his head into the trough and lapped greedily, frantically.

The milk had a strong, gamey smell and didn't taste all that good. But the moment it reached his empty stomach, a warm energy seemed to spread through his limbs, easing some of his weakness and chill.

It was delicious! It was ambrosia!

He swallowed with all his might, stopping at nothing, while bracing his little body firmly against the ones trying to shove him aside.

In the struggle, an especially strong cub seemed angered by his "cheek." It growled, opened its mouth, and lunged for Lin Mo's foreleg!

Lin Mo instinctively tried to pull his paw back, but his body reacted half a beat too slowly—or perhaps his human fighting instincts hadn't yet adapted to this body.

"Rip—"

A sharp pain shot through his foreleg. The other cub's baby teeth weren't very sharp, but it bit down with all its strength, tearing through his white fur and leaving several bloody scratches.

At almost the same moment, deep inside Lin Mo, a faint warmth suddenly welled up. Like a tiny stream, it flowed along his injured foreleg.

Wherever it passed, the pain seemed to lessen slightly, and an indescribable, instinctive craving quietly arose—not a craving for milk, but for... something inside the other cub, something that had come from the bite?

The warmth vanished in a flash, so quickly it might have been a trick of the imagination.

But Lin Mo's lapping abruptly stopped, and his amber eyes went wide.

What... was that?

An injury... warmth... a craving...

An unbelievable thought exploded in his mind like a clap of thunder.

Could this... be my cheat?