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"Sometimes, I hear people say, 'It's just a name; why make a big deal out of it?' Those who make such claims clearly don’t understand how much of a privilege it is to be addressed in the way you wish."

"Birch, cherry blossom, pieris, beech, azalea, flamboyant, fringe tree, lilac, palash..." I hummed a lively tune in my mind, weaving it from the plants around me, letting the melody of their scents play on.

"This is podocarpus. You can smell its leaves..."

Today was the department's introductory field trip, with senior students explaining the local flora to familiarize the freshmen with the low mountain environment around the school and with academic fieldwork.

At Normal University, the biology department is primarily divided into two tracks: evolutionary ecology and molecular biology. As a renowned institution specializing in taxonomy in the Central Nation, the ecology professors are well-known, naturally attracting outstanding students.

I tried to socialize, but the bristling fur incident during the first general biology class seemed to have scared off quite a few nature animals. During conversations, they emitted scents of awkwardness and fear, distracting me so much that meaningful discussions became impossible.

Honestly, just raising my fur isn’t the same as baring my fangs. Is it really necessary to overreact like this? After hitting a few walls, I was half-resigned, wondering why starting over felt so difficult.

Ayaan, on the other hand, effortlessly chatted with everyone, drawing laughter from various animals. To hide the faint embarrassment of feeling left out, I forced my ears to perk up and shifted my focus to the surrounding environment.

I took a deep breath.

The scents of plants and insects blended together, creating the overall aroma of the forest, much like how the scents of animals combine to form the essence of a vast society.

Thanks to somebeast’s fondness for insects, we often visited various nature reserves during my younger years. The unique odors of the creatures in these environments formed a memory library, enabling me to name almost every species here.

But strictly speaking, the names we call them aren’t their true names. Setting aside unverifiable claims about True Names bestowed by the Rex, currently discovered species in the world have their own distinct names: scientific names.

Typically assigned by the author who first describes them, these names are based on Latin—a language that is no longer in use and thus static—and follow the binomial nomenclature. In cases of variants or subspecies, the specific name might consist of more than two words, but generally, it includes a genus name, representing the biological classification, and a species name, usually an adjective or noun highlighting a distinctive feature.

For instance, Canis lupus: "Canis," the genus for dogs, and "lupus," meaning wolf, form the scientific name of the gray wolf. Or Melastoma malabathricum: "Melas" (black) and "stoma" (mouth), referring to the way its fruit stains lips black, combined with "Malabar," the region of distribution, give the scientific name of the Indian rhododendron.

The purpose of using scientific names is to avoid multiple names for the same species or the same name referring to different species, which could cause communication or practical referencing issues. Although rules have evolved over time, the basic principles remain consistent.

Some taxonomists once suggested assigning numbers to all species instead of using binomial nomenclature to avoid the biases introduced by names. While naming species after notable scholars is acceptable, issues arise when nationalism gets involved. It becomes awkward, for instance, when an adorable plump insect bears the name of a genocidal perpetrator.

Incidentally, somebeast once named a new species of stag beetle from the Black Forest, shamelessly using his position for personal gain.

Why is calling a species by the right name so important? Beyond academic considerations, practical implications are significant. For instance, confusing a highly toxic plant with an edible one—or vice versa—could lead to disaster. Using the wrong plant materials in extractions for medicinal purposes might sometimes work if the species are closely related and share similar secondary metabolites. Still, this can lead to critical issues in dosage precision and production processes.

So, the name matters greatly. Being called "arctic wolf" or even the jesting "puppy" doesn’t bother me much since, technically, gray wolves, white wolves, and puppies all fall under Canis lupus. Using those names interchangeably—loosely or strictly—depends on your perspective.

But if you call a fully gray-furred wolf "big white wolf," would that mean a white-furred wolf covered in mud becomes "big dirty wolf"? This only scratches the surface of the naming complexities within the same species. The situation between different species, such as Asian and African elephants, presents another layer of challenges.

"Alright, brats, time to head back! Don’t get lost in the forest, because we won’t come back for you!" Massai Mara’s booming voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Ugh, another trash butterfly," he muttered, shaking his insect net and releasing the butterfly he had just caught.

Trash butterfly? I’d never heard of such a name.

"Why is it called a trash butterfly?" Apparently, some of my peers shared my curiosity, though I stayed quiet, merely listening.

"Oh, it’s because there are so many of them, just like trash," Massai Mara replied. The freshman who asked awkwardly laughed, while I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. This was way more offensive than bristling fur. Why doesn’t anyone dislike him?

Collecting rare or beautiful butterflies as trophies or for display—can that really be called love? According to conversations between Saber and Siraya, I knew Massai Mara was a member of the department’s butterfly lab and supposedly liked collecting butterfly specimens. But love takes many forms, I suppose: the love to possess the rarest and most beautiful butterflies, the love to see them flutter and shine in the sunlight, or the love to nurture them from eggs to caterpillars, through molts, pupation, and finally emergence.

Though all forms of love, they have different facets. Who am I to decide which qualifies as true love?

"It’s Magellan Birdwing! An S-tier mythical species—quick, catch it!" Massai Mara exclaimed, wildly waving an insect net twice his height as he chased after a shimmering butterfly. Several other animals besides me watched the scene with various expressions.

Alright, even if all these forms of love are valid, there are still fundamental differences in essence. Or maybe it’s precisely because of these differences that amidst all the dissimilarities, there’s a certain sameness.

That said, when I look back later, I definitely won’t admit this: Massai Mara, the short-legged lion with a fiery red mane, chasing after a butterfly with all his might, did look just a tiny bit cute.