Could someone really be that happy over a piece of bread?
To a stranger, it might seem like a bizarre scene. But not to Cheon Dowoon.
‘I know that feeling.’
Something of my own. My own house. My own place.
Having something completely yours is a joyful thing. Even more so if it’s the reward of your hard work.
Cheon Dowoon looked at Kim Nari, then tore open a piece of bread for himself.
“You’re eating too, mister?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I sit next to you and eat?”
“Sure.”
Kim Nari trotted over and sat beside him.
A small chimera and a large chimera. Both with similar pasts, sitting side by side, eating bread.
* * *
Thanks to Kim Nari’s help, the field was completed quickly. Transplanting the Mandragoras into it was an easy task.
Cheon Dowoon placed both hands on the soil of the field. As he infused mana into the ground, the pot far away rattled.
– Fwoooong!
With a *pop*, the Mandragoras peeked out and looked around. Once they located the source of the mana, they jumped out of the pot.
– Fwoooong!
– Fwoong, fwoong.
The Mandragoras raced to the field, tapping the soil with their rootlets as if inspecting it.
They huddled together and began their signature humming.
Unlike when they were in the pot, their reaction this time was completely different. Their pale green leaves danced joyfully. The rootlets moved without rest.
– Fwoooong!
Once their discussion ended, they spaced themselves out and burrowed into the ground.
The roots quickly disappeared beneath the soil, leaving only their leafy tops swaying in the breeze.
“Looks like they’re adjusting well. I’ll have to feed them mana occasionally until they’re fully settled.”
Cheon Dowoon dusted off his hands and stood up. Kim Nari, having watched it all, wore an amazed expression.
“So there really are plants that move. That’s amazing. What’s it called?”
“Mandragora.”
Kim Nari’s eyes sparkled with excitement like a child recognizing something familiar.
“It’s the same name as a herb I know.”
“What kind of herb?”
“One that shows up in auctions sometimes. I was taught that it helps when an Awakened person’s mana hole gets tangled.”
“You’ve learned correctly. That’s the one.”
Thrilled, Kim Nari suddenly froze. She looked back and forth between Cheon Dowoon and the Mandragoras, eyes wide.
“That’s a Mandragora?”
“Yeah.”
“Then… this is the super expensive herb?”
Cheon Dowoon chuckled at the word “weed.” Realizing that meant yes, Kim Nari looked utterly shocked.
“Ma-gye native people are amazing. You’re rich, mister!”
“Rich? Nah. If I don’t sell them, they’re just humming weeds.”
Even if he ever returned to the human world, Cheon Dowoon had no plans to sell them. He’d simply brought them because he thought they’d be suitable for the field.
He smiled as he looked at the field taking shape. It filled him with a quiet pride.
A rare moment of peace—until it was broken by the cry of a monster from somewhere in the forest.
Kim Nari immediately stood up and looked toward the sound.
“Five hundred meters ahead. Multiple monsters’ cries.”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like a group is attacking one.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just monsters hunting.”
Such things were common in the Demon Realm. Cheon Dowoon didn’t care, but Kim Nari’s face grew more concerned with each cry.
“It sounds like it’s in pain.”
“Of course it is.”
“The cry changed. I think it got bitten.”
“Wouldn’t be surprising. Probably getting eaten soon.”
Usually, such things didn’t merit concern. Cheon Dowoon was about to say as much, but stopped.
This was the Demon Realm. Monster hunts were a daily affair—part of the natural order.
‘Come to think of it, this isn’t the first time we’ve heard something like that nearby.’
He’d never paid attention before, so why was Kim Nari so anxious now?
Watching her reactions, Cheon Dowoon asked,
“You know whatever that is?”
Knowing a monster sounded strange, but he couldn’t think of another reason.
“I don’t *know* it. But I’ve seen it before. It’s a small monster. I ran into it a few days ago.”
“And?”
“It looked pitiful. Like it had no energy.”
“And?”
Faced with the repeated questioning, Kim Nari closed her mouth.
She clearly wanted to say something. But the words wouldn’t come.
‘Wants to help, huh. But can’t say it.’
Despite appearances, Kim Nari was a chimera made for combat. If she really wanted to help, she could’ve just gone and done it.
Cheon Dowoon figured out why she was hesitating.
‘Conditioning. She’s afraid of acting without orders.’
The hallmark of a test subject raised under strict control. Kim Nari was scared to choose for herself.
She was waiting for Cheon Dowoon to give the go-ahead.
“You want to save it?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t.”
With that cool statement, Kim Nari’s face crumpled. She stomped her feet and looked at the source of the cries.
“If we don’t, it’ll die.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Sure is. If only someone helped it, maybe it’d survive.”
At those words, Kim Nari paced in circles, glancing nervously at Cheon Dowoon.
How had she even escaped the lab with that kind of personality? Cheon Dowoon let out a bitter smile.
A child who had just barely escaped the shadow of the lab.
Time to give her a little nudge.
“You could save it. Want to at least go check the situation?”
“I-I’ll be right back!”
With her answer, Kim Nari vanished. All that remained were deep footprints in the ground.
So fast she was gone from sight in an instant.
‘Quick. She must be a speed-type.’
She was the same one who overwhelmed five B-Class Hunters with ease. She could handle this herself.
Cheon Dowoon calmly followed in the direction of the cries.
* * *
By the time he arrived, it was already over.
The ground was littered with dead giant stag beetles. In the center stood Kim Nari, holding a small silver-gray monster.
“Mister! It won’t wake up.”
Kim Nari ran over, almost in tears. The creature in her arms was limp and unconscious.
Fluffy fur. Round body. Tiny wings.
‘What is that? Looks familiar. Where have I seen it before?’
Cheon Dowoon studied the monster.
It was the size of a soccer ball. Beneath its fur were horse-like legs.
Tiny, chick-like wings stuck out from its sides.
“Ah… Right. I remember now. That thing.”
Cheon Dowoon looked at the pelt he was wearing. This monster was the same undead-type one he’d skinned earlier.
His pelt was a dark gray. This monster’s fur was a silvery white.
The difference in color was likely due to poisoning, not a difference in species.
‘Back then, it was like two meters tall. Maybe this is a baby?’
Cheon Dowoon swept his mana through the creature’s body. A monster’s innate magical signature never changed—like an ID.
His eyes narrowed.
‘It’s the same one. So why is it so small now… Wait. It must’ve nearly died and come back.’
His hunch was spot-on.
Though the skinning had saved it, the poison had still spread through its body.
In the end, the creature had to reconstruct itself—shedding the tainted parts and shrinking drastically.
Like Cheon Dowoon’s own body, yet through a slightly different process.
It survived, but its former two-meter frame had shriveled to the size of a ball.
“Mister, this thing… I mean, it…”
Kim Nari glanced up at Cheon Dowoon.
Choosing something and voicing an opinion were difficult tasks for her.
“If we leave it here, it’ll die.”
After a long pause, she clenched her teeth and said it.
“Look. It’s like injeolmi. All limp. So…”
“You want to take it with you?”
Seeing how hard it was for her, he gave her a gentle assist.
That alone was enough for Kim Nari to nod with a relieved look.
“It might still be dangerous. Just because it’s small doesn’t mean it’s not ferocious.”
“It’s okay. I’ll train it. I heard even dogs won’t bite if they’re trained properly.”
And just like that, the monster became equivalent to a puppy.
Deciding was the hard part. Once she committed, her words flowed smoothly.
‘She’s surprisingly determined. I guess that’s how she escaped the lab despite the brainwashing.’
Cheon Dowoon smiled quietly at her resolve.
“Then let’s take it with us.”
“Really? That’s okay?”
“You don’t need my permission. If you want to, just do it.”
Kim Nari looked around nervously.
She didn’t quite understand what he meant. But she held on to the monster with newfound confidence.
“I’ll take it back and care for it. But it still won’t wake up. What should I do?”
“Hmm. Its hide is tough, so I doubt it has any lethal wounds.”
Cheon Dowoon parted its fur to inspect it—but froze when he touched it.
Beneath the fur, its bones were protruding.
For a monster to be in this level of starvation, it would have had to go months without even a drop of water.
“It’s malnourished. Probably couldn’t hunt properly after shrinking.”
“Shrunk? So it used to be big?”
“Yeah. If you take good care of it, maybe it’ll regain its old strength.”
“Oooh.”
Kim Nari’s eyes sparkled. Taking in the monster lifted Cheon Dowoon’s mood as well.
‘Come to think of it, I was thinking about getting a dog to guard the field.’
A pet, in other words. He hadn’t planned for it, but this monster came in the perfect size.
“Mister. Can I name it?”
“Sure. Got something in mind?”
“I like Ppoppi. Puppies should be called Ppoppi.”
Cheon Dowoon stopped in his tracks.
Giving a name like Ppoppi to this monster didn’t feel right.
Even though he’d never named a pet before, he had enough sense to stop her.
“Ppoppi… Hmm. Let’s think about the name once we get back. You shouldn’t name things on impulse. It’s something to be thoughtful about.”
“Thoughtful?”
“Yeah. If the name’s weird, it might grow up with a twisted personality.”
Kim Nari’s eyes trembled.
“Is that… true?”
“Of course. Totally. There’s actually a case like that.”
Cheon Dowoon thought of his real name.
His current name was given by the orphanage director. His birth name had been different.
He was abandoned as a baby in front of the orphanage, wrapped in a blanket with a note.
「We will come for him without fail.」
Next to that line, a name: “Wonman” (lit. “smooth” or “peaceful”).
A strange but harmless name. That is, until combined with his surname.
「Cheon Wonman? What kind of name is that? Should we rename him?」
[No. His parents might actually come looking. Maybe they gave him a weird name on purpose to make him easier to find.]
[Hmm… True. In the slums, it’s hard to find lost kids. A name like that would make him easier to search for.]
And so he lived for eight years as Cheon Wonman.
The director finally changed it when he turned eight—because of the trouble the name caused.
[Director, we need to change Wonman’s name. The kids keep calling him a beggar.]
[And every time, he smashes someone’s head with a brick. He’s already weird as it is. Someone’s gonna die at this rate.]
So at age eight, he became Cheon Dowoon.
‘Names matter. No doubt about it.’
Honestly, he didn’t even like “Dowoon” that much. Why should he help heaven’s cause? He just wanted to live quietly.
But he didn’t change it—because it was the last connection to his life as a human.
It wasn’t about nostalgia. He just didn’t want to let go of that final trace.
“Anyway. Let’s think of a proper name once we’re back. Something that suits the monster.”
“Got it. I’ll think carefully.”
Kim Nari echoed Cheon Dowoon’s words.
And even in its unconscious state, the monster—spared from being named Ppoppi—looked visibly relieved.
