The Absolutely Massive Salamander

The next morning.

The farm work wrapped up around nine. I pulled off my straw hat and dusted it against my palm, then slowly straightened a back gone stiff from crouching so long to pull weeds. The ache ran all the way up into my neck, and when I rolled my head ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a few times the joints answered with a dry crack.

"Ungh."

I put the hand hoe away in the shed, tugged the straw hat back down, and headed for the house.

Meeeem. Meeeem. Meeeem.

It was still morning, but the sun already had a bite to it, and nameless weeds grew thick along the roadside. Hardly anyone used the path, so the quiet held—except for the far-off putter of a cultivator, and the grasshoppers that flicked up out of the grass at my feet every time I passed.

In the still water gathered along the edge of the irrigation canal, the surrounding grass and the sky showed clear as glass.

Get home, wash up, and go straight to sleep. If I wake up around four like usual, that ought to be fine.

I was trudging along with that thought when something black and long slid into the corner of my vision, right there in the irrigation canal beside the farm road.

"Huh?"

I took a few more steps, stopped, and looked back. Wedged among the stones and fallen leaves was something shaped like a wet branch. At first I figured it really was just a stick.

It twitched.

"......What."

I walked two steps back and crouched at the edge of the canal. A black body, short legs, and a tail trailing long behind it—once I saw that much, there was no mistaking it. A salamander.

"Whoa."

My mouth fell open before I knew it. Even with me right there, the salamander stayed stuck beside the rock and didn't move, so I settled my elbows on my knees and just watched for a while. Up close the body was surprisingly plump, and the tail was long. I'd spotted salamanders in the canal a few times before, but I didn't think any of them had been this big.

Do they normally get this big?

After a brief hesitation I pulled my phone from my pocket, opened the camera, held it out over the canal, snapped one shot, and checked the screen.

Hmm.

The salamander had come out much smaller than I'd expected. I pinched the screen open to zoom, then framed the shot more carefully. This time it sat nicely near the center.

Click.

I zoomed in on the photo once, then looked back toward the canal. One more, just to be sure.

"Sir. Please hold still."

I held the phone upright, decided that felt awkward, turned it sideways, and leaned a little farther over the canal so the salamander and the waterway would both fit in the frame.

Click.

"Oh."

This one was the best. Once I'd saved the photo, my thoughts drifted, naturally enough, to the stream.

The viewers would love this.

An absolutely massive salamander. I checked the photo one more time.

"Hehe."

Satisfied, I slipped the phone back into my pocket and stood.

Six that evening.

I brought up the avatar and switched on the mic the way I always did, and the moment the stream went live the chat started moving, as if it had been waiting.

"Hello, everyone. Good evening."

In the corner of the screen, the black-haired Ttutta avatar flapped its mouth along with my voice. Tip my head even a little and it flopped way too far; blink, and the eyes sometimes followed a beat late. It was a free Ttutta, but by now I was used to it.

"Aigo! DaycareLollipopThiefMingjwe~~ Ten thousand won for Bangul-i's kibble!!"

DaycareLollipopThiefMingjwe. A Time Bill Gates of a viewer, in the stream ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠without fail from the moment I went live until the moment I ended it. That nickname still floored me every single time I read it.

"Um, I'm always really grateful, but I did not steal any daycare lollipops."

"Bangul-i's food... I don't steal it. I did taste it once when I was little, because I was curious."

"No, I really only tasted it. It tasted bad, so I spit it out right away."

Just then the phone I'd left on the desk buzzed. I looked down. A deposit notification—my share for helping Grandma with the farm work through this morning, by the look of it.

"Oh."

I checked the screen and said, without much thought:

"The money I made Rice-Farming just came in."

"Nooo~ I'm not a rice ape."

I shook my head from side to side. The avatar did the same little no-no-no.

"It's money from actually selling rice. My family farms."

"Yeah, I live in the countryside. Did you guys know it takes a forty-minute walk just to reach a convenience store? And if you don't pay the remote-area delivery fee, they won't deliver at all."

I'd lived out here since I was little, so none of it felt special to me, but to people hearing it for the first time it seemed to be quite the story.

"Sadly, we don't have any of that."

Watching the chat, I suddenly remembered the photo from this morning.

"Oh, right."

I picked up my phone and opened the album.

"On the way back from helping Grandma with the farming today, I took a picture of an absolutely massive salamander. Wanna see?"

Out of the shots I'd taken that morning, angling it over and over, I picked the best one and sent it to the computer. A moment later the photo of the salamander, irrigation canal and all, came up in the middle of the screen.

"It's huge, right?"

I zoomed in a little. The salamander was one thing, but looking again, the canal behind it had been captured quite long, and quite wide. Just then the door eased open. I turned my head, and Grandma came in carrying a plate of fruit, peeled and cut into easy bites. She set it down beside the desk, glanced at the monitor, and asked:

"You on the broadcast?"

"Aigoo...... 'Give me your grandbaby,' they're sayin'."

Grandma clicked her tongue once and looked at the chat.

"Y'all's families doin' all right? Less you own a place in Seoul, I ain't takin' you."

"That alone ain't gonna do it. You got any idea how pretty my little brat is? You can't hold all that in some coal-briquette-haired cartoon hide. She decides she wants to get married, the line'll run from Seoul clear to Busan."

"Ahem."

My throat itched for no good reason, so I cleared it once and pulled the fruit plate a little closer.

"Thank you for the fruit. I'll enjoy it."

Grandma watched me pick up the fork, then pointed at the plate.

"Don't leave any. Eat all of it."

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded at my answer, turned, and left the room. I put a piece of fruit in my mouth and shifted my eyes back to the monitor.