Love 4
I wiped the newborn clean and carefully set it down beside Seol. Though exhausted, she immediately began licking the baby's face.
I had cleaned it already, but licking a hatchling's snout and face clean of the birth membrane and any lingering amniotic fluid was pure maternal instinct.
Oh! She's actually taking care of the baby herself!
Watching her, I realized Seol and Bing were lizards that raised their young—unlike most species, whose hatchlings go independent the moment they emerge. They were more like the girdled-tailed armadillo lizard that lives in family groups among the rocky crevices of arid lands, or the Solomon Islands skink, whose parents look after their young for half a year to a full year.
Most lizards, after all, are born ready to leave their mothers. They hatch looking exactly like miniature adults and can hunt for themselves right away. But peeling away the birth membrane or licking off the amniotic fluid? That was a habit more mammalian than reptilian—and it meant there was a high chance these two would raise their offspring themselves.
—Kkeuk-ku.
Just as I thought. Seol licked the baby's face with the air of someone declaring, I'm Mom. Or maybe she was simply imprinting her voice on the hatchling.
The baby answered with a cute little cry of its own.
—Kyuuut.
The two of them traded soft calls as if they were actually talking. I watched them with a fond smile, then turned my head—and found Bing staring blankly at the scene from right in front of me.
Ah. I should check the rearing pattern, too.
Bing's dazed expression reminded me that knowing the mother would rear the young was only half the story. The form that rearing took mattered just as much.
Nature offers every kind of parental care: mother only, father only, biparental, even brood parasitism. I had to know which one this was.
From the licking, the mother was clearly involved. But if only the mother raised the young, the father might get driven off until the hatchling was grown. In other words, Bing could be about to get kicked out by Seol.
Sorry, Bing. This is just part of the process. If I'm wrong, you'll just take a few hits and get chased off. It's instinct—there's nothing I can do about it.
I gently nudged Bing's frozen rump toward Seol and the baby. I needed to confirm the rearing pattern, and better to take the beating early, right?
—Kku?
Bing looked up at me, a little flustered. I pushed his rear a bit closer to the baby. Quick on the uptake, he followed Seol's lead and began licking the other cheek.
This was the critical moment that would decide Bing's fate. If it wasn't biparental care, Seol would thrash him for daring to touch the hatchling.
Oh! He's fine?
I waited. Seol showed no reaction. She neither stopped him nor pushed him away. So this was biparental care. Now both of them were licking the newborn from either side.
Parental care plus biparental rearing. The absolute best combination.
Yes! Biparental care!
Seol and Bing seemed to have the most ideal rearing pattern. Relieved that raising the little one would be no trouble, I looked at the three of them. They already made a picture-perfect little family.
After a long while of licking, the two adults finally stilled their tongues. Only then did Seolbing Jr. open its eyes for the first time and look around.
Seol and Bing's hatchling was seeing the world for the very first time.
Those sparkling black eyes reflected Seol, then Bing, then me, Hwa-eun, and Sister Seol in turn. The two women cried out, utterly helpless against the cuteness. Those eyes really were devastatingly adorable.
"It's so cute! How can it be this cute? It's like Seol and Bing shrunk down!"
"It's so pretty! I think it's the cutest beast I've ever seen!"
Even as a man I found it ridiculously cute—how much more so for Hwa-eun and Sister Seol? Both of them reached toward the hatchling as if under a spell.
"Be careful, both of you."
Caution was needed. A newly hatched lizard is still full of wild instinct. Even the relatively gentle leopard geckos and crested geckos of my previous life were usually quite fierce until they settled down a bit after hatching. Probably because the wild edge was still there and they hadn't been tamed by human hands.
I expected Seol and Bing's baby to be the same—and sure enough, the little one clamped down hard on Sister Seol's outstretched finger.
—Kyuuu!
Bit by those tiny, pitiful teeth, Sister Seol's eyes went wide and she looked at me.
"Are you all right, Sister Seol?"
Seol and Bing carried some strange ice-poison. It wouldn't kill a person, but I was a little worried the hatchling might have venom too. At my question, Sister Seol answered with a dazed look.
"I got bitten, but... I'm... happy."
The hatchling that had bitten her flinched at her reaction. Its already large eyes grew even wider. It had bitten to scold her, yet she was delighted—something a newborn simply could not understand.
Someone other than me getting bitten by a lizard and still looking that happy was a first. In a low, conspiratorial voice I shared the greatest secret of people like us.
"Sister Seol, we don't say we got bitten in a moment like this. People like us have a different way of putting it."
"Th-then what? Is there a word for this happy feeling?"
The hatchling was still latched onto her finger. I pointed at it and answered quietly.
"In our circles, we say we've been chosen."
"Ch-chosen!?"
"Yes. It means the little one has shown special interest in you."
Anyone who keeps pets knows the feeling—when you go to pick one up and a particular animal runs to you, acts friendlier, or bites you, you say you've been chosen. The moment I explained it, Sister Seol's eyes flew open.
"Ch-chosen... Yes. I was chosen..."
I wasn't about to hand the hatchling over to her, of course, but just learning the word made Sister Seol tremble with emotion. As expected of someone who loved animals—her appreciation ran deep.
Watching her, Hwa-eun thrust her own hand toward the baby.
"Th-then hurry and 'choose' me too."
No, you've already been chosen by this side...
The one person who really shouldn't be asking for that was asking for it.
—Swaaaaah.
Outside the window of my private ship, the sound of the Yangtze's current rushed past as we rode the river downstream.
I checked outside. The sun had set and darkness had fallen; only the moon shimmered on the water's surface.
We had been on the river for two days since the hatchling was born. Once we confirmed the baby was perfectly healthy, we had set out for Akyang at once.
Lizards are born essentially as miniature adults. A boat trip would be no problem. Besides, we had been asked to come as soon as possible—we could not delay any longer just because a hatchling had arrived.
"How much farther?"
"We'll be there soon, Young Master So-ryong."
I asked the sailor sent by the Jegal family. Only five days by water, and riding the Yangtze's current on a fast ship, we were almost at Akyang. It was time to head out on deck.
"I'm going out. Anyone—ah, any venomous companions—want to come along?"
I glanced into the cabin. Hyang scrambled up onto my shoulder at once.
—Tseurit!
Hyang pointed toward the deck with her antennae, urging me to take the lead. Behind us, Cho and Bin trailed after us as if they couldn't help themselves.
—Tseurreureu.
—Tseur.
Neither looked eager to go out, but they clearly couldn't leave Hyang to go alone. Yo-hwa seemed to love the hammock she had woven from her own silk; she swayed contentedly in it. Hwa-eun and Sister Seol were still locked in heated debate over a name for Seol and Bing's hatchling.
"Hwa-eun, no matter how you look at it, Naeng-i is the better name. It's pretty. 'Naeng' for cold."
"It's too much like a girl's name. It has to be Dong-i. 'Dong' for winter—the child of ice and snow should be named for winter. And as the eldest son who will carry on the line, it needs a manly name."
They were arguing over names for Seol and Bing's newborn while the person who might actually give them the baby wasn't even thinking about it. When I looked over at Cho and Bin, both of them shook their heads. Hopeless, apparently.
"Let's go."
—Tseurit.
—Tseurreureu.
—Tseut.
The three of us stepped out onto the deck for the first time in a while. A refreshing wind blew from the direction we were traveling. A light mist was beginning to form, and from the bow came the sound of mild commotion.
"Why? We should be able to see it by now."
"It might be the fog. Boatmen, keep your eyes peeled!"
"Aye!"
They seemed unable to find something. Just as the voices said, mist had rolled in, but it wasn't thick enough yet to hide everything. I sought out the captain—the helmsman—and asked.
"What's the matter?"
"Ah, Young Master So-ryong. We're nearing Akyang, so the lights should be visible by now, but we can't see them. Even at midnight the city's glow ought to show us where Akyang is. It's far too dark."
—Kiiiiik!
That was when it happened. A sharp scraping sound came from the side of the ship—something grinding against the hull.
"Wh-what was that!?"
"Th-the pier, Helmsman!"
"What!? P-poles! Get the poles!"
With every light extinguished, they had failed to spot the approaching pier and the ship's side had scraped against it. Startled by the noise, Father-in-law—who was traveling with us to meet the imperial family—burst out of the cabin.
"What in the world is going on?"
"There's fog and it's pitch dark outside. We didn't see the pier coming up and the hull brushed against it."
"Put your backs into it! Heave!"
"Push!"
The sailors rushed over and shoved the hull away from the pier with all their strength. Once they finally got clear, men jumped down to check the ship's condition—whether it was taking on water.
Wait. Isn't the "new car gets a fender-bender" jinx supposed to be limited to my previous life?
I had thought that particular curse only applied to cars. Yet here we were with a scratch on the very first voyage. While I stood there looking incredulous, the helmsman came to report.
"It only grazed us, sir. No water coming in, so you need not worry."
"I-I see. That's a relief."
People will shrug off a total factory-level breakdown, but a scratch is what really gets under your skin—something the helmsman clearly didn't understand.
At that moment a man came running from the pier and shouted toward us through the darkness.
"I don't know where you've come from, but p-put out your lights! Quickly!"
"The lights?"
His words made me realize: this place was covered by those black insects. No wonder every light was out—people were living in the dark because of the bugs. Light a fire and the insects came swarming.
"Everyone, douse the lights!"
We hurriedly put out every flame and disembarked. The man waiting on the pier was some sort of government soldier. He asked where we had come from.
"Where are you all from?"
"Ah, we've come from Sichuan. We were introduced by the Murim Alliance."
"The Murim Alliance? Ah—the people the princess has been waiting for?"
"That's right. That's us."
"Ohhh! Excellent timing. We'll escort you to Her Highness at once! We've been expecting you!"
The soldier brightened the moment he heard we had come on the Murim Alliance's introduction. He quickly took the lead.
They had clearly been waiting for us with considerable urgency.
"This way, please."
But not everyone in our party had come ashore yet. I made a careful request.
"There are still people—ah, children—who need to come down. Could you wait a moment?"
"Ah, more in your party?"
"Yes. Please don't be startled."
"Startled?"
"Kids, it's okay to come down now!"
I called toward the ship. Through the thin mist, lit by moonlight, Cho, Bin, and Yo-hwa descended from the deck.
The soldier recoiled as if struck by lightning and collapsed on the spot.
"B-black insects and... m-monsters too... Is Akyang... doomed...?"
Meeting someone's daughter and little sister for the first time and saying things like that...
Should we just leave?
We arrived at the government office where the governor was said to be, yet we could not even step inside the gate. People startled by Cho and Bin refused to let us in.
I had brought them along to project an expert atmosphere. Apparently they looked a little too expert.
A short while later, two figures—a man and a woman—emerged from the darkness between the surrounding soldiers.
"You say you came with an introduction from the Murim Alliance?"
"Long live the Emp—"
"No. Formalities aren't necessary."
At the woman's question, Father-in-law nearly bellowed "Long live His Imperial Majesty!" before being stopped. From what I had gathered, one was supposed to use honorifics with the princess at all times—even her own husband had to address her formally for life—so he had prepared that greeting. She, however, did not seem to care much about protocol.
"Dang Cheol-san, Lord of the Sichuan Tang Family, greets Princess Gwando."
"Ah, so you are from the Sichuan Tang Family. I have long heard of your family's renown. A pleasure to meet you. I am Yu Ji-ryeon. And this is my husband, Governor Seo Bin-ak."
"A pleasure. I am Seo Bin-ak."
Once the introductions were finished, the woman's voice came again. She looked toward me, then at Bin and Cho gleaming in the moonlight, and her expression turned to one of surprise.
"I asked them to send people who knew insects well, and the sight of you truly inspires confidence. And for the renowned lord of the Tang Family himself to come help us..."
In the moonlight she looked thoroughly relieved. Father-in-law smiled at her words and stepped aside.
"It is not I who will help Your Highness, but this young man here."
"Pardon? This young master?"
Told that a boy like me would be the one helping her, the woman blinked in confusion. I stepped forward and asked,
"May I see the insects?"
"Very well. Prepare it."
She still seemed a little taken aback, but she nodded at my request. Princess Gwando ordered one of the soldiers to make ready. The man moved a good distance away and began striking a flint.
—Tak-tak.
Once the torch caught, he jammed it into the ground and sprinted back toward us.
—Swaaaaah.
Then came a hair-raising sound. Something swarmed the torch with merciless force, and the flame snuffed out under the onslaught.
I hurried over and plucked a living specimen from among the ones that had burned to death around the torch.
I examined it in the moonlight. Black wings. Black legs. An orange back. And two of them stuck permanently together.
"Uh..."
Confirming the sight, I slowly turned my head toward Princess Gwando.
"What is it? An insect you don't know?"
"Ah, no—I know what it is, but..."
"You know it!? What is it? Is there a way to free us from these loathsome things!?"
The princess asked with a face full of expectation. The answer was extremely awkward to give.
These creatures were called Love Bugs—one of the insects known for massive swarms. Rendered precisely into the language of the Central Plains, they would have to be called Mating Bugs, or Gyojeopchung.
They spent their entire adult lives joined in copulation, which was why they had earned the slang name Love Bug. Even if I called them Love Insects—using the character for "love"—I would still have to explain the exact meaning. And if I had to explain it anyway, it was simpler just to call them Mating Bugs so no further clarification was needed.
If I tell a princess these are "Yasu Bugs," will she have my head cut off?
I was having a very serious crisis over what to name an insect.