A Guardian Named Bong-gu
“...Hah.”
After staying up several nights on watch, the crop thief had picked broad daylight of all times to show up.
I'd just finished weeding and was in the middle of mana training when the situation caught me completely off guard.
Thank goodness it was a weekend. If it had been a weekday, my crops would have been brazenly stolen all over again.
“Grrruluk!!”
The creature stood in front of the sweet potato it had been gnawing on a few days ago, growling threats at me.
“You spoke human just fine last time—why have you gone back to being an animal?”
As if it understood me, the honey badger glared at me with sharp, beady eyes, then rose up onto its hind legs and stood bolt upright.
Then, huffing out a breath, it bellowed:
“Kki-woo... A duel! Winner gets this sweet potato leaf!”
Human speech again.
Honey badgers are famous for their fearlessness.
And this one, to be precise, wasn't just smart—it was a genius honey badger, beyond clever altogether.
I'd set up a whole line of traps around the hole it had torn in the greenhouse, but it had slipped past every single one and made its way here anyway.
The honey badger now stood bravely on its hind legs before me.
Looking thoroughly pleased with itself, no less.
The sweet potato it was pointing at had already been chewed through—leaves, the top of the root, everything—ruining its market value.
An animal that could actually communicate.
It was a deeply surreal situation.
But I'd already been through this a few days ago, so I caught on fast.
“Good grief.”
A sigh escaped me before I knew it.
I dusted off the work gloves in my hands.
The soft patter of falling dirt broke the stillness.
It was a creature smaller than my forearm, that was all.
To think I'd suffered for days over a showdown with something like this.
One kick would probably kill it, and yet here it was charging at me. Looking at that nerve, I couldn't even muster the will to humor it.
“Hmm...”
Still, honey badgers were small animals that fought remarkably well.
This one had even sliced clean through my mana-woven greenhouse sheeting, after all.
Come to think of it, it wasn't entirely useless.
It spoke human language, and it was a fighter on top of that.
This might sound a little absurd, but...
I found myself thinking I might actually be able to put this thing to good use.
I don't yet have the ability to detect the small creatures sneaking into my field.
While my mana circle grows, why not make use of it?
First, let's lay some groundwork.
“One lousy sweet potato vine? Don't you think that's a pretty small prize for a duel?”
“...Kki-ruk?”
The honey badger tilted its head at my words.
“What's the point of risking your life over a few measly leaves? It's inefficient however you look at it.”
“Kkwi—this is, a matter of pride! Me, honey badger, very strong!”
The honey badger puffed out its breath and puffed up its body.
Or was that its fur puffing up?
It looked exactly like some scrawny two-bit thug you'd find in a tiny village.
I discovered yet another of the honey badger's strengths.
Cuteness. Honestly, that's lethal.
Might be able to make use of that too.
I looked the honey badger dead in both eyes and spoke seriously.
“I get the pride thing, but have you ever considered there might be a more efficient way than dueling?”
“Efficient? What that?”
“It means if you put the effort you'd spend dueling into something else instead, you can get way more food.”
“...More food?”
The honey badger's ears twitched.
Now.
I held out three fingers.
“Three roots.”
“...Kkwi-ruk?!”
“Promise to do what I tell you, and I'll give you three sweet potatoes every week. I'll throw in one other crop of your choice, too. I'm growing carrots these days, you know.”
Thud—
The honey badger collapsed limply to the ground and let out a tiny whimper.
“Kki-woo—”
Very tasty sweet potatoes, three a week. And carrots too...!
Have to grab it.
This—I have to grab this, no matter what!
Its face made it perfectly clear that was exactly what it was thinking.
The light changing in its eyes, the honey badger sprang to its feet.
Wobbling on its hind legs, it crept closer and closer.
And then, finally—thwack.
I'd been captured.
Clutching my leg and hanging off it, the honey badger cried out:
“What thing I have to do?”
Big, glistening eyes beamed up at me.
I smiled and scooped the little thing up.
Its mind was apparently so utterly consumed by the promise of three sweet potatoes that it snuggled in obediently.
“It's very simple. You become the guardian of this field.”
“Guardian?”
“That greenhouse you tore through—it's very strong sheeting woven with my mana.”
“Right. Sheet, strong.”
“Then what does that make you, the one who tore through it? Even stronger, right?”
“Right! Me, honey badger, very strong!”
Bob bob—
“You stop other animals from breaking into this field. You protect me and your crops with your own strength. Like a guardian!”
The honey badger's way of talking was so childish that I'd somehow started babying it without realizing.
Whether its pride was hurt or not, the honey badger's face went stiff.
An absolutely, positively grave expression.
Oh no—did I explain it like I was talking down to a toddler?
The moment that thought crossed my mind, I caught the corner of the honey badger's mouth twitching.
“Heh, heh heh... Good. Very strong guardian, me do.”
It was desperately trying to hide its rising grin.
But for all its effort, I could see everything.
Once it had composed its face for a moment, the honey badger shouted at the top of its little lungs:
“Kyuu—my territory, protect all. Other guys, I shred them all!”
You are in close contact with a life form harboring mana.
A special relationship is being established.
A life form harboring mana, huh.
That would explain why it spoke human and could tear through a mana barrier.
How did it come to hold mana in the first place?
Every living thing possessed mana, technically.
But manifesting it outwardly was another matter entirely.
Could its steady pilfering of my crops have had something to do with it?
That was a plausible hypothesis.
If the crops absorbed mana while growing in the Mana Land, and the badger had kept absorbing them...
Then even a faint trace of mana transferring over and being used unconsciously wouldn't be strange at all.
The honey badger's existence has been verified.
Affection toward the user has reached a sufficient threshold.
'Pet' registration is now available.
Would you like to register? Y/N
A system window had popped up out of nowhere, spouting unfamiliar words.
A pet?
Pet as in pet animal?
A 'pet' is not a mere companion animal.
It is a partner of the user who will assist in combat and various tasks.
Proceed with pet registration for the honey badger?
Y/N
...That's the same thing, isn't it?
Either way, it's still calling it a companion animal.
Was that actually a good thing?
A visible system seemed far more trustworthy than a verbal agreement.
“Alright.”
“Kki-yu! Me, guardian now!”
The honey badger has been registered as the user's pet.
Would you like to name your pet?
I don't exactly have a talent for naming things.
I mulled it over for a moment, then spoke.
“Well, its fur is black—how about Blackie?”
“...Just because can talk, say anything?”
Granted, it was a name asking for trouble one way or another.
“Then how about Whitey, since it's got white fur from head to tail?”
“Kkyak! No!!”
A violent rejection.
Hmm... what would be fitting, then?
The answer came from someone else.
“How about Bong-gu?”
Grandpa said it over lunch with a hearty chuckle.
My family had been flabbergasted when the honey badger followed me right into the house without a shred of fear.
Only Grandpa had said that if you live in the countryside long enough, you see all sorts of animals—so don't worry about it and just eat. And that was that.
Thanks to which, the honey badger ended up joining us right at the table.
“Bong-gu?”
“People usually name white dogs Baek-gu—whitey, right? Well, this one's a honey badger, so we take bong from honey (bŏl) bong. Bong-gu. What do you think?”
A remarkably logical name, really.
The honey badger, busy tearing into lettuce leaves at the table, showed no signs of objecting either, so it seemed to approve.
“Then it's settled—Seo Bong-gu!”
Your pet's name has been set.
From now on, close cooperation with your pet, 'Seo Bong-gu,' is possible.
Passive interaction “I Know Even Without Words” has been activated.
Selectable interaction “Friend follows friend to Gangnam” has been created.
The system window appeared the moment I settled on the name.
As I was reading through the contents, my mother cleared her throat and said:
“Ahem! Ji-on... if you're going to live with Bong-gu from now on, I think a bath is in order first.”
Only then did Bong-gu's condition actually register with me.
If you had to show someone what “filthy” looked like, it would look exactly like this.
Feet caked in dirt, a snout smeared with dried honeydew. Its fur had little spines stuck to it—bee stingers, or something like them.
Bob. All I could do was nod.
“Yeah, that's definitely necessary.”
“So you're telling me a honey badger ended up guarding the greenhouse?”
Old Mr. Choi laughed heartily as he stared at Seo Bong-gu, who was clinging to my back.
All clean now, wagging nothing but its tail—the spitting image of a house pet.
Ever since the great bath war, this rascal Bong-gu had refused point-blank to set foot on the floor by itself.
Hence it had been hanging off my shoulder all this time.
Since Dad and Grandpa tend the fields during the day, there was no need for a separate guard anyway, so I'd just brought it along.
“...Don't let appearances fool you—it's smarter than it looks. A fighter, too.”
Why was I making excuses for it?
Picking up on my state, Mr. Choi answered with a smile.
“Heheh, that's true. Honey badgers are fighters with a real reputation. I was thinking the field could use a guard posted there before long, anyway.”
A sizable farm growing special crops.
It was true that, for now, the crop selection was limited to one variety, but Ji-on was a child who would keep growing.
Besides, the sweet potatoes Ji-on grew were already being sold nationwide through Han-gae Mart.
There was no telling whether some competitor, like himself, might sniff out Ji-on's farm.
And Ji-on was not yet old enough to predict what kind of schemes such a person might concoct.
At least, that's how it was in the world of business he himself had survived.
When your livelihood is on the line, how many people stay honest?
“I don't think we'll need a guard, though.”
The reply that came back sounded a touch complacent.
Maybe that was just the innocence of a child still learning how the world worked.
For now, let's focus on the task in front of us.
Choi Tae-seok pulled up a weed by its roots with his gloved hand.
With every sweet potato he ate, his muscles were recovering.
Even this kind of farm work no longer caused him pain.
What a blessing that was.
You had to enjoy life while you could.
Of course, clearing away the weeds—vermin eyeing the mentor who had gifted him this happiness—was now part of his restored health's duty as well.
I suppose I'll have to hire a guard at my own expense after all.
As Choi Tae-seok sat lost in thought, Ji-on struck up a conversation.
“Grandpa, you're probably running low on sweet potatoes by now—how many have you got left?”
“I believe you said I had one left this morning...”
“I'll bring you another box this evening. Make sure you eat them all up.”
He kept a reserve of crops for his family beyond what he normally delivered.
A few extra wouldn't affect his delivery quota in the least, so setting aside produce for Mr. Choi was no problem.
“I feel terrible, always taking and taking from you.”
“Oh, come on. Between family, this much is nothing.”
A relationship that was practically family.
Which made them family in all but name.
Mr. Choi patted my head.
“Family, hm... What stroke of luck in my old age brought me such a wonderful grandchild, I wonder.”
Tell me about it.
What luck in my life had brought me a family like this?
Pat, pat.
With no way of knowing the answer, I just dug into the field with all my might.
I wanted to make the family I'd been given as happy as I possibly could.