Maengkkongi (2)

Maengkkongi had nearly frozen to death, but I managed to revive the little creature in the nick of time.

Its sheer work ethic—stubbornly persevering through song in the face of death—was nothing short of astonishing. In human terms, it was the equivalent of standing stark naked in the dead of winter, singing its heart out until frostbite set in.

"See that, Ggobongi? Maengkkongi is a true professional."

"What is... professional?"

"Someone who silently does their job even in hopeless conditions. Someone who gives their absolute best when paid for their work."

Of course, there were plenty of so-called professionals out there who couldn't even manage that, but I decided to let that slide. More importantly, one had to distinguish between someone lacking professional ethics and someone who was simply lacking in skill. Whenever I watched sports back on Earth, I'd occasionally hear spectators screaming at players to go get a trade license if they were going to play like garbage. At the very least, that kind of cursing was directed at their performance, not their attitude. If an athlete truly lacked professionalism, fans wouldn't even bother yelling—they would simply look down on them with cold, silent contempt.

Stroke, stroke—

"Ppiyung."

As I gently stroked its head, Maengkkongi let out an endearing chirp. Every time I heard it, I couldn't help but marvel at how unique its cries were. What was even funnier was that whenever it sang, its diction was clearer than anyone else's. Not even a trained parrot could mimic human speech with such precision.

It's all the more admirable because you can see how desperately it wants to help.

It had strained its tiny body to haul fallen branches just to stoke the fireplace. It had deliberately sung outside to gather beasts for our hunt, fearing the noise might disturb the shelter. And in the end, it had displayed relentless professional pride, singing until the very moment its body froze over. First impressions were supposed to carry the most weight, and Maengkkongi had left me with nothing but glowing memories. What was even more incredible was that it hadn't taken months to build that goodwill—only three or four days had passed.

Compared to how painfully long it took for Ggobongi to change my opinion ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of him...

I glanced toward the entrance where Ggobongi was busy butchering the giant sunfish. From the very beginning, that gorilla had left an awful first impression and followed it up with every conceivable obnoxious antic. Yet against all odds, he had grown into an indispensable sla—er, member of our shelter's crew.

"Master. Butchering finished."

"Good work. What about the inner core?"

"Here."

With the butchering complete, Ggobongi extracted the inner core. Perhaps because it had required a Golden Earthworm to catch, the core was remarkably hefty. I briefly wondered why a regular sea fiend harbored a neidan, but given that this was the Forest of the Four Seasons, I chalked it up to wilderness logic and moved on.

This inner core is way bigger than any fish core I've seen before.

Swallowing it whole seemed out of the question. I would have to absorb it gradually. If all else failed, I could always ask Passing Dwarf to brew it into steeped liquor.

After storing the bulk of the processed sunfish meat in the cold cellar, I set aside the skin. Preserving the skin was notoriously tricky, so we decided to eat it immediately. When I asked the Gallery for preparation advice, the consensus was to steam it until it turned into a firm, gelatinous jelly.

"...Hey, why does this taste so bizarre?"

"Master. Has no taste at all. Feels like tongue is paralyzed."

It was utterly devoid of flavor. I didn't mean that as a figure of speech—it literally had zero taste whatsoever. When I first read about it on the forum, I had been skeptical, but experiencing it firsthand was genuinely baffling. What made it even more ridiculous was that this beast had lived in the magical Forest of the Four Seasons.

Even mundane river carp have a distinct savory taste.

Perhaps this specimen was simply an anomaly. In the end, I had to whip up a savory dipping sauce. The meat itself possessed a delightfully chewy texture, so once tossed in a rich, seasoned dressing, it became surprisingly palatable. Washing it down with the potent dwarven liquor Passing Dwarf had sent over transformed the meal into an exquisite delicacy.

Not that I can even get drunk anymore, no matter how much I drink...

Still, I enjoyed it for the taste alone. And even without liquor, there was always canned crab from the vending machine.

Like that, one day melted into the next, and the next into another. With very little to do throughout the quiet winter months, the Gallery remained relatively uneventful. Occasionally, forum users buzzed with rumors about an ominous, suffocating aura descending across the Central Plains, but I brushed those reports aside. A continental civil war breaking out in Murim was an inevitable course of history. I only hoped the casualties would be minimal.

It's not as though the Heavenly Demon is genuinely wicked.

Whether in forum threads or real life, she carried an arrogant streak, but I liked her because she was the type to repay every kindness tenfold. More than anything, her true character had shown during the extermination of the Blood Cult remnants. When the cultists tried to use kidnapped civilians as human shields, she chose to let several high-ranking targets escape just to ensure the hostages survived. Despite her terrifying continental reputation for ruthless slaughter, she took no pleasure in killing.

Though she definitely seemed to have a terrifying temper back in the day.

The Heavenly Demon, Yu So-wol, held another moniker: the Night Rakshasa Blood Flower. The title alone was enough to send shivers down anyone's spine. Well, by her own admission, she claimed she was 'still immature and wild' during those years, so I let the matter rest.

What mattered far more was the road ahead. Soon, it would be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time to embark on our expedition.

Reaching the World Tree is truly our only option now.

I clenched my fists. Our next destination was the World Tree. No matter what nightmarish abominations lurked along the path, we would break through. I possessed immense regenerative capabilities, and Ludwig's combat baseline had recovered significantly. The timing was perfect.

Yet, a sliver of worry remained—namely, our newest companion and pet, Maengkkongi. In terms of raw combat power, it was easily the weakest link in our entire camp. In many ways, it was the true fragile sunfish of our group.

I can't leave it anywhere safe... but taking it along carries its own risks...

Leaving it in the care of the hobgoblin settlement seemed like an obvious idea, but that would create its own headaches. Wonmo would throw an absolute tantrum the moment he woke up and discovered the rain frog was gone. Bringing it along as our party's resident bard seemed like the only sensible choice.

How do I keep this little guy safe out there...?

The Forest of the Four Seasons was far too treacherous for a plump, steamed-bun-like frog to waddle through. Frankly, the fact that it had survived this long in the wild was an outright miracle. Even its ability to belt out songs like an opera star was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mind-boggling.

I playfully poked the steamed bun—or rather, Maengkkongi—with the tip of my finger.

"Ppiyung!"

Annoyed, the frog abruptly swiveled its entire round body away from my hand, prompting a chuckle from me. It was adorable in a completely different way from Wonmo. Watching it stand on its stubby hind legs in front of the fireplace, it looked visibly exhausted.

"Master. What doing?"

"Making a chair."

"Looks very small for chair."

"It's for Maengkkongi."

I set to work crafting a miniature chair tailored specifically for our little bard. It wasn't something I could barter for on the Gallery, so I had to whittle it by hand. Because the creature possessed an exceptionally plump behind relative to its tiny stature, I made sure the seating basin was nice and wide. Once the piece was polished and assembled, I gently placed it in front of the frog.

"Ppiyung?"

"Sit. Go on, sit down."

After a brief flicker of bewilderment, Maengkkongi settled its chubby backside snugly into the custom wooden seat. Seeing the dumpling-shaped frog perched comfortably upon its very own throne was so overwhelmingly cute that I couldn't stop grinning. It possessed an almost hypnotic charm. Then again, if it didn't have that kind of charisma, its songs wouldn't have been able to charm and herd wild predators in the first place.

Just as expected, the post triggered an explosive reaction. A warm, proud smile crept across my face. Passing Dwarf had pledged to procure a miniature guitar for Maengkkongi, though I wasn't holding my breath. In craftsmanship, scaling something down to palm-size was exponentially harder than forging a colossal weapon. Even for a master dwarven artisan, crafting a functional instrument for a frog would take a considerable amount of time.

Well, we'll see how it goes while we explore.

As the days drifted by without notice, the biting chill gradually gave way to gentle warmth. Spring had arrived. The towering drifts of pristine snow melted in the blink of an eye, and mild breezes swept across the wilderness.

Whoooosh!

Along with the arrival of spring came the inevitable Pollen Storm. Dense, suffocating yellow haze blanketed the forest, forcing us to batten down the hatches and seal every crevice around the doors and windows.

"Kkyuu! Kkyu!"

"Ppiyung."

Having finally shaken off his long winter hibernation, Wonmo was joyously reunited with Maengkkongi. Naturally, the very first thing the baby owlbear did was hoist the frog up and balance it squarely atop his head. The rascal who had loudly pledged to take full ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠responsibility for the creature had spent the entire winter sleeping like a log, leaving all the babysitting to me.

Well, he was cute, so I forgave him. Besides, Maengkkongi had proven its own worth, so it was all fine.

Time to finish our preparations.

The Pollen Storm usually blew over within a single day. The moment the skies cleared, we would set out on our expedition. Throughout the winter, Starlight Princess had faithfully supplied us with a steady reserve of Elixirs. All that remained was plotting our marching route.

I have to periodically verify the World Tree's coordinates as we advance.

One false turn and we could wander off into the middle of nowhere. Compasses were completely useless inside the distorted dimensional geometry of the Forest of the Four Seasons. Marching in a straight line was virtually impossible; there was no telling what bizarre geographical anomalies might block our path. Furthermore, we might stumble upon forgotten ruins like the Ancient Library. Investigating such sites would inevitably consume a hefty chunk of time.

"Listen up, Maengkkongi. If things ever get truly dangerous out there, dive right in here. Understood?"

"Ppiyung."

"Wonmo, come over here."

"Kkyuu?"

I strapped the subspace backpack onto Wonmo's back. In an emergency, this pocket dimension would serve as Maengkkongi's personal bunker. Hiding inside a dimensional bag didn't guarantee absolute safety, but it was miles better than leaving the little guy exposed to stray attacks.

Who would've thought that subspace bag I acquired back then would end up being used like this?

With all our gear secured, it was finally time to depart. It felt like an eternity since our last real expedition. Between my prolonged physical rehabilitation and the dead of winter, we had remained cooped up in the shelter for nearly half a month. But after all the meticulous preparations we had made, there was every reason to feel confident.

"Let's move out."

I initiated the live video broadcast, and a flood of registered users poured into the chat room. From their perspective, the hiatus had dragged on for ages. Even I felt a prickle of anticipation in my chest.

"Hm?"

As we trudged along the wilderness trail, something caught my eye. It wasn't a stalking beast, nor was it a grotesque carnivorous plant. It was just an ordinary, unremarkable green stem peeking through the soil. I stared down at the small patch of clover for a quiet moment before carefully plucking a stem. Turning around, I held it out toward Maengkkongi, who was perched proudly atop Wonmo's furry head.

"Here you go, Maengkkongi."

"Ppiyung?"

What I handed the little creature was none other than a four-leaf clover. It was the kind of plant that looked surprisingly natural in the tiny webbed paws of a frog. Maengkkongi grasped the green stem with both hands and blinked its glossy black eyes. At first, it wore an expression of sheer bewilderment, but then...

"Ppiyung!"

Its round face lit up with a brilliant, sunny smile as if its mood had reached the heavens. And a few moments later...

Overcome with sheer joy, the little frog belted out a thunderous chorus that sounded vivid enough to paint the entire sky crimson red. The most staggering part was that its dramatic battle hymn actually provided an absurdly potent party buff. In an instant, the heavy fatigue vanished from our legs, and our strides felt as feather-light as the wind.

...I have no idea anymore.

I gave up trying to make sense of it all.