The Monster Hiding in the Building (3)
“Who’s there?”
As soon as we hopped the farm fence, a middle-aged man who looked every bit the shepherd stepped out to meet us, a sturdy club tucked at his waist that seemed perfect for dealing with livestock thieves or wolves.
“We’re just passing adventurers. Do you rent out Hamals here?” I introduced us quickly before he could mistake us for thieves and swing first like last time.
Once I stated our purpose, the man relaxed his shoulders.
“Oh, is that all? Why didn’t you come through the front gate?”
“Heh. This farm’s so big I couldn’t even find the front gate. You manage this whole place by yourself? That’s impressive.”
“How could I do it alone? I’ve got help.”
A little flattery and the man’s guard dropped completely. Though, honestly, this farm wasn’t that big.
“You came to see the Hamals? This way.”
We followed him across the pasture to the stables full of Hamals.
Up close, every single one of them had the face of a lab guinea pig that had just been given euthanasia drugs. Just looking at them drained my energy. Even Franc flinched.
“Th-they look so listless. The Hamals I saw when I was little weren’t like this…”
If even Franc, who’d seen Hamals before, was saying that, I had no choice but to shoot the owner a look. Is this because you’re raising them like crap?
“They get especially sluggish when it’s cold.”
The farmer said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Whether that was true or not, I could just ask the Hamals themselves.
“Hihung hiunghi? (You guys uncomfortable or something?)”
While Franc asked about the rental fee and process, I spoke to them in a low voice. The Hamals looked surprised that I could talk to them, then answered.
“Hiung hiiiiiing. (Winter makes us sleepy.)”
“Hihihiing. Hiiiiiing. (Yeah. Sleepy.)”
These little bastards really were lazy. Or maybe they hibernated? I had more questions, but those could wait for the owner. What I really wanted to know, I asked right away.
“Hiung hing hiinghiinghi? (Why don’t you like carrying people?)”
“Hihiing hiingihihihihinghit!! (We do want to carry people!!)”
“Hihiing hiingihihihihinghit!! (We do want to carry people!!)”
“Ugh!!”
“Hik!”
The Hamals suddenly burst into their species’ signature chorus without warning. The two people chatting behind us jumped in surprise.
“Wh-what?! What did you do?!”
“Huh? Me? I didn’t do anything.”
I played innocent with the classic “who, me?” face. I’d only asked a question—these guys just randomly started freaking out. Not my fault.
“Whoa, whoa!!”
Thankfully, once the farmer calmed them down, they went back to their usual “about to die” sulky expressions. The owner shook his head and told Franc,
“See? I told you. Their personalities are gentle, but they hate being ridden.”
They must’ve been talking about that. I asked what had been bothering me.
“If they hate carrying people, why use them as transportation?”
“Because their personalities are gentle.”
Are you seriously using circular logic right now? So basically, they’re docile so you force them to carry people anyway.
While the farmer was busy talking again, I asked the Hamals,
“Hing hiing hingihi? (Why can’t you carry people?)”
“Huihihing hi. (It itches.)”
“Huiiing huinghihing. (Our bodies get itchy.)”
“Bodies?”
Carrying people or luggage makes them itchy? Sensitive skin? But if it was a skin problem, the herders would’ve noticed. Even with all that fur, they’d shear them in summer.
“Want to try riding one?”
The farmer came back from the consultation, opened the stable door, led one Hamal out, and saddled it. I didn’t refuse and climbed on.
The Hamal took a few steps, snorting, then suddenly reared up without warning, front legs kicking high.
“Hiiiiiinghuinghihing!!!!!! (It doesn’t itch!!!!!!)”
“Uwaaah!!!”
Why the hell is this bastard doing this again?! I grabbed its neck tight, terrified of falling off.
“Hihuk!!”
When its neck got squeezed by my superhuman strength, it let out a weird sound and calmed down. Turns out the crazy ones really do respond to a firm hand!
“G-good heavens!! A Hamal letting someone ride it so easily!!”
The farmer cried out like a math grad student whose common sense had been violated. But you, you crazy-eyed Beast Tamer bastard—does it look like I’m riding this thing easily right now? I almost fell off and died just now!
“The secret! Tell me the secret!! If you do, I’ll let you rent a Hamal for free!! No, you can just take the one you’re riding!!”
“I don’t really know. It just worked when I tried.”
I snapped at his ridiculous plea. I genuinely had no idea why these walking manure factories were acting like this.
“Th-that can’t be right?”
The farmer paced around the Hamal I was on, flustered. Franc, who’d been watching curiously, spoke up.
“Could I try riding too?”
The farmer grumbled that he didn’t understand, then scratched his head like he’d given up.
“Agh, whatever. Go ahead. I’ll go grab the rental form and ledger.”
Once the farmer went into the cabin, Franc’s face lit up with excitement she’d been holding back.
“Nord. What did the Hamals say? Why are they so energetic even with you on their back?”
“Dunno. They said the reason they don’t like carrying others is because it makes them itchy.”
“Itchy?”
“That’s what they said, so probably true. You try riding too, Franc.”
They must have their reasons for acting up. Franc followed my advice and climbed onto a Hamal.
“Wow. You got on easily.”
I’d been about to help because of her height, but she hopped up by herself. Our Franc’s got some light footwork. But the moment that light Franc got on, the Hamal drooped like a dog that just had its food bowl stolen.
“Hiiing……”
It even started trembling, clearly showing it hated this. What kind of brain structure did these things have to prefer carrying a big macho guy like me over sweet, gentle, lovable Franc?
I scratched the Hamal’s body, which was hanging as limp as a summer sausage.
“Hiuiiing huinghihing? Hiing? (Where’s it itchy? Here?)”
“Hiuihiinghing. (Other side.)”
“Hiing? (Here?)”
“Hihinghinghinghing! (A little lower!)”
While the farmer was gone, I kept scratching wherever they said it itched. After the fifth scratch, the Hamal shuddered. I thought it was about to piss itself, but apparently that was enough to stop the itching.
“Hiiiiiinghuinghihing!! (It doesn’t itch!!)”
“Shut up!!”
“Hihuk!”
I shut it up with a quick jab to the neck. Making such a fuss. And these are supposed to be lazy animals?
“Looks like you’re both settled. Renting one?”
The farmer returned while I was checking the ride feel with Franc on too. I got off and pulled out my wallet.
“How much for a few days?”
“Hamals are slow and lazy, so it’s one copper a day. They can’t carry much, so they’re only good for farm work, and even then they slack off.”
One copper a day. Dirt cheap.
“Thirty coppers including the deposit.”
Are you kidding me? The price jumped 3000% the second he opened his mouth? I was dumbfounded but handed over the money with trembling hands.
“I’ll deduct the rental days when you return it. Don’t even think about running off. Livestock counts as property—the guards will treat you as thieves.”
“You can relax about that.”
I paid and climbed back onto the Hamal. The farmer was clearly dying to ask why it was suddenly so motivated, but I had no intention of telling him.
What’s the point of telling others? It’s not like they’d figure out the itchy spots anyway, and if this guy got rich off my tip, I’d die of jealousy. Plus, writing a paper on it was pointless. In this world, biology was about as promising as Korean literature on Earth.
The value of scholarship here is determined by whether it makes money or benefits the nobility.
Earth’s medieval era was probably the same. It was an open secret that archaeologists from various countries had distorted history to suit their own nations.
We left through the front gate the farmer had told us about. Since I didn’t know how to ride, Franc held the reins. The macho Nord had his arms wrapped tightly around his girlfriend’s waist.
“Hihihihiing!!! (This is exciting!!!)”
The Hamal got worked up at the thought of carrying people and running. Caught up in its energy, I shouted too.
“From today, your name is Ttareungi!!”
Excited, I grabbed the reins Franc was holding and cracked them.
“Hya!!”
“Hiunghe hiheiing. (That hurts, just say it with words.)”
“Got it.”
The little guy got all serious. Anyway, being able to talk to them was a huge help. They were supposedly pretty fast too, so maybe we could cut down the travel time to the village? Franc seemed to share my anticipation—she lightly kicked the Hamal’s side with her cute booted foot.
“Ttareungi, let’s go.”
“Hihihihihing!!! (Yes!!!)”
Given the command to run, Ttareungi went wild with joy and floored it. Oh, this guy’s faster than I thought…… faster……
Holy shit, why is it so fast!!!!
“Hiung!!!! Hihinghehehinghiing!!!! (Hey!!!! Slow down!!!!)”
“Hah?! N-Nord! Don’t shout in my ear!”
“Hihihi───hing!!!!!! (This is exciting!!!!!!)”
This bastard wasn’t listening at all!!! This speed was crossing a line!!! Even the uncle’s motorcycle I rode as a kid wasn’t this bad!!! Because it was a quadruped on an unpaved road, every step had insane suspension feel!!!! I clung to Franc and screamed!!!!
“You fucking horse-dick bastard!!!! I said slow doooooown!!!!!!!!”
“Hihiinghihinghiingiiingheng!!!! Hihiinghihinghihehengheeeeeeng!!!!! (I made this person fast!!!! I can control human speed!!!!!)”
And so we were carried by the runaway express train that was Ttareungi, freed from the stables, and teleported straight to Pefort Village. They’d said it would take half a day on foot, but we arrived before the sun even reached its peak.
“Hi─ hihihihing!!!”
With a completely meaningless cry, Ttareungi stopped in front of Pefort Village. I’d gotten somewhat used to it after the first hour and regained some composure, but those first sixty minutes I’d genuinely thought I was going to die. I’d even considered activating Beast Regression and jumping off with Franc before we fell and got trampled by hooves. You crazy bastard……
Still, it really is insanely fast.
I’d planned to smack it a few times once we got off, but I let it go out of gratitude for getting us here so quickly. Not because I was worried I’d have to buy 700kg of horse meat if it died.
We got off the Hamal and entered the village. Pefort Village had the feel of an ordinary rural town.
“E-excuse me. Are you adventurers by any chance?”
A middle-aged woman stopped us as we passed. Her broad shoulders and sturdy build looked optimized for farm work and husband exploitation. Like some kind of dark-evolution high school girl.
“Yes, we are adventurers. Why do you ask?”
“Why else! You rode a Hamal all the way here, didn’t you?”
The woman grumbled with dagger eyes. I was wondering why she was freaking out when my elite master’s brain quickly calculated the answer.
“It took us a while because we rented a Hamal, so you thought we were late?”
“Exactly!”
“We’re not late.”
I climbed back onto Ttareungi and did a little rodeo.
“Hihihihihing!!!!!! (This is exciting!!!!!!)”
The woman, apparently seeing a Hamal dancing with a rider for the first time, collapsed on the spot, her waist giving out.
“As you can see, this one’s special, so we got here fast.”
I got off Ttareungi and looked down at the woman who’d rolled in the mud and gotten soaked, my expression full of pity. She was clutching her waist and gasping like she’d hit something wrong. It was her own fault, so I felt zero sympathy.
“The goblin extermination request got pushed back because it wasn’t attractive. We accepted it today and arrived the same day.”
I didn’t bother saying that if they’d offered just ten more coppers, plenty of people would’ve come. Wasting time arguing with stubborn idiots in a village where you just take the money and leave wasn’t worth it.
“Franc, let’s go.”
“Okay.”
Franc, Ttareungi, and I headed for an inn with a stable attached. It looked like a cozy rural village at first glance, but it didn’t feel the least bit warm or welcoming. Places like this were closed societies where serious crimes could easily happen. Even the great detective Sherlock Holmes had said as much.