Reptile Care Log

Rattle, bang.

Rattle, bang.

I raised the shutter, then lowered it again.

The rails slid smooth without a hitch. The outer wall was freshly painted to a clean sheen. Even the cool metallic scent of a brand-new product still clung to the air, as if the packaging had just been torn off.

"Money really is the best."

The construction crew I'd called through the Awakened temp agency finished the whole job in half a day.

The so-called "human bulldozers" and "human cement mixers" — physical enhancement types, the lot of them.

The industry pyramid was merciless. Those who awakened as combat-class but washed out of real combat eventually drifted down into construction sites and logistics warehouses.

Today, though, I was grateful for that cold hierarchy. Other people's frustration and tears had restored my shutter in half a day.

"Boss, how would you like to pay?"

"Twelve-month installment."

"That's not interest-free, just so you know."

"…Ah. Right."

The disaster compensation money had long since run dry. My credit card shouldered the shortfall in construction costs.

Still — having no hole in the wall was a good thing.

Feeling considerably lighter, I stepped back into the workshop.

"Unyaaah…"

Beside the forge.

The warmest prime real estate in the building.

There, a silver-haired creature had melted into a puddle like liquid.

She was flattened against the floor in a slime-like heap, her tiny frame flopping bonelessly.

I approached quietly and nudged her side with the tip of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my shoe.

Roll.

The silver-haired liquid slid away without resistance, then used the momentum to slither right back into place.

Roll. Slither. Roll. Slither.

Was she shape-memory alloy?

"…Excuse me."

"It's so waaarm… Nagi's melting…"

"If you keep sprawling like that, you're blocking the walkway."

"This is Nagi-nim's VIP seat. If it's in the way, Hanul can just walk around."

"You're supposed to be a god. Why are you so obsessed with heat sources?"

"Snakes are cold-blooded. We can't make our own body heat. Without Hanul's forge, Nagi-nim might go into hibernation. That would be a global loss."

"It's thirty-two degrees outside right now. You should be more worried about heatstroke than hibernation."

"Spiritual temperature is different! Nagi-nim's soul is freezing cold, okay?!"

At this point, even a hollow laugh wouldn't come out.

Cohabitation.

Two people living under one roof.

The dictionary definition was that simple and clear — but real cohabitation refused to stay confined inside a dictionary.

Honestly, at first, I'd been just a tiny bit excited.

Living with an unrealistically pretty girl.

And not just any girl — a divine being hiding her true identity, under the same roof.

Boy meets girl.

In this case, boy meets snake?

Either way, I couldn't help imagining a sweet, chaotic, out-of-the-ordinary romantic comedy.

All of it was a delusion.

I'd expected a rom-com. What I got was a reptile care log.

And not just any reptile — one that demanded constant attention, ate through a food budget beyond imagination, and talked back at every single opportunity.

The snake god had rapidly colonized my daily life.

My living radius was simple. The first floor was the workshop and forge; the second floor was a two-room residential unit where I ate and slept.

A bare-bones space consisting of a creaky sofa scavenged from the local secondhand marketplace and a faded dining table — that was the whole of it.

And into that bare-bones space, the silver-haired knitwear snake god had adapted with perfect ease.

First among the hardships of reptile husbandry: cleaning.

Sweep, sweep.

Every time the broom passed over the floor, strange things gathered in its path.

Scale fragments with a pearlescent luster.

Shed skins thin and translucent as plastic wrap.

Yes. This snake god was scattering traces of herself all over the house.

"Come on — it's not even hair. Do you really have to shed this often?"

"It's proof that Nagi-nim's divine power is recovering super fast! Nagi's doing all the molting she couldn't do before, all at once! Praise me! Isn't Nagi-nim amazing??"

Nagi, coiled on the sofa like a loaf, puffed herself up with pride.

"From the perspective of the guy cleaning up the shed skins, it's not amazing at all."

Wheeeee—

At the sight of the vacuum cleaner, Nagi shrank back.

"Shaaaak! What is that?! That weird-looking snake just ate Nagi's shed skin!"

"It's not a snake. It's a household appliance."

"Nagi must have revenge!!"

"If you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unplug it, it dies."

"Really? A weak beast that dies when you pull its tail!"

Watching her leap onto the sofa backrest or flee to the top of the fridge every time the vacuum roared to life, she was basically a cat.

I mercilessly sucked up the translucent husks from the floor with the vacuum.

Then a familiar window floated up before my eyes.

Every time I saw it, the text left me speechless. A scrap of dead skin rolling around in the corner of my room was a mythic-grade material?

And my current forge temperature couldn't even melt it.

Should I collect these and weave them into anti-stab armor or something? Since it was supposedly valuable, I'd been stuffing them into a trash bag for now.

After cleaning came the food budget problem.

"Hanul! Nagi-nim is hungry! Food!"

"You were melted into the floor until a minute ago. How are you hungry?"

"Snakes are supposed to eat a ton all at once! Hurry! Meat! Sweet stuff! Salty stuff!"

When a one-person household becomes a two-person household, food costs should double. Basic arithmetic.

So why had our household food expenses quadrupled — or worse?

The Engel coefficient of an ordinary man in his twenties had rocketed clean off the chart overnight.

Which was how I ended up cooking. The math said making food was overwhelmingly cheaper than buying it. The temperature sense I'd built standing in front of a forge turned out to be surprisingly useful with a frying pan. I was pretty sure I hadn't awakened my trait for this.

I cleaned out the fridge and fried up a mountain of fried rice and frozen dumplings.

Nom nom. Chomp chomp.

Nagi shoved food into both cheeks until ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they bulged.

"You said snakes eat in big batches."

"Mmph! Mm, yeah! That's right!"

"And yet Nagi-nim binge-eats every single day."

"There's too much delicious stuff in the modern world! That's not Nagi's fault! Civilization is the arrogant one!"

"Don't blame other people."

"Blame the humans who made civilization. Hanul's a human, right? Then it's Hanul's fault!"

Conversations like this happened about four times a day on average.

Once her belly was solidly full, Nagi made a beeline for the living room sofa.

"Uuuugh, so fuuull…"

"If you lie down right after eating, you'll turn into a snake."

"Nagi already is a snake? Countered. Completely countered."

"…I'll give you that one."

"Victory! Nagi-nim's total triumph!"

Nagi burrowed into the soft cushions and hijacked my smartphone.

Thus was born the knitwear snake god.

A life of nothing but variety shows on TV and short-form videos on a phone, all day long. Every time a flashy clip scrolled past on the screen, Nagi's silver eyelashes fluttered busily.

"Could you put the phone down already? Hand it over."

"Just one more. Just one more, okay?"

"At least plug in the charger. Battery's at fifteen percent."

"Be quiet! This is a really important scene!"

What Nagi was watching was none other than a nature documentary — a special on snakes.

On screen, an anaconda coiled around a deer.

"Ooooh! Ooooooh!"

Staring holes through the screen, Nagi suddenly let out a cheer.

"Did you see that? That elegant curve! Completely different from those inferior beasts that rely on pathetic things like legs! Snakes really are the best! Snakes forever!"

She was thoroughly high on snake nationalism. Even middle-aged men watching patriotic YouTube videos didn't get this passionate.

A god conquered by civilization, enslaved by the algorithm.

I rubbed the deepening crease between my brows and stood at the sink. Might as well finish the dishes.

Tap. Taptaptap.

Then an ominous sound came from the living room.

I turned. Nagi's lips were pressed tight, trembling faintly.

"What's wrong? Did a short of a snake losing to a mongoose come up?"

"Those videos are faked! Edited!"

"Then what is it?"

Nagi huffed and shoved the screen at me.

On it floated the familiar interface of a community board.

Hunter Gallery.

The comment section was overflowing with mockery and contempt.

"How dare they insult my priest?! And with such stupid words?"

"Just ignore it. This isn't a one- or two-day thing. Arguing with keyboard warriors only wears you out."

"No! Insulting Nagi-nim's priest is the same as insulting Nagi-nim! Nagi won't stand for this!"

Taptaptaptap!

Nagi's fingers blazed across the smartphone screen. Eagle-talon typing at terrifying speed.

"Nagi will tell these stupid, blind humans the truth! Hanul is the greatest blacksmith in the world!"

"Wait — what are you doing on someone else's phone…!"

"Done! Posted!"

I lunged to snatch it back, but a new post had already gone up on the board.

"…"

"Well? Everyone must be on their knees before Nagi-nim's airtight logic, right?"

That smug expression made its return.

But the internet ecosystem was not a place that could be measured by a snake god's standards.

The moment I hit refresh, comments started flooding in within a single second.

"Th-this isn't right…? Why doesn't anyone believe Nagi?! Why are they insulting Hanul even more?"

Thanks to her, I had instantly been reduced to an ego-inflated ragebaiter caught running a reptile-girl-concept alt account for public opinion manipulation.

Nagi's face flushed bright red.

"Unforgivable! These insolent humans! How dare they blaspheme the great snake god?! Nagi will curse every last one of them!"

"That's enough. Give me the phone."

Still seething, Nagi buried her face in a cushion and kicked her legs in helpless fury.

I was exhausted.

Ever since getting tangled up with this creature, every single day had been chaos.

That night.

After finishing work, feeling a bit peckish, I opened the fridge.

The spicy charcoal-grilled hot bar I'd bought at the convenience store.

"Huh?"

Gone.

I found the packaging in the sink.

Washed, even.

"Don't tell me… she thought rinsing the wrapper counted as doing the dishes?"

I stood in front of the empty fridge for about thirty seconds.

The entire day replayed in my head, in order.

Tremble.

I can't live like this.

I was neither Buddha nor Jesus.

I was an ordinary citizen drowning in a month's worth of credit card bills!

The next morning, first-floor forge.

I got up earlier than usual, checked the forge temperature, and organized my tools.

Wriggle. Wriggle. Squirm-squirm.

"…What are you doing."

Nagi was crawling down the second-floor stairs like a caterpillar, wrapped head to toe in a blanket. Watching the trailing edge of the blanket mop the dust off every stair step made the back of my neck tighten.

"I told you not to bring blankets down to the forge. They get covered in charcoal dust."

"This blanket is soaked in Nagi-nim's scent, so it's Nagi's! Nagi can do whatever she wants with it!"

"I'm the one who does the laundry, though."

"Doesn't Hanul enjoy doing laundry while smelling Nagi?"

I set down the tongs I'd been holding.

Then I walked over to the workshop's front door.

Click.

I unlocked it and flung the door wide open. Mild morning air pushed its way inside.

"Please leave."

A silver head popped out of the blanket. Her eyes went round.

"…Huh? Is Hanul mad? You're joking… right?"

"I'm not joking. Get out."

I pointed calmly toward the open door.

Nagi's pupils began to tremble. The hands clutching the blanket shook faintly.

"Nagi won't leave! No — Nagi can't leave! Nagi already coiled up here! This place is already Nagi-nim's sacred domain! Once a snake settles in, it never leaves on its own!"

"This is my forge. My workshop. A world I built myself. Animal territory-marking doesn't work here."

Nagi kicked off the blanket and sprang to her feet. The corners of her eyes were red. Her lips jutted out in a pout.

"I-if you keep being mean to Nagi… Nagi will place a curse in the name of the great snake god!"

"Go ahead."

"Nagi means it! Nagi-nim's curses are scary! You'll become consciously aware of every breath you take! You'll forget the timing of your blinks! You'll forget how to swallow your own spit! And… and when you go to the bathroom at night, you'll stub your little toe on the doorframe! And also… one of your socks will go missing every single day!"

I snorted.

A curse, she said — and it was elementary-school level at best. Truly petty in scale.

"Is that all? Even a kindergartener would laugh at a curse like—"

Bzzzt—

A notification vibration buzzed from the phone in my pocket.

I lit up the screen. The source was the Hunter Gallery mobile app.

Apparently ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'd closed the browser without closing the post from yesterday.

I hit refresh.

"…"

A chill ran faintly down my spine.

The timing and the symptoms matched far too precisely to dismiss as coincidence.

…So she really was a real god.

Petty in scale, sure.

…No, wait.

How many people were logged into this board right now.

What if this creature had wished for something other than petty nonsense?

The fingers gripping the screen went a little cold.

"Well? Scary, right? Scary, right? Nagi-nim is a really scary god!"

She herself had absolutely no idea what she'd just done.

"So don't you dare ignore Nagi-nim!!"

Nagi stamped her feet, seething.

And in that moment—

From the fingertips she flailed outward, a blue-white shimmer of heat haze burst free.

Fwaaat—!

The stream of light traced a parabola through the air and scored a direct hit on the secondhand mana forge in the corner of the workshop.

"Ah."

"Huh?"

Nagi's hand slowly lowered.

Her eyes rolled left, then right.

"N-no!!"

Nagi immediately equipped a pitiful expression.

"I-it was an accident! Nagi wasn't really trying to curse anything! Nagi's hand slipped! Nagi wasn't trying to break Hanul's forge! Hand slipped. Nagi-nim's hand was slippery. Because of the scales!"

She wrung both hands together, watching my face for a reaction.

Then—

Whoosh!

A clear, luminous blue-white light flowed out of the forge. The surrounding air warmed pleasantly, and heat filled the entire smithy.

I tried operating the forge's lever.

The old junk that used to swing wildly in temperature at the slightest turn of the dial now shifted the color of its flame with knife-edge precision, exactly where I wanted it.

"Um, Hanul…? Are you really mad…? Is Nagi actually getting kicked out…?"

Tremble-tremble—

The tears gathering at the corners of Nagi's eyes looked ready to fall at any second.

I ran the numbers rapidly in my head.

The value of the divine power now dwelling in the forge. The savings on magic crystals.

And the total sum of the food costs, shampoo costs, and stress this snake god burned through. The petty retaliatory curses that would rain down on me the moment I threw her out onto the street.

There was more than enough room for compromise.

With a forge of this performance, even if I paid double the monthly food budget, it was still a profitable deal.

Besides — even ugliness becomes affection, as they say. After only a few days of living together, the familiar scent of reptile had already become part of the equation.

I let out a sigh and took my hand off the forge.

"I'll let it slide. Just this once."

"Huh…?"

"If you act however you want again, next time you really will become a street snake god. Understood?"

The moment the words left my mouth, the tears clinging to Nagi's face evaporated.

"Hmph~ You'll let it slide? What's this, all of a sudden?"

Nagi planted both hands on her hips and thrust out a chest that wasn't there.

"Gods know everything! The truth is Hanul finds Nagi so, so cute that he just couldn't bring himself to kick her out, right?"

"It's because of the forge."

"You were worried Nagi would have a hard time out there, right? Hanul pretends to be cold on the outside, but deep down he's completely fallen for Nagi-nim, hasn't he?"

How many times had I seen that face already today.

"So dishonest! But Nagi is generous, so Nagi will accept even that clumsy affection!"

Humming a little tune, Nagi wriggled the blanket back around her body. Then, like a silver caterpillar, she began squirming her way back up the stairs.

"Nagi-nim is going back to finish her morning nap! Grill some meat for lunch later!"

"That's a remarkably specific demand from someone who was about to get thrown out."

"Those who overcome trials are always rewarded!"

I didn't even have the energy left to argue.

Maybe escaping this snake god had been impossible from the start.

Where a god stays and where a god leaves is beyond the power of humans, after all.

But the practical problems still remained.

I looked back and forth between the pile of grocery receipts on the workbench and the silver shed-skin fragments scattered across the floor.

The forge got better, which is great… but what am I supposed to do about next month's credit card bill?

The flames burned with perfect stability.

Everything was stable — except my finances.