"That's Not a Dog! It's Something Wearing a Dog's Skin! (2)"
"That's not a dog! It's something wearing the form of a dog!"
A few days had passed since the puppy came back at dawn.
"Chloe! Kkamang... Kkamang got flattened again!"
Elia screamed in horror.
In the orphanage backyard, our Kkamang lay squashed flat under a massive cart wheel.
Kkamang was the name of our orphanage puppy. We named him that because he was pitch black and adorable. I came up with it cleverly, drawing on my adult memories.
I'm a genius, after all!
Sadly, this time Kkamang had been run over by a cart. Poor little Kkamang...
"Kkiing!"
But from his flattened, bedbug-pancake state, he went pop! and bounced right back up. Just like nothing happened, he wagged his tail and leaped straight into my arms.
"Waaah! Kkamang, you're the best!"
I clapped excitedly.
Last time he got run over by a carriage and came back to life, so a cart wheel was nothing. Come to think of it, I'd isekai'd into a novel myself. Generic romance-fantasy protagonists always have divine beasts or spirits as pets with insane powers. An immortal puppy? This was totally the classic early-webnovel reward cliché.
Which meant the blue chat window floating in front of me had to be some kind of transmigrator-exclusive status screen. That was the most perfect explanation. Definitely!
Like a proper adult in a kid's body, I'd nailed a wise and flawless deduction. See? I'm so smart.
Of course, my reasoning dragged on too long, and my head started throbbing again. Ugh, whatever. Complicated stuff just gives me a headache.
As I rubbed my spinning eyes, shattered letters blazed noisily in the air before me.
I got scared all of a sudden. By adult common sense, there's no such thing as a free lunch in this world. What if they took all my bread? Or... no way, were they after my ratty old blanket?
I hugged Kkamang tight and stared at the blue window with my shaky eyes.
"Uu... I don't have anything though..."
Bread? Did I need to give bread? Or oatmeal porridge? I had no money. What to do? I stomped my feet in panic.
"Eh? Big sis? I just have to do that?"
I sighed in relief and grinned wide. Calling her big sis was no big deal.
"Cradle big sis! Thank youuu!"
Got to be polite with greetings here. That's basic adult-man common sense. I clasped my hands politely and bowed deeply at the waist.
As I did a full belly bow, the chat letters shot upward like an upside-down waterfall.
That Room's Wanderer jerk suddenly started begging for "oppa" out of nowhere. Seeing his ID made me pout.
"No way! You're the bad guy who threw the headache book at me!"
I stuck my tongue out at the air, and the chat flooded with hundreds of [rofl^!%lol] messages.
Seeing Room's Wanderer fake-cry had me cracking up. Anyway, that's how Kkamang joined my orphanage routine.
Kkamang was truly an amazing pet. Normally, he could slip right into the dark shadow at my feet. So the fat, evil orphanage director granny and the workers never spotted him. Only me, Elia, and the other orphanage kids could see him.
Woooow!
"Crunch crunch!"
"Uwaaa..."
And Kkamang didn't even need special food. At first I wondered if I should tear off some of my bread for him, but nope—he snapped up a passing bug in a flash. Not satisfied, he prowled every corner of the orphanage, gaping his jaws wide at every gross roach or millipede he spotted and gobbling them all up.
"Over there! Bug!"
"Go get it, Kkamang!"
"Mung!"
One command from me, and he'd swallow the bug in seconds.
Thanks to that, Kkamang became the orphanage kids' hero overnight.
"Kkamang, you're the real MVP!"
"Thanks, Kkamang!"
Elia seemed weirdly wary of him at first, but after seeing him devour bugs, she was soon scratching under his chin.
A few peaceful, hungry weeks passed like that.
"Line up straight! No sniffling! You wanna stay here forever? Huh?"
The director granny lined us up like luggage in the yard and barked at us.
"You worthless bug-eaters! So slow you're slower than a snail! High-class folks are coming!"
What we were prepping for was the monthly event that hit the orphanage like clockwork. Supposedly, rich nobles or merchants would show up to pick kids for sponsorship.
Soon, a super fancy, huge carriage pulled up to the orphanage. The man who stepped out was a middle-aged guy with a bulging belly and oily skin glistening with grease.
"Now, everyone, greet the noble sir!"
"Hello...!"
The noble man smiled as he eyed the greeting kids. He scanned us all, then stopped right in front of me.
"Hmm, this one. That silver hair... perfect."
The granny rubbed her palms and bowed low.
"Aigoo, Viscount sir! Such excellent taste!"
My eyes went wide. No way, was this...?
Yay! I'm getting adopted!
This had to be peak romance-fantasy cliché. I thought I was just an extra, but turns out I'm a lost noble daughter getting pampered after adoption!
Woo-hoo! Noble life!
Gonna eat meat every day and suck on honey!
Bit fast-paced, but whatever. I grinned ear-to-ear and hopped right into the fancy carriage the man led me to.
The man chuckled. "That excited, huh?"
"Yes!"
The inside was all plush, with the smell of yummy cookies. Chloe's future was nothing but flower roads from here!
The heavy ebony carriage carrying Chloe ruthlessly barreled through the orphanage's rusty iron gates.
"No... Chloe...!"
Elia panted as she dashed down the orphanage back alley.
Just moments ago, passing the director's office, she'd overheard a secretive, nauseating conversation between the director and a shady broker.
"That viscount's tastes are so twisted. Dragging off half-grown lambs and turning them into that every time. Third one this month already, right?"
"Shh! We get paid fat stacks, that's all that matters. Keep your mouth shut!"
The "adoptions" they talked about at the orphanage weren't shining salvation. Too young to grasp every word, but Elia sensed it instinctively. That carriage wasn't heading to heaven. It was a one-way express to filthy greed.
Elia tried to chase it somehow, but her scrawny, starved kid legs couldn't keep up.
"Kyaaak!"
In her haste, Elia tripped over a stone. Red blood seeped from her knee.
"Chloe... no...!"
Elia's despairing sobs echoed mournfully down the foggy lane.
The carriage sped past the bustling streets, stopping at a massive mansion on the deserted outskirts. A secretive noble social club with no sign.
"Come on, little miss. This way."
The viscount flashed a greasy smile and led Chloe's tiny hand into the deepest, flashiest private room.
Clank. The heavy lock clicked shut, echoing through the room.
The air was stifling with thick red carpet and heavy incense.
The viscount approached Chloe, huffing roughly. Sticky sweat beaded on his forehead, and his dull eyes gleamed grotesquely.
"Our pretty little miss... got some dust on your collar. Come here. I'll wipe it off."
As his thick fingers reached for her cheek—
"Eek!"
Chloe flinched away from the viscount's hand like it burned.
"Mister! You're gross...!"
Chloe's face crumpled like wadded paper. It wasn't just a stranger approaching. Deep in her cotton-candy-melted cognition, a primal disgust surged from her past life as an adult man.
An old, greasy dude drooling as he closed in? Way too much for Chloe.
There was another reason too.
What's this? Not adoption?
No sign of the dinner or steak feast she'd imagined. Of course, the viscount had no intention—or need—to understand Chloe's little hunger tantrum.
"Wh-what? Gross?"
The viscount's face flushed purple with rage.
"You filthy little orphan brat, scorning a noble's grace?!"
He snarled and raised his thick hand high, poised to shatter her delicate cheek.
That instant, the blue chat window in the corner of Chloe's vision flushed blood-red with madness.
Their killing intent pierced the text, crushing the space itself. The room's ornate chandelier rattled.
The law of the universe teetered on the brink of twisting.
Slurp!
At Chloe's feet, the small shadow cast by the candle rippled like a swamp. A black furball plopped out.
Kkamang.
"What the? Where'd this stray mutt roll in from?"
The viscount sneered and moved to kick Kkamang.
That moment, the adorable Kkamang's muzzle tore past his ears to his throat with a grotesque ripping sound, splitting open unnaturally.
Gigigigigreeek!
Inside the gaping maw, no dog teeth—instead, hundreds of black spines jutted like deep-sea reefs, swirling in a vortex. At the center of that abyssal throat, a massive, bloodshot eye blinked and stared straight at the viscount.
It was Kkamang. It would always be Kkamang. The ever-ongoing Kkamang-being barked.
"■■■■■-!!!!"
The viscount's sneer twisted into a scream that tore the air.
"Aieeeeeeeeek!"