That's Not a Dog! It's Something Wearing a Dog's Skin! (3)

"That's not a dog! It's something wearing the shape of a dog!"

In that split second where not even a blink was allowed, Viscount's bloated flesh was sucked into Kkamang's bottomless maw. Kwajijik! The sight of a massive ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠human body crumpling into that impossibly narrow gap was bizarrely unreal. Solid human flesh proved it could morph like liquid under overwhelming force—a horrifying truth laid bare. The death rattle that tried to scatter across the blood-soaked carpet was crushed with a wet rupture and swallowed beyond the throat. Once even those thrashing thick arms vanished, all that remained on the floor was the owner's abandoned silver-decorated cane, rolling with a dull scrape.

"What in the world?!"

The servants outside, alerted by the eerie noise, flung open the secret room's door. What greeted them was a pitch-black entity flashing blood-red eyes, its endless abyssal jaws gaping wide.

"Wh-what the hell is that monster...! Shoot it! Fire now!"

Pistols were drawn in panic, erupting in unison. Taang! It was futile thrashing. The lead bullets striking the beast's hide vanished into the abyss like a drop of ink in the night sea, not even rippling the surface. As they froze in realization of the gunfire's uselessness, the beast's form shimmered like a heat haze and slipped smoothly into the floor's shadow.

Their reason froze white at the phenomenon beyond human comprehension. Then, like a deep-sea predator breaching the surface, a massive maw surged from the thick shadow behind them.

"■■■■■-!!!"

"Kwaaaak!"

The grotesque roar tangled with agonized screams. The curtain rose on a blood-soaked hunt across the carpet.

I was totally shocked. Kkamang showed up, and then that smelly gross fat uncle went poof and disappeared!

"Whoa! Good job, Kkamang!"

I clapped my hands. A whole person fitting into that big mouth? Amazing. Why though? It felt kinda weird, but whatever. My Kkamang is a cute puppy. What's the problem?

Not stopping there, Kkamang started playing tag with the other people who came into the room.

"Kyaaaa! Run!"

"Monster! It's a monster!"

"No!!! That's a demon! A demon!! Eeeeeek!!"

Everyone was running away like Kkamang was so scary or something. While racing around, Kkamang wagged its tail at me once, then vanished down the hallway.

"Kkamang! Have fun and come back!"

Come to think of it, Kkamang's been stuck in that tiny orphanage. I gotta take it for walks sometimes as its owner. Yeah, gotta be a good adult dog owner! Good owners care for their dogs and walk them lots.

Wait, hold on. Thinking back, that uncle just tried to touch me weirdly. In my fluffy cotton-candy brain, knowledge from my past life as an adult suddenly sparked.

"Gasp! No way!"

Those people... perverts? The kind who like little kids instead of grown women. Once my adult common sense kicked in, goosebumps exploded all over me.

"This is bad!"

Kkamang must've chased after the other perverts.

The blue chat window floating in the corner of my vision started turning a mad blood-red. New people too, but it's all glitchy and confusing. The text was fizzing and breaking. One thing's clear: Cradle sis and the others are super pissed. They hate the people in this building.

"Oh yeah! Kkamang!"

Can't lose it again. But I'm starving too.

"Ugh... food..."

I peeked cautiously out the door.

The hellish chase showed no sign of ending.

"Damn it! What the hell kind of magic beast is that?!"

A middle-aged man in a sweat-soaked tailcoat gasped raggedly.

"No idea! Even the encyclopedia has no record of such a heretical monster!"

The huddled noble beside him trembled, face drained of blood. They'd only come to discreetly enjoy some refined fun with the orphans, like proper gentlemen. But the sweet social venue turned into a slaughterhouse in under ten minutes.

The monster ignored physical limits. Wherever shadows fell, those jaws lurked. As they hid behind a display case, holding their breath, a gentleman's back appeared, pounding madly on a firmly shut door.

"Open up! Please, open the door! Hurry!"

Suddenly, the surface of the massive full-body mirror on the corridor wall rippled like a swamp, and the abyssal hound shot out like an arrow.

"Hiiik!"

A death cry tearing the lungs. Massive jaws pierced the gentleman's nape, dragging him straight into the mirror's shadow.

As despair tightened like suffocation, a sharp metallic ring echoed from the corridor's end—a man drawing his sword.

"Oh! Sir Kalstain!"

"The sword genius, youngest aura user?!"

Meeting the nobles' ecstatic expectations, dazzling blue aura exploded along the bloodied sword in the suited man's grip.

"A lowly monster dares rampage in the heart of the holy empire?!"

The hound, fresh from its mirror meal, oozed slime as it crawled back into the real corridor. Spotting new prey, it unleashed a chilling roar and charged the floor.

"■■■-!!"

The knight read the leap's trajectory perfectly, slashing diagonally across the beast's waist in a blue arc.

"A beast is just a beast!"

Kwajik! The aura-clad strike was merciless. The black body split cleanly, upper and lower halves flopping onto the marble floor.

Before the knight's arrogant victory smile could spread—

Kikikikikik!

From the severed stump, crimson-black tentacles spilled like guts, weaving like spiderwebs to perfectly stitch the torn flesh back together.

"Th-that's... impossible...!"

The knight's arrogance cracked before the supernatural regeneration. Then true despair descended, severing reason's thread.

A formless blue visual popped into the air before every human hiding in the mansion.

"Wh-what is this?!"

"You see it too?!"

This alien, geometric illusion had no place in the Holy Argentia Empire. As the club's gentlemen shook their heads in confusion, the mansion's space-time twisted like clay.

The physics upholding the building warped.

"Huh? Uwaaaak!"

"Space—space is bending!"

Those bursting through the emergency exit at the corridor's end plummeted back into the banquet hall's center. Nobles tumbling down spiral stairs slammed upside-down into the ceiling as gravity flipped. Secret rooms and corridors stretched and folded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠endlessly. In the chaotic hall where perspective and gravity shattered, the abyssal hound leaped shadow-to-shadow like stepping stones, resuming its hunt leisurely.

"Kuhuhuk!"

The genius knight's blood, from his torn body, flowed against inverted gravity, staining the white ceiling red.

I wandered the room for a while.

"Whoa! The building flipped!"

One uncle running the corridor suddenly dropped to the ceiling. Another opened a door and screamed at his own butt coming out. Directions and up-down all mixed up willy-nilly. Like a haunted house at an amusement park. Not Kkamang's doing, though. Maybe...?

Ah, Chairman did some donation thing. Not cheese or balloons, but still fun and weird. Gotta say hi.

"Hello... Chairman!"

Hot reaction. Chairman's the second-nicest after Cradle sis! That Wanderer guy's the bad one. As I wandered the room looking around, other kids from the orphanage huddled in a corner, crying scared and confused.

"Waaah!"

"Save us!"

I ran over and grabbed their hands.

"Kids, don't cry! Let's party!"

"P-party?"

"Yeah! Smell that yummy stuff? Isn't it close?"

The delicious smell was getting nearer anyway. Floor's red and slippery. Weird screams sometimes, but whatever—I'm hungry! I led the sniffling kids to one of the club's rooms.

"Whoaaaa!"

The table was loaded with all kinds of food. Fancy cakes, cookies, sweet juices we'd never see at the orphanage! We stuffed our faces with snacks and juice till our bellies nearly burst.

Heavy silence crushed the corridor. The lone man heaved torn-lung breaths toward the entrance, his priceless tailcoat long soaked to rags in blood.

"Open! Please open!"

He twisted the brass handle madly, flinging the door wide.

What the hell happened?!

He'd only meant to bestow charitable love on poor children with dignity. Then space bent, and that horrific monster burst from the shadows. Servants and members—gone. Not even meat scraps left.

No ordinary monster's power!

Space-time manipulation was a miracle even grand archmages of Argentia's seven towers barely handled. If not human, only one answer.

A demon from hell?

Whatever. Survive and escape first. Craving cool night air like salvation, he threw open the front door.

"Huh...?"

No escape. The blood-specked red-carpet corridor he'd desperately fled was replicated endlessly at perfect angles. Space's end and start looped like a coiled serpent.

"Hiiik...!"

The viscount staggered back, hurling himself at a nearby window.

"If the door won't...!"

He snatched a heavy iron chair, smashing it into the massive stained-glass window etched with holy icons. Kwangchang! Shimmering shards flew. His face ashen as he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lunged out— no chill night sky, no alley to flee. Beyond the broken frame: static geometric noise like a busted black-and-white TV, replacing the world. In that sizzling sea of uncertainty beyond reason, hundreds of blood-red eyes rolled pupils grotesquely toward the viscount.

"Ah, aaa..."

Reason snapped; he collapsed. His thick shadow from the chandelier above rose slitheringly, surging into the air. Kikikikik! The black hound gaped wide. Its maw tore past the throat to the spine, inverting grotesquely. Beyond the esophagus: a light-devouring black tunnel, walls lined with countless black spines whirring like industrial saws. A starved red gaze flashed from the depths.

"Ah, ahahaha...!"

The last survivor burst into mad laughter amid shattered sanity. Ujijik! Bone-and-flesh crunch ended it. The club's corridor sank into silence.

How much did we eat? When the house emptied and fell deathly quiet, plump Kkamang waddled back to the banquet hall.

"Kkamang! You're back?"

"Kek! Kek kek!"

Kkamang dry-heaved at my feet.

"Gasp! Kkamang! You okay?"

I patted its back. It promptly puked up a pile on the floor. Jjanggrang! Shiny watches and silver coins spilled out.

"Whoa! Kkamang gave money!"

Where from? Dunno. Stolen from bad perverts? Point is, we got cash.

"Good job, Kkamang!"

I excitedly scooped up the coins and watches. My smart Kkamang can even earn money.

"What now?"

The perv uncles are all chased off by Kkamang. Belly full—time to head back to the orphanage with Elia. Stay till real nice nobles adopt us.

"Kkamang! Know where home is?"

"Mung!"

Kkamang trotted ahead guiding us. Other kids followed too.

"You guys no home?"

"Y-yeah... followed for adoption..."

Poor things. Take 'em to our orphanage then. We escaped the twisty weird corridors and got out. Following smart Kkamang through foggy streets all night, we reached the familiar orphanage backyard.

"Yaaawn... sleepy."

I patted slightly plumper Kkamang and closed my eyes.

Dawn broke. Elia gasped seeing familiar silver hair curled beside her.

"Chloe...!"

Chloe, carted off in that nightmare carriage yesterday, slept peacefully drooling. At her feet, Kkamang stared up at Elia, tail wagging.

"No way... you brought her, Kkamang?"

"Mung!"

Little Elia cautiously petted Kkamang's head.

Meanwhile, the director's office erupted in morning shouts.

"That damn brat dares run and crawl back?! What if the viscount finds out!"

The orphanage director raged at news of Chloe sleeping in the backyard—even dragging in some ragamuffins. She grabbed a club.

"Damn it, that girl...!"

A worker burst in.

"Director! Director!"

"What now?!"

"Look at this!"

The extra edition morning paper he handed made her eyes tremble at the headline.

With trembling hands, she snatched the paper. Every member of that secret club she'd sold kids to—gone in one night.

Guess the club didn't leak...

Her old eyes spotted sleeping Chloe. Heavy silver coins and a luxury gold watch spilled from her skirt hem, glinting in sunlight—clearly the club's nobles' luxuries.

That damn brat, how...!

The glittering loot tempted more than it terrified. Glancing around, she hurriedly pocketed the coins and watch. Whatever happened last night, shut up to survive. The hag turned with a greedy smirk, oblivious.

"Churp...!"

To the small black dog behind her, smacking its lips meaningfully.

In a grand mansion study, a top-grade chandelier glowed softly. Only the scratch of a quill on the massive mahogany desk echoed dryly. Golden hair spilled beside the inkwell, gleaming in morning sun; below, red eyes mechanically scanned dozens of documents and the morning paper. Barely ten years old—too weary, obsessive for a child.

Tak.

The nib paused on paper. Roën's gaze flickered at the headline.

"Asphodel Club... vanished overnight?"

A faint groan as she pinched her brow.

Too fast.

In her memories, this club sparked a child abduction scandal rocking Argentia's social scene years later. It was supposed to. But core members erased in one night?

Timeline twisted again?

Another causal error from regression? Doubt passed quickly.

"Whatever."

Cool silence settled. Roën gripped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the quill anew, slashing red lines over the black-listed names. Ruthlessly. Emotionlessly. One after another.

Atop the top sheet in her hand: