Dusty (5): The Picky Eater
As usual for people with Destiny, Evel had her own issues—though not as severe as mine.
"Look at this. I found it in the forest."
One of them was this pointless hoarding habit. Like a squirrel gathering acorns, she kept bringing stuff home. And like a squirrel, she'd hand it to me and then completely forget about it, losing all interest. The things she brought varied wildly. From simple stuff like rocks or flowers to, if she got lucky, coins or fruit. If she was unlucky, it'd be animal droppings or bugs.
When I first came to the cabin, it stressed me out. But humans adapt, so now I just treat it like daily gacha time—once a day.
Anyway, today Evel brought something back too.
"I'm busy. Leave it there and go."
"Okay."
She set the item next to me and plopped down in the corner. It was a tree branch split neatly in a Y-shape. Pretty tame today.
Leaving Evel to play in the dirt with the now-adult fox, I focused on my left arm.
"Dusty, come out."
Ssssh—.
At my command, black sludge oozed out from beyond the geometric patterns etched on my arm. It spread from my feet, slowly dyeing the ground dark until half the area in my vision was swallowed in blackness.
It had been a month since I transplanted Dusty to my left arm. Since it couldn't speak, figuring out its abilities was all on me. Not knowing what was what, I just fed it whatever it seemed to crave.
And this was the result.
Ssssh—scratchscratchscratchscratch.
Grotesque synesthetic phenomena overwhelmed the space around me. Lines divided the air, darkness filled the gaps, and scratching sounds layered over it all. Geometric shapes of black lines, shadows cast in a midnight forest, the sound of a quill scribbling on parchment. That's what I'd fed Dusty so far.
Of those, only the patterns on my arm had physical force. How to use it effectively would take more thought, but it seemed perfect for disrupting senses and blocking vision.
'Feed it more, and it could cover my entire field of view.'
I nodded and reabsorbed the veil. The phenomena engulfing the area smoothly sucked back into my left arm.
I wondered if a goblin might wander by for practice. It's a fantasy world, after all. That'd help me get a feel for it.
I was lost in thought when—
"Hey, look at this. Voxy hunted it."
Evel had snuck up and was holding something out to me. In her hand was a dead field mouse, a gift from the fox's hunt.
Gacha epic fail. What a unlucky day.
"Throw it away. Gross."
"Okay."
Evel unhesitatingly chucked the corpse at my feet. I recoiled in disgust, stepping back.
This girl always tosses stuff right next to me.
"You wanna die?"
"Dusty! Don't say bad words."
Suppressing the urge to pick it up and hurl it back, I pulled out parchment and a quill from my pocket.
[Don't throw dead mouse corpses at your friend's face.]
No scratching sound came. Since Dusty loved that noise so much, I fed it to it every time I wrote these reflections.
After scribbling that worthless reflection ten times or so—
Bzzz—.
My left arm vibrated faintly. A familiar signal now. Dusty throwing a tantrum: 'I wanna eat that.'
My gaze fell to the mouse corpse at my feet.
"...You want that?"
Damn, it was picky as hell. My face twisted in real time.
But curiosity bubbled up too. What if? I might class-change into a necromancer summoning zombie hordes.
Cool scenes from fantasy webtoons in my past life flashed through my mind. I wanted to try that. So badass. Lone Necromancer.
"...Fine. Eat."
I reached out, and shadows flowed from my arm, enveloping the corpse. Ignoring the flesh and bloodstains, it skimmed the surface and latched onto the clouded eyes.
"Wait, what?"
No time to question. The eyeballs popped out and vanished into the darkness.
The shadows, mission accomplished, wobbled contentedly before slinking back up my forearm.
"........."
I froze, hand outstretched in midair. The mouse corpse lay at my feet, untouched—no drop of blood or strand of fur missing. Just empty sockets where eyes should be.
...Necromancer my ass. What a disgustingly finicky appetite.
"Hold on, then that means..."
No way. I looked down at my left arm. Amid the chaotic etched lines, two brand-new red pupils floated.
Glossy eyeballs on my forearm rolled around and met my gaze.
"...Fucking hell."
Chills crawled over me. What cosmic horror bullshit was this?
"Hey, what the hell is this? Creepy as shit. Close your eyes."
I poked the new eyes with my finger. They teared up, blinking as if stung.
"Don't open them without my permission."
Did my shout work? The red eyes quivered pitifully, then sank beneath the skin and vanished.
Thank god. I was not living with eyeballs on my arm forever.
"Best to be careful with that."
Zepeto had come out of the cabin and approached me. He had a large sack on his back, from which he pulled bandages.
"Cover your arm with these. If anyone sees it, you won't hear kind words."
I nodded. After meticulously wrapping my left arm, Zepeto took the lead.
"Well then, shall we go?"
Today was the once-a-month trip to town.
# Oldmill Town was peaceful. A worn, massive waterwheel turned slowly, and the aroma of freshly milled flour baked into hearty bread wafted through the streets.
But it wasn't just some rural village. Sitting at a crossroads of the kingdom's major trade routes, the streets buzzed with merchants and travelers from afar. With so many outsiders, even sizable inns and taverns—fit for mid-sized cities—clustered around the square, two or three strong.
Thanks to the nearby White Tower, shops sold magical goods, and Zepeto stopped by monthly to buy and sell.
It was a two-hour trek from the forest, but I liked these days. I got to eat meat out.
The tavern's beef stew was delicious. Zepeto sometimes bought ingredients here to make it himself, but it never quite matched.
"Innkeep, two milks and a hearty beef stew, please. Oh, and a cool ale too."
The tavern was rowdy even midday, with mercenaries knocking back drinks and merchants haggling. Loud boasts, laughter, sizzling meat, clanging armor and cloth. A bustling energy the cabin lacked filled the space.
"Heard that? New labyrinth opened in Anomaly."
"Just for adventurers."
"Nah, why not? Mercs can go too."
"You're nuts? I wanna live long and thin."
I didn't love crowds, but I liked taverns. Sit still, and world news came free.
The 'Anomaly' they gossiped about was the kingdom's biggest labyrinth city. A new labyrinth meant quick riches—or deadly anomalies spilling out.
Artifacts from there fetched high prices, apparently. But that was worlds away from a cabin hermit like me. I'd eat my stew and head home.
"Here you go!"
Right on cue, the mustachioed innkeep arrived with a tray. Two glasses of milky white milk, frothy ale, steaming pot of beef stew, and rye bread followed.
"Thanks for the meal."
I grabbed a spoon and shoveled a big bite of stew. Rich meat broth and soft mashed potatoes filled my mouth. Meat was always right.
"So, child. Remembered your name yet?"
As I scarfed down my meal, Zepeto asked his usual question.
"...No."
I shook my head. Even with Dusty moved to my arm, I was the same. Still no name recall, same cranky personality. Dusty just relocated; the mess it made in my head stayed uncleaned.
Cleaning that was my future task. Positives? No more rampages in my brain. And a detached view of the world.
Past-life me would've fainted or demanded amputation at eyes on my arm. Now? 'Ew, gross.' And move on. Toughened mind—or broken. Depends on the spin.
Zepeto gave a wry smile at my calm, then nodded.
"No need to rush, child. Look inward calmly, refine yourself, and forgotten things will surface naturally in time."
"...Yeah."
I shrugged it off and dug back in. Next to me, Evel clutched bread in both hands, dunking and devouring it frantically. Starved after the long walk, apparently.
But eat neatly, please. Broth was splashing.
"Evel. Eat properly."
"Mmph!"
She mumbled back without even pretending to listen.
Splat.
Stew broth hit my clothes.
"........."
Sighing, I pulled out parchment and quill again to steady my nerves….
# After eating, Zepeto paid and turned to us still seated.
"Wait here a bit. I'll sell these and be back."
"Sure."
Watching Zepeto head to the market, I stood. Waiting was fine, but curiosity struck.
'Maybe the back alleys have something for Dusty.'
From what it'd eaten, its tastes were grim: quill scratches, forest shadows, mouse eyes. Better odds in dank alleys than the square.
"Evel, wait here."
"Okay."
Leaving her, I slipped into the dim, deserted alleys. Discarded leather pouches, broken bottles, mystery stains. Busy town meant messy alleys.
I poked around, but nothing tempted Dusty. Not even the usual alley thugs. Arm stayed quiet.
Shrugging off disappointment, I turned to leave—
"Hey, look at this."
Evel's voice. With something new, of course.
"Met this uncle back there."
"Heh heh heh, hi?"
Scar across his face, filthy leather armor, crude dagger at his belt. Classic alley scum, built for backstabs and pickpocketing.
"He got lost, so this nice uncle's gonna show the way."
"........."
I told her to stay put. Not only did she follow, she picked up living trash.
I glared at Evel.
"Evel."
"Yeah?"
"You wanna die?"
"The uncle said he'd give me yummy candy."
...What the hell was with today's gacha luck.