The Pitiful Puppy

"Telling you to change this place too was just a joke on my part, but I do sincerely hope you'll fix up the house a little."

Song Gaon, who had been staring at Lee Suho's back as he spoke — absently stroking his own nameplate — found herself at a loss for words.

She had been wondering why, in the Demon King's castle, there was no Demon King to be found — only a single puppy, soaked to the bone by the rain, staring blankly up at the sky from beneath the eaves. And so she held her silence for a while, careful not to startle the poor thing.

When he stole a glance back over his shoulder and met her eyes, she gave a small nod and walked over to him.

Gripping Lee Suho by the shoulders like a hero arrived to slay the Demon King, Song Gaon declared, as though sealing some grand resolution:

"...All right. Then I'll take care of the house."

Renovating the interior hadn't been in the contract with the Demon King. But this was no contract with the Demon King. This was a matter of fixing up a pitiful puppy's home.

'It's just that he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looks so pathetic. Besides, I'd only be filling his house with things bought with his own money.'

Telling herself that she might as well seize this chance to buy up, on his dime, all the luxuries she had never been able to experience and savor a brief taste of wealth and glory, Song Gaon drew up a plan to remake his house to her own taste. With the Demon King's blessing secured, there was nothing left to fear.

"I didn't think you'd agree so readily, Noona... Thank you."

"No, it's because I intend to spend your money however I please. You're the one covering living expenses, remember?"

"That I am."

With the Demon King's sign-off now extracted, the corners of her mouth curled upward.

The rooms actually in use were the bathroom, the kitchen, and the living room — end of list. For all the house's additional bedrooms, they were pitch-black chambers she doubted anyone had ever truly lived in.

Picturing in her mind a Lee Suho who must have lived quietly in all that space, claiming only a small corner of it, without even the television or computer that stake out a corner of every ordinary home, Song Gaon sighed inwardly.

'Was he lonely? No — but even so, he wouldn't have dragged a serial novelist all the way here just to demand she properly finish every last work.'

In the end, the sigh she couldn't swallow slipped out through her lips.

"Haah... so much to buy... this is so much fun."

To catch the sigh that had escaped through the tiny crack of her mouth, Song Gaon said it as naturally as she could manage.

"Are you actually enjoying yourself?"

"Yep. This is the face of someone agonizing over having too much to buy. Remember it well."

Figuring that, Demon King or not, his instincts were first-rate, Song Gaon spoke instead as if to loom threateningly over him — and patted his head. Like she was telling the puppy under the eaves, let's go to our house. Lee Suho simply accepted the touch, gazed up at her face, and answered in a low voice.

"Yes, I'll remember. Please buy in moderation."

"Not a chance. Prepare to be fleeced."

The smile on Song Gaon's lips trembled more than usual.

I had only just managed to pin down the emotions that kept lurching this way and that.

"Suho-ya. Even if this is your room, you can't just leave documents strewn about like you would at the office."

The papers sprawled across the desk at the center of the U-shaped sofa arrangement looked endlessly forlorn, as if begging for a human hand to come along.

I changed the subject, telling Suho to clear away the soldiers who had barged into the Demon King's castle without a shred of fear and been cut down by the Demon King for it — and he whipped his head around to stare at the desk.

"Ah. I was only skimming them."

"Still, tidy them up. The moment you start organizing, they only multiply."

"Hmm. Understood."

Handing the busy puppy a stack of papers in place of a toy, I turned my gaze away and tried to sort through the emotions that had come welling up out of nowhere.

There were no emotions left to sort. Not because the sorting was done — because the scream shrieking up from my ankle had left me unable to think of anything at all.

'How on earth do women wear these things all day?'

Thinking that sitting down might ease things, I tried the sofa — but my ankle went right on screaming. All that had changed was the weight bearing down on it; of course it still hurt, bent out of shape as it was. Desperate to salvage the poor thing, I tried pulling my foot further back, then angling it sideways, but no matter what I did, its desperate wailing would not stop.

"Noona. Are you even listening to me?"

Whatever Suho had been saying over those screams had never reached me, so I answered vaguely.

"Huh?"

"I said, if you ever come by the office later, could you give me a hand sorting through those?"

Following his hand with my eyes, I found a dizzying heap of files waiting to greet me. The folders strewn from the desktop to every corner of the floor seemed, just like them, to hint at my own future — another intruder who had wandered into the Demon King's castle.

"Uh... let me think about it...?"

— Knock, knock.

"Samonim, I've brought your slippers."

"Ah, thank you, Yeji. But aren't these way too small..? Haah..."

Yeji, arriving with the sacred artifact that would deliver me, was a sight for sore eyes. But one look at slippers that appeared barely the size of a single hand, and I couldn't help but sigh.

"Nope. Your feet are this size, unnie. Try them on."

Taking the slippers, I sneaked a glance at the size printed inside. They really were tiny.

'245mm? That's a size I haven't worn since I was a kid.'

My original shoe size had been 270mm, so complaining that the slippers Yeji handed over were too small would have been entirely fair. But as I set ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them on the floor and stepped out of my heels to gauge the fit, the slippers — only slightly larger than the heels — looked like they might actually suit my feet. Riding the relief, no, the outright liberation, of escaping the high heels, I slipped them on. A perfect fit.

'It's my own body, and yet Yeji knows it better than I do?'

"What? Why do they fit perfectly?"

"Because your body has shrunk by exactly that much."

"Ah... I suppose so... Ahh, these are comfortable..."

They were the ordinary pink slippers you see everywhere, with two white stripes across the top. Perfectly common slippers, and yet — whether it was the way they hugged my feet or the plush softness of them — I felt my heart settle.

The emotions that had risen as I watched Lee Suho died away. Only now that my heart had steadied did I remember why I had come here in the first place.

"Suho-ya."

"Yes."

"Give me my laptop."

"It's on my desk, so sit in your own seat and work."

Suho, sipping juice on the sofa as he read through the bundle of papers, glanced back over his shoulder once before saying it.

"Okay. Then I'll borrow your seat."

I pulled out the leather chair from behind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the desk — same feel as the sofa — and sat down, only to find it unexpectedly, absurdly high.

'So I really have gotten short.'

I pulled the lever, lowered the chair, and opened the laptop; the screen I saw every day felt almost welcoming. Out of habit I checked my notifications, then set my mind to figuring out how to word the announcement.

"Hey. Suho-ya."

"Yes?"

"Come here a sec."

Yeji had vanished again — when had she slipped out this time? At my call, Lee Suho flung the papers aside once more and came scooting over, resting a light hand on my shoulder as he peered at the laptop.

"What is it?"

"I've never even watched an internet stream, and I've got the rough content of the announcement figured out, but don't I need to write in where it's happening and all that?"

I planned to write the announcement essentially as an apology: a long-term hiatus or a shift to practice writing; every deleted novel would resume serialization; and while not all at once, every work I had ever written would be seen through to the end.

"You'll be streaming on Neotube and T-Manyeo."

"Neotube I get, but what's T-Manyeo?"

"It exists. I'll handle the stream setup myself, or bring someone in to do it, so don't worry too much — just write the announcement."

"Hmm. Okay. Date and time?"

"I was thinking about a week out, but the more I consider it, holding it on the weekend might give us a better chance to see how readers react and actually talk with them."

"So?"

In my heart of hearts, I hoped as few people as possible would tune in — but Lee Suho, ever the voice of sound reason, proposed the weekend.

"Saturday evening, seven o'clock?"

"Sure."

"Ah — this Saturday, Noona. Three days from now."

I had been about to claim I'd assumed it was next Saturday — but a shiver ran through me at Lee Suho's composure, sealing off every escape route before I could even look for one.

"Fine. I'd better write the announcement first. I'll just post the same notice on every work, right?"

"That would be for the best. Most of them have probably guessed by now that all the pen names are you."

I already knew the theory had been making the rounds in the community — that all five authors were, in truth, me.

"Right."

"Will this do?"

"Yes. There's plenty more to say on the stream anyway."

"Where are you going to stream from?"

"There's a spare room at home — let's turn one into your studio-slash-streaming room."

'It was house decorating I'd have to do anyway, so it might as well be to my taste.'

"Then first things first — the rest can wait, but I need to sort out a desk and a chair."

"Right. Oh — and we'll need to get a separate computer for streaming."

"Really? Well, as for the computer, I can build it myself as long as I have the parts..."

"The mart can wait a little while — how about we go look at furniture first, Noona?"

"Sure, let's do that. Mind if we leave work a little early? I think it's best to go now."

Four in the afternoon. Neither especially late nor especially early.

'Going now would actually work out fine... but dragging along someone in the middle of work feels off...'

"Couldn't you go on ahead, place the orders, and just request next-day delivery?"

"I suppose so. That works. But browsing around on my own sounds exhausting — mind if I take Yeji with me?"

"At this rate, she'll be your secretary, not mine... Yes. Take her."

"Okay. Thanks."