Chapter 9: A Dog's Habits Die Hard
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 9: A Dog's Habits Die Hard
Sunlight does not enter the Abyss.
In this deepest of lands, cursed by Mother Earth, a space filled with nothing but pitch-black darkness, the only thing that heralded the morning was the blare of an alarm clock. Instead of the warm sunlight that tickled the skin, a sharp, ear-splitting ring forced me awake.
A high, blue sky, clouds like little boats floating upon it, warm sunlight and a refreshing breeze… things one could naturally enjoy on the surface.
But here in the Abyss, there were only angular buildings dreaming of squares, hard concrete, artificial noise, and lights that mimicked the sun.
Things born of the sky bring peace to the mind, but things born of man do nothing but grate on the nerves. It must be because all of humanity’s creations are nothing but waste.
The best parts are kept within, while the unpleasant parts are filtered out again and again, only to be expelled as refuse.
That must be why we distance ourselves from the artificial, even while living among people.
“…Dammit. Can’t they make this alarm clock any quieter?”
I sat up, clutching my stiff shoulder. My body, tormented by the Dog King for two days straight, screamed in protest, but if I left it be, that alarm would devour what little stamina I had left. It was the kind of noise that inflicted physical damage.
The alarm clocks made by the Military State were all standardized wall-mounted models. The message was clear: once you’re awake, get up and don’t lie back down. Befitting a nation that does not tolerate laziness. Staggering to my feet, I climbed onto a chair and turned the alarm’s gears in the prescribed sequence.
One click to the left, four to the right, then two back to the left.
With a final zrrrrr-, the alarm faded like a dying cricket. Not that I wanted to go back to sleep with my head still ringing. I ran a hand through my hair and paced around the room.
The performance is top-notch, I’ll give them that, the bastards.
The room was small, but it had everything one needed. To put it nicely, the furniture was arranged efficiently. To put it badly, they’d just crammed everything into a tiny space. If I held the cabinet with my left hand and stretched out my right, I could touch the sink on the opposite wall. The water from the faucet could be used for washing or drinking, but the ration was too small for both.
But the next room was empty. Its daily water ration would still be there. I decided to wash my hair in the next room and gulped down the tap water.
A room so small I could embrace it all just by spreading my arms. Tantalus, originally inhabited only by prisoners and laborers, was cramped and squalid. At least they hadn't used flimsy partitions for the walls, this being a prison, but that only made the suffocating air feel heavier.
The important thing to remember, however, was that thanks to the massive prison break a few days ago, there weren't many people left.
“I’ll tear down the wall and combine this room with the one next door.”
What makes a place good to live in?
The answer is simple.
A place with abundant resources and few people.
The reason large houses are expensive is that the population density is lower.
Amazingly, the Tantalus of today… met the conditions for a good life.
“Hahahaha!”
I would demolish these nefarious concrete walls, merge five rooms, and live like a king. Five times the daily water ration. At this rate, I could even shower every day.
No, why get hung up on rations? I’ll just go straight to the water tank and take a bath. A life no different from an emperor’s!
I left the room with a wicked smile. I had just slammed the lockless door shut and was designing my happy new life of leisure when it happened.
“Woof woof!”
Just then, I saw a familiar shadow at the end of the hall.
…What is she doing here?
Azzy ran down the corridor, sniffed me as if to confirm my identity, and then began to circle me. She looked for all the world like a slaughter-dog. I shook my head, terrified.
“N-no. Azzy. Stop. I really can’t, not anymore, it’s too much…”
“Woof! Me, hungry!”
For some reason, I felt a wave of relief at her words.
*
“The Military State… you crazy bastards. You call this a pantry?”
To live, one must eat. You put food in your mouth, digest it in your stomach, and burn the resulting calories to move your body. It’s a law of nature so obvious it needs no explanation.
And the Military State, which exploited everything in the world, exploited even that law.
The Tantalus Education Facility was not a place for keeping people alive. It was a place for killing them.
Those the Military State couldn’t kill due to their own abilities, or because they feared the repercussions, or because it would consume too many resources, or because of the political burden. Tantalus was the place where such individuals were swept up and thrown away like leftovers.
And the method they chose to kill these isolated people was similar to what strategists had done throughout history.
“Dammit. There are only a few cans of meat left…”
It wasn’t that there was no food at all. Some prisoners, like the Progenitor Tyrkanzyaka, couldn’t die of starvation. If they didn’t provide any food, only that type of prisoner would survive in blissful harmony. That wasn’t what the Military State wanted.
“But a one-pyeong pantry for a prison of this size? Their intentions are crystal clear.” [A pyeong is a Korean unit of area, roughly 3.3 square meters or 35.5 square feet.]
They were determined to prevent anyone from ‘stockpiling’ food. That much was obvious. The prisoners would grow desperate and anxious if they had to rely on the supplies that were dropped off from time to time. And they would hunt each other to acquire resources.
“They probably gave just enough food to stave off starvation. ‘If you want more, start killing each other,’ that sort of thing.”
But didn’t I say it before? A good place to live is one with resources, but few people.
The pantry was far too small for this massive prison, but right now, there were only four of us, including me. Vampires don’t even eat. I could just make dog food for the dog. That left just me and the Regressor.
It was more than enough for two people. Plus, this was the Abyss; there were no diligent workers of Mother Earth like bugs or mold, so I didn't have to worry about anything spoiling.
“Tsk. Sorry, Azzy. I’m going to have to cut back on your meat from now on.”
“Woof?! Arf! Arf!”
Don’t bark. It can’t be helped. People come before dogs.
Three cans of meat. Twenty-three cans of beans. Starch and flour… It’ll be dry, but I can survive. And what, they won’t send supplies now that they know people are here? If I factor that in, I should be able to eat like a king.
“I have to meet the vampire tonight, so I should eat something hearty.”
I’d just grabbed a quick bite on my first day, but it looked like I’d be here for a while, so I needed to eat properly. I decided to cook for the first time in ages. I opened a can of compressed beans and emptied it into a pot.
“Azzy. Do you like beans?”
“Woof! Yes! Beans, good!”
“Then again, is there anything you don’t like?”
I turned the faucet, and water gushed out. It was a makeshift kitchen with just a single stove, but the plumbing seemed to be working. I added water to the dried beans from the compressed can to rehydrate them. The parched beans swelled up in an instant.
They were cooked with vegetables before being canned. After a decent soak, you could just boil them to get a passable dish of baked beans, but the monotonous flavor would get old fast. It would be a shame to stop here.
I made a dough with some flour I’d scooped up and rolled it out flat. I tore off enough for a pie crust and rolled the rest into a ball, covering it with an overturned tray.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!”
In the meantime, the beans, having soaked up plenty of water, had swelled to their full size. Azzy excitedly pranced around the pot.
The volume was so immense it was hard to imagine it had all come from that tiny can. I couldn't tell if I had rehydrated beans or planted a seed and harvested them myself.
“Woof! It got bigger! The food got bigger!”
“Yeah, yeah. Good for you.”
The Military State wasn’t good at much else, but their military rations were something else. To think they compressed several days’ worth of beans into this tiny can. As expected of a nation that was always serious about war.
Spices were a luxury. There was no way they’d be in a prison. All I had was salt and some bone-dry cabbage. I wasn’t thrilled, but I should be thankful for the cabbage. The Military State was the type to seriously consider classifying even vegetables—bulky and low in calories—as luxury items.
I washed the cabbage and set it down. Azzy immediately made a face and said:
“Me, no like greens!”
“I’m not giving you any, so don’t worry.”
Alright. Time to cook. I added salt and the vegetables to the pot of dried beans and brought it to a boil. Meanwhile, I put the dough in the oven next to the stove. As the pot came to a simmer, I thickened the stew with a starch slurry. The lightly seasoned water gradually thickened, transforming into an edible meal.
Now, all that was left was to wait.
The wait was tedious. As I watched the simmering pot, I heard a scuffling sound beside me. Azzy, whose patience was ten times shorter than mine, was chasing her own tail, spinning in circles.
Dust and fur flew up with every turn. I scowled and scolded her.
“Hey. Hey. You’re getting fur everywhere. Go spin outside.”
“Hungry! Hungry!”
“You can’t eat your own fur, can you?”
She had a human form, so besides her tail and hair, she didn’t have fur anywhere else, yet she shed so much. Azzy stopped for a moment at my words, but it didn’t last long. She was fidgeting with boredom. Unable to resist the smell, she looked like she was about to shove her face into the pot at any moment.
“Wait!”
“Hungryhungryhungryhungry!”
This wasn’t working. She was starting to look at me like I was her next meal. I quickly grabbed a ladle and stirred the stew.
The remnants of mashed beans and floating vegetables swirled together. The dregs that had been mixed in during the canning process gathered in one spot. I scooped them all up with the ladle. A ladleful of stew filled with debris, floating bits, and bean skins.
I poured that scoop into an empty can. Then I took the bell from my pocket.
Tinkle, tinkle—.
“Woof! Woof!”
Azzy, who now perfectly understood the meaning of the bell’s sound, perked up and lowered her stance. I could see her lips glistening with drool. I placed the can of dog food on the floor.
“Here. Eat.”
Azzy immediately dropped to the ground and began to happily gobble up her food with loud nom nom sounds. I watched her eat with a warm expression.
Dogs really are wonderful animals. They can eat what humans leave behind.
My mood lifted, and I hummed a tune as I finished cooking.
The reduced stew had a sweetish flavor. The starch clung to my tongue, making me feel full just by holding it in my mouth.
Alright. Time to eat.
I gave the dusty table a quick wipe and placed the pot on it. I also took out the baked dough from the oven, which hadn't quite become bread yet. All I had was canned beans and a lump of flour, but what more could I ask for? If I was happy, it was a king’s feast.
Might as well set the mood. I sat up straight at the table and offered a prayer to Mother Earth. Thank you for this day’s daily bread, and may you watch over me even in this cursed land.
Alright. Let’s eat.
“Woof.”
When I opened my eyes, a dog was sitting at the table with me.
What the hell.
“Ahem. Azzy. What are you doing sitting at the table?”
“Woof! Give food!”
She held out a paw, apparently asking for her own bowl. Hadn’t I just given her the can as a dog bowl? I glanced down and saw she’d already licked it clean. This shameless puppy had finished her own portion and was now eyeing the human’s table.
Hah. Tsk. They say a dog’s habits die hard. She’s trying to walk all over me. I spoke sternly.
“Get down while I’m asking nicely. This is a table for people to eat at.”
“Woof.”
CRASH!
Her paw slammed the table, and the steel tabletop shot three centimeters into the air. I saw cooked beans fly past my vision. My bowl and utensils were also suspended in mid-air.
Clang, clatter.
The falling pot and bowl created a unique harmony, like a symphony played only with percussion instruments. Beyond it, a puppy licking her lips was glaring at me.
With a trembling hand, I picked up the empty can from the floor. She had licked it so clean you could believe it had just come from the factory. Using this as her dog bowl, I filled the ladle to the brim with bean stew and…
“Beans.”
I added a heaping scoop of beans as well. Then, I gave the bell a single jingle and slid the bean-filled dog bowl in front of Azzy. She immediately buried her face in the can and started lapping it up.
After chewing for a while, Azzy looked up, smiled brightly, and shouted.
“Woof! Yummy! Beans yummy!”
“Hmph. Just this once. Don’t expect it again.”
Dogs are such damn animals. A dirty, stupid furball that literally begs for food from humans, eating what they eat.
Damned dog. She must think she’s on top of the world.
Just you wait. Even if you are the Dog King, you’re still a dog at heart. Someday, when all this hardship is over and I finally train you, I’ll work you like a dog.
I will personally demonstrate what it means to be the lord of all creation!
The beans taste ordinary.