A Dog's Supreme Fortune
There's a saying in Kyung-gi Province that a dog's life is the luckiest of all. It probably came about because the sight of a dog lazing bonelessly in the yard looked pretty damn annoying to a farmer who had to rush out to tend the fields. Of course, it was just a joke. After all that hard labor left them drained come summer, pigs were valuable and cows essential for farming, so naturally, dogs ended up slathered in soybean paste, tossed into the pot as a protein boost.
But these days, it's a whole different story. In an era where people abandon their dementia-stricken mothers but cling to their demented dogs all day long—where folks have money to raise dogs but not kids—who'd use "a dog's life is the luckiest" as a dig anymore? There's no such thing as absolute value in this world.
How could the fading life of a baby tossed in a toilet trash can compare to a puppy perched in a stroller, barking at passersby? The former would soon end up in a volume-based waste bag, polluting the earth. The latter would head home, get bathed in its owner's hands, climb onto the bed, and drift off in their embrace.
How could the life of a dog inheriting billions from its owner match that of a young man sweating all day for barely 180,000 won? The dog lives on pricey chef-cooked meats every day, its wealth only growing. The young man fills his belly with cheap dog-food-level lunchboxes amid rising prices, scrimps and saves, but can't even afford a tiny place to crash.
Value is relative. Whatever the powerful desire becomes valuable. Why are plants worth more than stones? Why animals more than plants? Why humans more than animals? Because they're alive? Because they move? Because they feel? Because they reason? Nah. Just because humans wanted it that way.
The powerful wanted it, so stones outvalue plants. They wanted it, so plants outvalue animals. They wanted it, so animals outvalue humans. Strollers turned to baby carriages, baby carriages to pet carriages. Dog meat, once a summer delicacy, now punished like cannibalism—because those who wanted it otherwise held the power.
In that sense, I'm a dog. The most precious, selectively bred breed to please the grotesques who could squash humans like bugs. Improved and refined to their tastes. In a world overrun by grotesques beyond human perception, humanity's desperate thrashing to survive—not extinction, but domestication. Better pets than livestock. A frantic bid to win the favor of the mighty grotesques, just as humans prioritize dogs over their own kind.
Punishing and scorning those who eat dogs. Even as rare species vanish, dogs thrive. Hoping grotesques would prioritize humans over their own, punish human-eaters, and let us endure even if the world ends. The plan began with that wish.
After countless trials and errors, it succeeded perfectly—and failed perfectly. Dogs transcended pets, becoming children or even spouses, living nobler than humans. But only because the gap between humans and dogs never exceeded material limits.
We won their favor, nudged their behavior friendly. But we also caught the eye of vast, mindless entities drifting through dimensions. The attention of transcendent beings who warp physics was a catastrophe for unprepared humanity.
The project met a sudden end. Wars evoking extinction ended in human victory; countless threatening grotesques vanished. But survivors were a tiny fraction. Having escaped doom at great cost, all that remained was cleanup. And so, I was exiled with the remaining grotesques.
Clang-clang-clang!
Clang—boom-boom-boom-boom!
"When the drum beats thunder, the ghost's soul flips inside out!"
"When the sword dance spins, the stray spirits' feet are bound!"
"The Blue General descends!! With the crimson armor and pure azure staff, dispel this grave evil!!!"
"Hah!!!"
"Commanding the evil ghosts and child spirits, scatter their soul flames! Protect the mortals—"
Boom!! Boom! Boom! Boom!!!
"Where do you come from, you fiend! Mountain soul, water soul, or grudge of man?!"
"The general raises his sword!!!"
Shing! Shing! Shing-shing!!
"Evil spirits, come forth and bow your heads!!!!!!"
The bells on the sword sliced through the air like shattering glass, and with every strike of the drumstick on the red cloth, the shaman's body jerked more wildly. Flickering candles trembled as if something's ire had been provoked. In defiance, the shaman's voice boomed louder.
"This shrine is the gods' domain!!! Ringed in iron walls, slashed by black winds—no place for you to breathe here!!!"
The racket was ear-splitting. How long did I have to endure this spectacle? She menaced about with that bell-adorned sword, pressing it to her body here and there—it was seriously grating.
Who was there to blame? We'd crammed a bunch of strong-personality grotesques into one spot. Even suppressing them with fear and dominance, accidents happened now and then. Especially since the fear relied on borrowed authority, and these beast-like things forgot it when their instincts flared.
So, carrot and stick. Regular scoldings, occasional playtime to build favor. But with so many, management was a nightmare. Once, a clueless doll crashed a game of hide-and-seek with the kids. Twice, a mischievous kid shoved one, got dragged by tentacles, found in a sewer. Thrice, a dad checking his son in the rearview spotted a ghost beside him.
One time's coincidence, two's coincidence, even three. But four, five? Suspicion turns to certainty. Sigh—those hiding in the shadows knew it was their fault things were like this, staying quiet for now. Small mercy.
I wanted to bail right then, but the dad's anxious eyes and mom's secret tears kept me rooted. Just sit tight, fake relief when the rite ends, head home. Be more careful next time.
Splash—
"...Huh?"
Blood trickled down my face. A sticky, foul stench assaulted my nose. While my eyes were shut for a quick doze, that crazy woman had dumped a bucket of beast blood on my head.
I'm screwed!
"Gack—hack—!"
It happened in a flash. The shaman, throat constricted by something invisible, yanked into the air. Buzzing wings everywhere as countless bugs poured through door cracks and wall gaps into the shrine.
People handling instruments screamed, shaking off the swarms engulfing them. The shrine turned to chaos.
"Kyaeeeeek!!!!!!"
"Mmph—"
Fleeing, falling, frozen in shock. Bugs burrowed into ears, noses, mouths of the panicking crowd.
"Stop!!!"
『----?』
I barked the order, steadying my mind. The grotesque, overreacting to my startled emotion as a threat, began calming. Bugs quieted, fleeing the thrashing people, leaving the shrine littered with crushed carcasses.
Luckily, I'd drilled it deep: no harming humans lightly. No casualties.
"Cough—hack—"
The shaman hit the floor, hacking violently amid bug corpses. Her eyes bulged at the clean spot around me.
"Gasp—!! Great evil spirit! No ordinary ghost—a great demon possesses him!!"
Bit dramatic.
"Seojun!!!!"
Lee Suyeong, who'd waited anxiously outside during the rite, burst in at the commotion. She recoiled at the bug-strewn floor, then spotted blood dripping from her son's face and scooped him up in alarm.
"You okay? Not hurt anywhere? What's all this on your face?"
She wiped the blood with her hand, checked for wounds, and sighed in relief.
"Ugh—this isn't my blood. Don't rub it, it's grosser now."
The blood drying sticky in my hair was nasty. Once it soaks in, it doesn't wash out easy; clothes were trash anyway.
"Right, let's go home and wash up quick!"
As she carried me out, the recovered shaman yelled from behind.
"Stop!! Where do you think you're going!!!"
"The rite's over, time to go home!! He's covered in blood!!"
"Fool! After this, you still say that? You think that's really your son?!"
"What?! Ridiculous!"
"Hah!! Blinded by maternal love, blind to what's important?"
Enough, lady. You know the rules. Not a total fraud, but sloppy.
A startled voice burst from the shocked shaman's mouth.
"Wh-what?"
I smirked faintly at her, pointing aside with a finger.
You can't see this, right? Eyes open, so minor ghosts were no issue. But nothing now? You figured a flashy rite would do. Got lucky so far. Real evil spirit? You'd be dead already.
"Mom, I'm tired. Let's go."
"Yeah! Let's get out!"
Knowing when to butt in or not is shaman basics. Sloppy, so you end up scammed, serving stray spirits. Even a real god changes nothing.
Ghosts are all the same.
Leaving the wrecked shrine behind, mother and son headed home.
『Po—』