Tamed

Al Fantasia had no shortage of skills, and among them was one called Taming.

The ability to tame a monster. With a pitch that seductive, Taming was the kind of skill every Al Fantasia player tried at least once — practically a rite of passage.

I was no exception. A long, long time ago, I had tried to tame a monster myself.

It was a creature called a Shadow Crow. It looked like an ordinary crow, except it didn't fly through the sky — it swam through shadows. Hard to catch, and honestly, hard to even see.

I wanted one. I swept up every item rumored to help with taming and headed for its habitat. After days of wrestling with the first one I found, I finally got it to perch on my shoulder. Less than three days later, while we were out hunting, it split the back of my skull open with its beak and vanished into the shadows.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Naturally, with a bleeding gash punched into the back of my head, I died on the spot. I never saw that Shadow Crow again.

I was pretty deflated, but it wasn't exactly a shock. I hadn't fully tamed the thing to begin with, so getting burned like that wasn't surprising.

Taming wasn't something you finished just by succeeding once. You had to keep interacting with the creature, then complete a Naming Ceremony before the bond was truly sealed. Until then — just like what happened to me — your new "pet" could turn on you and run off whenever it felt like it.

Which is to say: Taming was a garbage skill. Abysmal success rate. Even if you pulled it off, there was a solid chance you'd get stabbed in the back.

But it had a certain romance to it, too. Which meant that somewhere in Al Fantasia, even now, there were players still pouring their hearts into taming monsters, dreaming of becoming Tamers.

Anyway. Back to the present.

I stopped chewing the healing herb and stared at the system window floating in front of my face.

Tamed. Meaning I had been on the receiving end of a Taming.

It wasn't that strange, if I thought about it. Right now I looked every bit the fox — a monster, for all intents and purposes — so if someone set their mind to taming me, the system would let them try. I would have refused point-blank or bolted for the hills first, but the attempt itself was possible.

That said, as I mentioned: Taming succeeded at truly wretched odds. Even a wild rabbit fading to gray under a single kick from this girl — Yeon — would have taken a mountain of trial and error.

And she pulled it off on the first try? On me?

"You have successfully tamed Lv. 1 'No Name'?"

I was too dumbfounded to move, and the girl named Yeon muttered the words under her breath. A system window must have been sitting in front of her the same way one was sitting in front of me.

For a moment her mouth tightened, as if the whole thing had caught her off guard. Then her face broke into a delighted grin. She scooped me up and said,

"So that means you're mine now, right?"

Like hell I am. I bit down on her hand without a second's hesitation.

The plan was simple: startle her into dropping me, then bolt for the trees the instant her grip loosened.

"Ahaha, that tickles."

"Kyeng?"

Instead of flinging me away in surprise, she just laughed like I'd nuzzled her. I could only stare.

Why didn't that do any damage? The thought had barely formed before a nasty possibility slid through my head.

No. It couldn't be. I was only just tamed—

"What should I name you?"

I flinched and looked up at her. She was still smiling, her eyes curved into happy little crescents.

"I know. Choco. How about Choco? It's a good name, right?"

Wait. Don't tell me—

Ah, damn it.

The sigh slipped out on its own. Things had gone spectacularly, irretrievably sideways.

A wild rabbit was staring us down.

Unlike the one we'd tried to hunt earlier, this one had clearly clocked us. It kept up a frantic stomping with its hind legs, drumming a threat into the dirt — but a herbivore the size of a fist could glare all it wanted. To a human, it just looked cute.

It looked cute to me, too, even though I was now a beast of the same size. However fiercely it threatened us, all I saw was a creature thrashing because it was about to die.

...Granted, one of these things had nearly killed me. But that had been carelessness, nothing more. With my full attention locked on it like this, I was not going to lose.

I crouched low, compressing my body. The rabbit had just enough time to look confused at my suddenly smaller profile before I uncoiled and launched myself forward.

For a Level 1, my Agility was high, and the gap closed fast. But wild rabbits had a reputation as one of the quicker low-level monsters, and this one reacted in a blink, springing high to clear my attack.

In that same instant, it failed to notice the human leg swinging in from the side — and got launched.

"Squeee!"

A wet crack, the sound of hide splitting, and the rabbit slammed into a tree. It faded to gray and vanished, leaving nothing but a scrap of pelt. Dead ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in a single kick. Had that been a crit?

"Ugh... the realism on this is so high it's giving me goosebumps."

She muttered it while hugging herself, as if she were genuinely creeped out. I stared at her, unimpressed.

I hadn't been fighting with any kind of combo in mind. From the start, I'd intended to take the rabbit myself. Yeon hadn't even entered the equation. And yet she had read that tiny window when the rabbit left the ground and thrown the kick without a shred of hesitation.

Monster or not, game or not — most people just starting Al Fantasia froze up. The looks of the creatures, the hyper-realistic immersion, it all made them hesitate before they could swing. Yeon had none of that. She was wearing a face that said she was thoroughly creeped out, but to me it felt like an act.

An unusual girl, that was for sure. I was shaking my head inwardly when she beamed at me as if the goosebumps had never happened.

"Still, we made a pretty good team, huh?"

Good team, my ass. I whipped my head the other way and started toward wherever the next monster was likely to be.

"Ah — wait! Choco, wait for me!"

Who said you could call me Choco? A fresh wave of indignation hit me, and I broke from a walk into a run. A short little yelp of surprise floated after me from behind.

My new name had stuck, exactly as Yeon had decided: Choco. Naming a fox — a canid — something that was basically poison. Chocolate was toxic to my kind. Talk about a bad omen.

Of course, slapping the name Choco on a dog wasn't exactly unusual, so it was just me complaining. I would have been unhappy with any name, honestly. I already had one.

But now that Yeon had named me Choco, I would never be able to change it without buying a Rename Ticket. That was the power of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Naming Ceremony.

It also meant I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could no longer get away from her.

Finishing the Naming Ceremony meant the master and the monster — now called a pet — were bound as one. I had my doubts about whether a Naming Ceremony was even supposed to be possible immediately after a Taming, but arguing with something that had already happened was a waste of time.

The real question was what to do now.

I opened my jaws and lunged at a rabbit that was still grazing, blissfully unaware it was about to be ambushed.

"Squeee?!"

A crunch — fangs punching through hide — and a system window bloomed in front of me.

I watched the rabbit go limp and fade to gray. Yeon caught up a moment later, panting hard.

"W-wait. Just a little slower..."

Unlike me — for whom the game had become reality — Yeon was using an in-game body. There was no reason for her to be tired. Which meant that was just her being dramatic. I gave her a look of pure pity and called up my status window.

With the Naming Ceremony already done, there was nothing I could do. Not unless Yeon released me herself, or I died and the bond broke that way.

Of course, not even a newbie would be stupid enough to release a successful Tame. And the second option was out of the question — I had no idea what would happen if I died. So that was that.

My neck was well and truly in Yeon's collar.

Not that it was entirely a bad thing. Rank 1 or not, I was a worthless little fox right now. Yeon was a newbie, but she had a human body, and down the line that was going to matter. The problem, as always, was Yeon herself.

"Ah."

The panting vanished as if it had never happened. She sidled in and reached out to hug me; I hopped clean out of the way, and she let out a small, disappointed sound. I flicked a glance at her.

Whether she just liked animals or what, she tried to grab me at every opportunity, and it was exhausting. I might have looked like a fox on the outside, but inside I was a grown man, through and through — and several years older than her, besides. If I ever made it back to my original form, unnecessary contact now would only make things awkward for both of us.

"You don't like being held? Hmm..."

It wasn't just the holding I didn't like, but at least the message seemed to have landed. That was something.

I padded over to Yeon, who had gone quiet and thoughtful, and bit the hem of her pants, tugging.

"Hm? What is it, Choco?"

"Kyeng!"

Follow me. I barked it with that meaning, then turned and headed into the forest. A beat later Yeon made a little "ah!" and hurried after me.

Getting tamed by Yeon had tangled things up, but what I had to do hadn't changed.

Gather spirit power. Become a Gumiho. I didn't know if becoming a Gumiho would let me return to my original form — but sitting still wasn't an option either. And I wasn't ready to die just yet.

On top of that, I had to raise Yeon. Now that we were stuck together like this, her help wasn't optional if I wanted to reach Gumiho. It was required.

Unless she released me — and she showed no sign of doing anything of the sort — there was only one thing to do from here.

The crown jewel of any RPG.

Hunting.