Irresistible Reward -3-
"Grrr…!"
"Kiiing…"
"Grrr!! Woof! Woof!"
Another peaceful day in the young lady's room. The young lady sitting on the bed was locked in a fierce staring contest with the dog.
She'd declared it was time to establish the pecking order, crouching on the bed in a cat-like pose to face off against the pup. Her sharp eyes fixed on the dog, while the black-furred little guy hid behind me, trembling and whining pitifully.
There was no mercy in the young lady's stare-downs. That was the secret to her reign as queen of high society, a world teeming with schemes and deceptions—dominating from the very first clash.
She always told me the same thing: Your first impression has to hit hard and stick. If people remember you as some fluffy cotton-candy pushover, they'll crawl all over you later. Better to crush their spirits upfront—no loose ends that way. That was her pearl of wisdom after once yanking out a fistful of some noble lady's hair.
Right now, she was showing the dog exactly who she was. The nutjob of this territory... no, the one with a few screws loose.
"Grrrowl! Woof!"
The young lady speaking in animal tongue. It only came off as adorable.
The first time she laid eyes on the pup, she hadn't been thrilled. What's so cute about a fur-shedding mutt? She'd glanced at it sidelong, fingers twitching like she wanted to pet it—but after thirteen years at her side, I saw right through her bluff.
—It's a bear!
—It's a dog, milady.
…Huh?
Yes.
Not a bear?
It has four legs, so... dog?
I guess?
She conceded quick when I joked about raising it like a cockroach vacuum—stronger than a robot vac, perfect for her needs.
Before welcoming the new family member, she'd voiced her worries to me.
—But what if it steals my job?
Your job?
Yeah. I have a job too.
I couldn't wrap my head around a freeloading young lady talking careers, but her follow-up assessment was so spot-on, I had to nod.
—Guarding the house. That's my gig.
Congratulations. You're employed now.
Obviously. Can't live as a bum forever.
Who knew my supposed unemployed lady was actually on the clock? Guess that made me the evil boss stiffing her on pay.
Anyway, she was bonding with her new family now. Old-school method, sure—but sometimes classics are best. Even the Dog Whisperer says so.
—The hierarchy between owner and pet is crucial. Look weak, and it'll bite.
I prayed for a smooth truce between them.
"Grrrrr…"
Her eyes screamed one wrong move and it's claw city. The pup let out a kiing, tail dropping shorter than a pinky finger to the floor.
Submitting to the law of the jungle, it earned a satisfied smile from the young lady. Shoulders back in victory, she thrust out her ample chest proudly.
Eye candy for the soul. Felt refreshing.
"Ricardo. I win."
"Well done, milady."
"Tough fight. Felt like wrestling a bear."
"It's a dog."
"…"
She let out a deep whoosh of a sigh, wiping sweat from her brow. She'd been sulky about not bathing, but the post-battle glow melted that away. Looked like her mood was saved—no all-day pout-fest after all.
Bless the mopey pup slumped on the floor. I crouched, stroked its head, and snuck it a strip of jerky on the sly.
Its fluffy butt wiggled toward the treat. Made me smile. Good appetite. Healing seemed solid too. A slight limp lingered, but compared to not using the hind legs at all? Massive progress.
Maybe animals respond stronger, or maybe I couldn't control the power yet. Either way, it worked like a charm.
Pride swelled, bittersweet. Hand of Rehabilitation wasn't for everyday use. Once a month max. The healing was killer, but the toll? Dizzying vertigo, nosebleeds, dropping stamina, that creeping chill of declining health.
Not proven harmful, but obviously no good.
Part of me wondered if wasting it on a stray was the best call. But hey, silver lining—I learned the side effects first.
Rushing to use it on her could've ended with me collapsing in front of the young lady. My stubborn ass would've Limit Breaked everything into her rehab anyway.
If I coughed blood mid-use? She'd never let anyone touch her again. Gotta ease into it, dial back the impatience. Think of myself too.
Vowing to ration it for her recovery and seal it otherwise, I watched the pup chow down approvingly. Abandoned by its mom for the limp. Waited an hour there—no mom, not even a rat.
Butler, dog—both orphans? Kinship tugged at my heart.
The young lady reached for the jerky-sniffing pup.
"Hand it over."
At the estate's top dog's command, I grabbed its side for a checkup. Bathed it once, but ticks? Scrubbed hygiene head to toe, then the big one: sex.
Mute or not, a male dangling in her arms, panting? I'd boot it to the yard. For the pup's lifelong sake, had to confirm.
Sleek black belly fur. Female.
Passed.
No outdoor worries now. Perfect pet material. I nestled it into her arms.
"Hiet!"
Fluffy fur hit her chest; a girlish smile bloomed. Haven't seen that pure joy in ages. I grinned too.
Good call bringing it home.
She hugged it tight, eyes saying mine forever. Felt a twinge of jealousy—priorities shifting? Girls and cute things, am I right?
Bitter glance her way... but her words flipped the script.
"From today, your name's Sagol."
Say what? I dug in my ear, refocused.
"C'mon, say it. Sagol."
No mishearing. I probed gently on the name's origin. Not what I think, right?
"Milady?"
"Yeah?"
"Why Sagol? Something pretty like Elizabeth the First or Flower Bun…"
She scowled.
"Lame."
Guess I'm no namer. Still, pressed on—Sagol sounded like its doom.
"Sagol's a bit much, no?"
She nodded like duh.
"Ricardo's sick, so gotta fatten it up for tonic soup."
Gulp. Her swallow said it all.
"Pardon?"
Dumbstruck butler finally got her doting gaze. Applaud the intent, but nah—this one's family, not food.
Calmly explained its purpose.
"Won't eat it."
"Huh?"
"It's for companionship."
Her eyes iced over.
"No eating?"
"Yes."
"Brought it to fatten and feast?"
"It's a dog."
"Doesn't look it."
"True."
She flashed its massive forepaws.
"Look at these paws. Huge!"
"Grows big, I bet."
"…Yeah?"
They were huge. Claw-ripping human-sized later. Sharp black claws impressive, but pups do that, right? Per my past-life canned-food stray-cat YouTube wisdom.
She bought it. No pet experience either.
Half-convinced but squinty-eyed, she glared: You're no dog, are ya? Pup just kiinged cutely back.
"Tch."
Bored now—not emergency rations or grub—she brushed off fur and pitched a better name.
"How 'bout Tangsuyuk?"
Her butler, her naming sense—hopeless.
We eyed the cowering black pup, pondering a name fit for villainess Olivia's stature.
Deep focus mode.
"Maximus?"
"Lame."
"Rambaldi...?"
"What?"
"For sled-pulling later…"
"Veto."
Ten minutes of head-scratching. Wild rejects like "Hosik, Mangdungeo, Gwangeo"—then her decent pick. The pup perked ears, watching us.
"Gomtangi."
Most brutal yet, but tail-wag approved. We smiled at each other.
"Sounds good."
"Yeah."
She patted the bed.
"Sagol, c'mere."
"Sagol? It's Gomtangi."
"…"
Same diff, but Gomtangi sounded braver.
Grudging retry.
"Gomtangi, c'mere."
—Goooom!
Boisterous bark into her arms. Name nailed it.
I smiled at the bundled duo.
"Ugh, so tacky."
Glad I brought it.
*
"You little shit! Mine—your food's on the floor!"
The young lady was playing great with Gomtangi. Or rather, bloodbath over snacks as it schemed rebellion.
She shoved its head away from her treats on the bed, unleashing savage curses.
—Gooooom!!
"Eek!! Scram!"
—Goooooom!
"Eeeeek!! Out! I'll slather you in bean paste!"
Tail-down at the threat, it hopped off on short legs, face-plunged into its kibble bowl.
Huff... huff.
Trembling eyes on the prize-secured lady, she sighed in relief.
"Ricardo. No way that's a dog."
"It is."
"Look."
Crunch crunch!
Pointing at the voracious muncher.
"What dog inhales like that?!"
"Happens. Speciesism."
"…Yeah?"
She nodded along.
"I'll train it off the bed."
"Thanks."
Truth? She didn't care bear or whatever—just hated snack theft.
I mentally listed lessons, fed her a steak bite.
"Nyum... Tasty."
Nightfall crept in. Eventful day. New family. Key ability gained.
I stashed Gomtangi in an empty room, broached the topic quietly.
"Milady."
"Yeah?"
"Ta-da!"
Pulled a cheap market ointment from my pocket. Perfect excuse to touch her legs.
Awkward grin, ointment in hand.
"Found a miracle cure…"
She shut it down flat.
"That's an MLM scam."
Worldly-wise young lady.