Chapter 137
“Monjo!”
The fluffy creature raised its arms and bounced like it wanted a hug. It was so cute it felt dangerous for my heart.
This is the King of Beasts?
If the fantasy world were filled with things like this, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad place to live.
But something didn’t add up.
In the original story, the Beast King didn’t look like this.
Back then, the King was barely described—just “something” always near Hojen Rustin. Definitely not an adorable puffball. So why was this fluffball called the King of Beasts?
“Monjojojo!”
When the puffball kept making noise, Hojen’s low, threatening voice cut in.
“Quiet.”
“Monjojo…” The puffball slumped in disappointment.
Really… This thing is the Beast King?
While I was fighting the urge to touch it, we reached a small cabin and shed.
Hojen parked the wolf-beast in the yard and motioned for us to follow. The puffball swayed side to side like it was welcoming us in.
Inside, the cabin was shabby—dusty, stained blankets, one bed, a greasy red sofa, a cracked wooden table, and a couple of chairs with nails sticking out.
Hojen pointed to a chair.
“Don’t say anything yet. I’ll ask the questions first.”
But we didn’t have time to just sit in silence.
“You look unhappy,” he said. “But if you don’t wait, what will you do? From the looks of it, you two shouldn’t even be here. If trouble starts, it’s not my problem.”
“How did you know…?” I began, but he ignored me, pulling out suspicious-looking vegetables and chopping them with a blunt knife.
“No kid should be traveling without an adult,” he said.
I watched his back, then added, “Noe Rustin is probably wandering alone right now too.”
He kept chopping without answering.
“Monjo!”
The puffball stamped its feet beside him.
“You just ate,” Hojen said.
It tilted its head.
That’s not what it said, I thought.
“Monjo!”
“You want this? Strange.” He gave it carrot and onion scraps. The puffball tilted its head faster.
Probably not what it wanted.
Hojen tossed the scraps into a pot, added water, then sprinkled in odd yellow powders before setting it to boil.
“Monjo~”
The puffball tugged his sleeve, wriggling.
“Go away,” Hojen said, flicking it with a finger. It flew like a feather and landed on my lap.
“Monjo…” It wobbled, then stood up and reached out to me.
So cute… whatever was hiding in that fur.
I started to raise my hand in greeting, but Winter grabbed the puffball and threw it back.
“Best to ignore it. I especially don’t answer if it talks. Even if it sounds like the same word, it can mean many things.”
Winter’s tone was sharper now. The puffball hit Hojen’s back, then dropped to the floor.
“The dragon’s right,” Hojen said. “It’s better not to answer. You can’t understand him anyway.”
He opened the pot, and a delicious smell filled the air—surprisingly good for such dirty cookware.
“Monjo!” The puffball jumped. Hojen sighed, ladled some broth into the dirtiest bowl, and handed it over.
The broth was oily and looked like it was just the fat skimmed off the top. The puffball’s eyes went blank.
“Now be quiet.”
That definitely wasn’t what it had asked for.
“This word ‘Monjo’—I taught him that,” Hojen said, ladling soup into three deep bowls and setting them on the table.
He dragged the red sofa over and sat down.
“It’s just the continental common tongue.”
I stirred the soup with my spoon. It smelled nice. I was hungry, so… maybe try it?
“What happened to ‘thank you’?” Hojen said as I lifted the spoon.
“…Thank you. Can I speak now?” I said.
He nodded, so I took a sip.
“Monjo!” the puffball cried.
Winter glanced at it warily.
“It’s saying, ‘Give me your body.’”
I choked. “Give… your body?”
Hojen looked at Winter, then at me.
“That’s right. He looks cute, but his power isn’t. If you agree to his request, it will happen. Say ‘okay’ to ‘give me your body,’ and he will take it. This fluff isn’t his original body—he’s changed many times.”
The puffball climbed onto the table, panting, and looked at me.
“Mon—jo!”
I almost dropped my spoon.
So that’s why he looks different from the story.
“When he says that, it either means he’s hungry or he likes your ‘shell’ and wants to switch,” Hojen said.
“Then why did you teach him those words?” I asked. “Now he can ask humans for their bodies.”
“That’s not it,” Hojen said. “Originally he spoke only in beast language. Humans couldn’t understand—but his power is so flexible that if you reply in Imperial tongue, it still counts as agreeing. Even just answering ‘Huh?’ could be taken as a yes.”
What a cheat skill.
“So I taught him ‘give me your body’ because no one would casually say yes to that. I didn’t expect him to slur it into ‘Monjo’ or use it for everything. Sometimes ‘Monjo’ really means it, sometimes it just means ‘play with me.’ You’re better off ignoring him.”
Winter shoved the puffball off the table.
“It may be the most mysterious being on this continent,” he said. “We don’t know its original form, or why it exists. Luckily it’s mild-tempered, not very smart, and stays in its own territory. Unless you come here, it won’t cause trouble.”
Cute looks, but clearly dangerous.
Ignore it, my gut told me. Get too involved and I’d regret it.
I nodded slowly.
Hojen refilled his bowl. “Now, let’s get to the point. Why are you here? My son isn’t here, and I don’t know when he’ll return.”
