From the moment I opened my eyes it was one unreal thing after another.
First: my home wasn’t exactly luxurious, but it wasn’t supposed to be surrounded by crumbling stone walls black with moss.
Second: the person who woke me with a voice like thunder was a foreigner — blond hair, blue eyes. And why could I understand what he was saying?
And finally:
“Pour water on it now! The fire’s going to spread!”
“But that’s the last Karbe left!!”
“I’ll kill the monster myself if you don’t stop — do you want to die?”
A black sheep was rampaging in an iron cage. Sparks glowed faintly through its wool. Every time it kicked with its hind legs little embers flared.
This is a stupid dream. Yeah. A stupid dream.
I’d cut off web novels and games lately — why on earth was I having this dream now?
The scene was so absurd I froze for a second, but once I accepted it as a dream I actually felt calmer.
Even so, the heat radiating from the sheep and the voices of people yelling all around — the sensations were absurdly vivid. If this weren’t a dream, what the hell would it be?
“The horns aren’t maintained at all. The hooves either.”
Two people who had been arguing while holding buckets of water straightened and stared at me like I was crazy.
“Maintain? You say that while looking at that mess?”
“Right. Ceryl, are you even awake?”
Awake? More like I was still asleep.
I only shrugged. Even if it was a dream, what could I do — my profession made my eyes go where they wanted.
Kiiieeeek—
Then the burning black sheep inside the cage screamed, a long, tearing sound. The two beside me covered their ears.
“Aww, why are you crying so much?”
Whatever. I crouched down and studied the sheep more calmly. Aside from the oddities — sparks sizzling in its fleece, embers flashing from its hooves — it was, after all, a sheep.
It ran crazily inside the narrow iron pen. Dark steam rose from its horns, which looked like they’d never been trimmed.
If it keeps that up will it start spitting fire from its mouth, too?
Kkiek, kkkiieeek—
As if on cue, the sheep gave a small fire show from its mouth.
“Wow, amazing.”
A genuine, involuntary note of admiration slipped out. A sheep with tricks — this was an interesting dream.
The animal slammed into the old stone wall, banged against the solid iron bars. When horn met metal I took a step back; the heat hit hard.
The two people beside me argued about whether to douse it with water.
“If you pour water it might die! Put those down!”
“If the pen collapses! If you can’t calm it down then just kill it!”
“Geez, what a waste. It’s only B-rank — why kill it so easily?”
What? Kill the sheep?
I jumped to my feet at that grating line.
I don’t care if humans kill each other. But animals — never. Not in front of a veterinarian.
I glared at the two jabbering people. There was something off about them. They weren’t small; their eye levels were roughly the same as mine, which felt strange.
Whatever — even in a dream I was ready to take aim at anyone who spoke about killing an animal casually. But a quicker man beat me to it.
“See, Ceryl! You’re going to kill it yourself?”
“I had hoped you’d do it. I’ve never killed a monster with my own hands yet.”
What nonsense were they spouting?
I scowled and opened my mouth. Both my pitch and my tone felt unfamiliar to me, probably because I was... someone else.
But the whole situation was overwhelmingly unreal, so I barely registered that.
“What the hell are you talking about? Why would I kill it? Can’t you tell the difference between a pain response and an attack response?”
The voice was dry, nothing like the cooing tone I’d used with the sheep before. The two men’s eyes, which had gleamed with anticipation, turned to puzzlement.
“It seems to have lost its sense of direction. I suspect vestibular dysfunction. In the worst case it could be a head-ache-avoidance response due to increased intracranial pressure.”
Big body and aggressive horns aside, it was a textbook disorientation reaction. If you lock an animal that’s lost its bearings into a narrow space, it’s bound to crash around.
Looked closely, and a straight slit of a red pupil was trembling all over — poor thing.
“Stop gawking and bring something to cover it. We need to calm it by covering its eyes.”
The two men with buckets blinked like idiots.
They were foreigners I had never seen before — or maybe it was because this was a dream, or maybe I simply disliked this kind of person so much that my filter vanished. Whatever the reason, blunt words came out of my mouth.
“Which of you is dumber? Or do you not understand Korean?”
“W-What are you talking about, Ceryl? What’s Korean?”
“What do you mean, what’s Korean. Don’t piss me off — bring a covering before I wake up from this dream.”
I mostly hate humans, but people like this were the worst: those who didn’t understand words and wore stupid, blank expressions.
Ever since the first day of clinicals when a dim junior put a stethoscope in upside down and complained of motion sickness, that kind of face had given me the creeps. That half-wit expression is pathetic no matter the nationality.
At least they ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) listened. One of them hurried back with a leather cloth.
“Here! A fire-resistant blanket!”
It had some weight to it. Of course, if you’re covering a burning sheep, you’d better have fire protection.
“But Ceryl. Can a single blanket really kill a Karbe?”
This asshole. Why did he keep talking about killing that poor, pitiable animal?
When I looked at him in disbelief he seemed to misread my expression and backed off, waving his hands.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you. Who are you! Of course one blanket can kill it.”
The other man poked his mate in the ribs for the slip of the tongue, then forced a smile and gave a thumbs up.
“Right, right! He’s Ceryl the Executioner!”
Ugh. Even in a dream that crossed a line. Trauma’s not something you toy with.
“Why the hell would I be an executioner!!!”
“Kiiieeeek—!!!”
****
I’d transmigrated into a long fantasy novel I’d abandoned in high school.
The Fire Throne: Descendants of the Dragon Slayer. The title came with a subtitle list typical of the era.
A straight-laced fantasy of humans at war with dragons. I was an odd kind of reader, though.
Like seeks like — if I were human I should root for humans, but I cheered for the dragons. I wanted to set that shitty human world on fire and have dragons fly free.
The only reason I stopped reading was simple: there were too many monsters dying.
Not just dying — persecuted and tortured by humans. People used monsters in experiments and killed them without flinching.
I quit, crying for the poor creatures.
If I’d known I’d fall into that book I would’ve clenched my teeth and finished the whole thing.
“Ceryl, you in a bad mood today too?”
“You know why I’m like this.”
“...Sorry.”
Actually, being stuck in a novel like this wasn’t the worst thing. I had nothing left to cling to in life.
My only family of eighteen years, Berry, had died recently. A Jin-do mix, big and warm in my arms. In the last year she suffered meningitis; the seizures and pain were unbearable.
I couldn’t bear to watch her suffer. Maybe the year of life-prolonging treatment was my selfishness. In the end I had to euthanize Berry myself. I never imagined being a vet could be so cruel.
I cremated her, came home, and held the warm ashes jar the whole night while sobbing.
“Berry, how am I supposed to live without you... snif, take me with you... please, Berry... take me...”
And then I opened my eyes and found myself here.
Maybe that’s why I wasn’t shocked or afraid by possessing someone else. I even felt as if Berry had led me to this place.
If I search this world I might find Berry. A faint hope bloomed.
I lay back on the grass, arm bent, staring up at the sky. The fantasy world’s sky was annoyingly clear and clean.
It wasn’t fitting the genre, but I let my hand reach up to the heavens and clench it. You always see protagonists doing that in shonen manga.
“Berry, wait. I’ll find you, I promise...”
Kkkiieeeek—!!!
Before I could finish the sentence a noise like nails on a chalkboard shredded my nerves. Reflexively I sprang up and ran toward the source.
“Hey!! Don’t give hay to the flame sheep!!”
Are these people insane? Feeding dry grass to a sheep that’s literally on fire? Are you trying to roast it whole?
“Give it fresh grass!! If it doesn’t understand commands don’t feed it!!”
