Chapter 29: My Cat Earns Good Money

Chiiiiiiiiii!

The lid must’ve gotten really heated.

Steam’s pouring out.

I was ready to bash any monster that popped out, but no sign of that.

As I went to check the inside of RiceCookerMan’s lid, a volcano erupts from the rice cooker.

“…..”

Oh.

I should’ve gotten fire insurance.

With all the money I’ve got, I forgot about fire insurance.

Maybe I should’ve listened to those home shopping ads.

I couldn’t bring myself to get practical insurance for leaks or damages—my conscience wouldn’t let me.

Luckily, the pillar of fire rises but not too high.

It’s probably burning at the level of the cooker’s lid.

Since it worked, I grabbed another bowl of water.

“One more scoop.”

Pouring another bowl, it goes Chiiiiiiii! again.

Pop pop pop bang!

Wait, is this some material that explodes when it touches water?

There’s fire rising?

But the flames aren’t too high.

It seems effective.

[Level Up.]

My level rose to 97, up one.

Arithmetically, it must be a monster below level 90.

Magic +1

They say Magic rarely rises randomly, but it did.

My Magic’s now 3.

It really creeps up slowly.

“What’s this? Uh.”

Looking at the water-filled rice cooker, a puddle formed inside from what I poured.

Floating in it, with all limbs stretched out, was something the size of a ladybug, bright red.

Above its head, it read:

<salamander lv75>

A monster that eats sulfur near volcanoes, harboring scorching flames in its body.

Low intelligence, but when enraged, it spews flames like a volcanic eruption.

Descriptions appear based on intelligence.

I’ve heard of salamanders.

<salamander tail>

<salamander hide>

Items dropped from the dead salamander.

“How do I scoop this out?”

I used a net I don’t bother with when eating bibimmyeon.

The red mage dissolved in water, but the salamander corpse doesn’t.

I need to be careful with corpse disposal now.

Grind it finely, seal it tight, and toss it on trash day. Hm?

“Whoa, you!?”

A sudden light flared, and I thought something else was coming.

The light was bursting from RiceCookerMan.

FLASH!

RiceCookerMan’s status?

“You okay?”

[Uh, yeah! I’m fine. Thanks to you, I survived.]

“Surviving’s one thing—what’s with the light?”

[I think I gained a skill. You’ll like it, Master. Check it out!]

“The only thing I’d like is if you turned rice into gold.”

[Egg fried rice?]

Well, it’s golden-colored.

They do sell “golden fried rice.”

Checking RiceCookerMan:

<high heat lv5>

Can contain limit-breaking high heat internally.

Gains a new skill with the rise of High Heat LV.

<synthesis lv1>

You can now attempt synthesis in this cauldron.

Even with a recipe, synthesis has a failure rate.

I was joking, but RiceCookerMan really became a synthesis cauldron.

***

“This is the new recruit, CatMan.”

[…..]

[…..]

RiceCookerMan and the cat stare at each other, silent.

Shy or wary?

Another presence in the space might threaten their turf.

But, normally, a rice cooker and a cat wouldn’t talk.

My mental state’s the abnormal one.

“Say hi, at least?”

[What’s that?]

[How do I speak? Its language system’s incomprehensible!]

What’s this?

They can talk to humans but not directly to each other?

“So, you’re not even trying to talk?”

[It’s ignoring me. Is it looking down on me?]

[Greetings, Cat! I’m saying hi, but no response!]

I don’t know why their telepathy frequencies are off, but communication errors are normal.

Guess I’ll have to translate.

“Alright, you both said hi.”

Done.

If they’re upset, figure out how to communicate.

It’s not like language is the only way.

Actions can speak too.

RiceCookerMan’s at a disadvantage here.

No limbs, no tail.

No eyes, nose, or mouth.

Can the power cord count as a tail?

[Tell it I’d appreciate if it didn’t shed fur in my rice!]

Why’s it picking a fight?

I relayed it.

“Hey, it says to stop shedding.”

[Tell it I’ll take it over and make it my base.]

“It wants to merge with you.”

[What? Is it crazy?]

“It’ll keep you warm.”

[Thanks. I’ll make sure to rub my butt in sand first.]

“It’ll wipe its butt before coming in.”

[It’s beyond liking stuff—it’s got creepy desires!]

Messing with them in the middle is hilarious.

“For now, RiceCookerMan, you’ll handle monsters like him.”

I brought the cat to rethink the defense system and build an active defense strategy.

Technically, I couldn’t kill a level-up cat that flipped over and talked to surrender.

‘How do you kill a cat crying it just wanted to see its grandma…’

Since I got a leveled-up cat, making it hiss by scratching its belly would be a waste.

Now that I can command it, it’s time to consider active defense with the cat.

I’ll hog the high-level monsters that boost levels, but low-level ones giving measly EXP can go to the cat for growth.

Sure, some monsters outclass levels with stamina, but those tiny kingdom monsters aren’t pushovers.

“RiceCookerMan, you’ve guarded the gate. Was it the pattern I described?”

[Yes, exactly.]

RiceCookerMan and I noticed gate invaders come in two ways.

One is just dropping straight from the gate.

[They fall, hit my belly, and can’t recover. Landing’s tough.]

For small beings, RiceCookerMan’s height feels like several floors up.

Otherworld beings falling from that height hit a heated cooker and usually get steamed to death.

Until now, only the salamander survived.

If I’d put water in RiceCookerMan’s lid, it could’ve caught it.

They likely know fire, numbers, and biochemical attacks work well in my room.

[The dangerous ones are summoned glowing outside the gate!]

The other way is being summoned with light near the gate.

This is likely cast by high-Magic creatures.

The red mage stands out.

In this case, they don’t fall into RiceCookerMan’s belly but land somewhere in my room.

During the zombie incident, zombies rained from the sky.

RiceCookerMan can’t handle that alone.

It’s not just about hitting and waiting—I need a mobile strike team.

“You listening, CatMan?”

This guy’s staring at dust while I’m explaining.

[I get it. Bugs come from here, and if the metal thing can’t catch them, I do. Right?]

…Every class had one.

The kid goofing off but nailing answers when called on.

“You catch on quick. Pretty sharp.”

[Hunting’s… our species’ pastime.]

Stroking its whiskers with its paw.

Looks cheeky.

“Well, marine species are also hungry for level-ups, aggressively attacking when they get the chance. You’ll be useful someday.”

Among creatures, after the Succubus Queen’s clan, marine species are the most invasion-hungry.

Humans never went to the sea even at extinction, so they were excluded from level hunting.

“What’s Fetch do?”

I asked directly about the cat’s skill-packed manual.

It strokes its whiskers again.

[Try ordering it.]

I read on the cat wiki.

They bring bugs, rats, or dead birds as human food.

“Don’t bring rats or dead birds.”

[I’ll bring what humans like.]

“What humans like?”

[I’m confident. Try me.]

“So cocky. Can you fetch eel?”

[Want it?]

Malbok’s coming up.

I ordered “Fetch,” and it scampered off.

It came back with something in its mouth.

[Here, take it.]

“Where’d you get this?!”

Shockingly, it brought Sejong the Great. A cabbage leaf.

And a purple cabbage leaf—Toegye Yi Hwang.

So, the cat earned 11,000 won.

[You guys love this, right?]

Not just love—people kill each other over it.

Where’d it get money?

“Did you steal it?!”

[Why bother? People give me stuff when I’m around. No idea why. Even if they don’t, they shove cameras in my face.]

The term “thief cat” is outdated.

It’s born to be pampered.

Koreans have a culture of revering tigers as sacred, so being weak to felines might be traditional.

“So, where’d you get the money?”

[Easy. First, I get a thousand won.]

“Where from?”

[That.]

My wallet?

Look at this guy’s bad habits.

“Oh, yeah?”

[Then I carry it around. Not hard to hold with my paws.]

“Show me.”

[How’s that? Bipedalism skill makes it possible.]

It easily holds a thousand won with its paw.

Evolved into a bipedal creature.

“Then what?”

[I take the thousand won to any human and do this. They give me more.]

This guy shamelessly holds out its paw, flipped to show its pads.

The pose screams “gimme money.”

At school, some kids block the back door, playfully demanding stuff from passersby.

I stopped them, but they even did it to me.

“And then?”

[What’s hard? They give it.]

Is this a cat or a beggar?

“Well, uh, good job.”

A cat flipping its paw out isn’t common.

One holding money?

Feels like someone would give it cash.

[The thousand’s for business, keep it. Use the rest to buy a car. Keep the change.]

“This won’t buy a car’s wheel, dude.”

[Then I’ll fetch until you can.]

“…A thousand?”

What about its lifespan?

***

“No news still.”

The Succubus Queen stared at the corpse puppet left by the ghoul necromancer.

A creepy figure stitched from various bodies.

The necromancer’s necromancy allowed cross-dimensional communication.

Not as direct as a specter, so information was limited, but it was undistorted and accurate.

Yet, despite time passing, no good news of capturing the giant or opening the dungeon.

There should’ve been word of receiving the salamander, but nothing.

It was safe to assume failure.

“No choice. We’ll have to negotiate.”

Then the corpse puppet stirred.

Finally, contact from the ghoul necromancer.

The Succubus Queen stood, delighted, and asked, “How’d it go?”

A message sounded.

[Meow.]

“Meow?”

[Rawr, roar!]

“…Hey?”

[Meow, meeowww.]

“Is this their language?”

The expedition kept failing.

The Succubus Queen’s side, needing human desire and corpses, grew impatient.

Maybe they’d need to negotiate with the dungeon’s giant blocking their entry.

Learning some of their language might help.

The Succubus Queen mulled over the alien language, mimicking it.

“Hm… Meow?”