Chapter 44: The Diplomacy of Monsters: Medic Tentacle’s Gamble

After Medic Tentacle’s empty mumblings, a few days had passed in Earth time.

A different spaceship, located far from Earth.

On that ship resided the “high-ranking” monsters, as one might call them by Earth standards.

Despite lacking any real combat skills, they had managed to rise to their positions either out of pure luck or by masterfully playing the political game, creating divisions with uncanny skill.

These monsters sat in high-ranking seats, though the strategies they proposed were more about numbers and lofty talk than actual sound tactics.

They were the true adversaries for the monsters who actually handled the battles, with their constant “Wouldn’t it be interesting if…?” suggestions, always made in a flippant tone.

“Why does this spaceship in charge of Earth have so many reimbursement claims?” one of them asked. The Earth ship was gaining attention for all the wrong reasons, with its poor performance.

Among the claims were 147 entries for intensive mental health treatment, something incomprehensible from the perspective of the upper ranks, as well as requests for funding the development of humane euthanasia.

Officially, nothing was wrong with the paperwork, yet a few of the upper monsters couldn’t help but be annoyed by what seemed like a never-ending leak of funds.

“They’re probably just overreacting to a few minor injuries,” one thought dismissively. And so, they cleanly cut back on the funds.

The monster who managed to reduce those costs was rewarded with a promotion, all while being oblivious to the boiling frustration of the monsters doing the real work.

Word of the budget cuts traveled swiftly, with an impact that reached straight into the recovery rooms and quickly to Medic Tentacle. Noticing that the usual funds were no longer available, Medic Tentacle was understandably puzzled.

“What? Budget cuts? Why?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

“Oh no, what a mess…,” he muttered, bringing a mass of tentacles to his face in exasperation.

Already overwhelmed with handling issues related to Sun, Medic Tentacle now faced yet another problem, as one of his subordinates nervously asked, “What should we do? Should we stop running the treatment rooms?”

“Then what? Let them roam free in the ship?” he retorted. With a hiss, the door to the intensive care room slid open.

The door, which only opened when recovery room personnel were present to avoid disturbing other monsters, now led into darkness.

“Light, light! Kreaaaak~!!”

“The… the mask… heehee.”

“Oh, fear the name of the one who will bring us our end…”

“Sun, Sun, Sssun.”

The monsters in the room, immersed in darkness with barely a hint of light, were all writhing with various symptoms, united in their fear of a single being.

One monster, who possessed an animalistic face closely resembling a human’s and was relatively unscathed from two encounters with her, was considered an anomaly.

Meanwhile, Gulprat, the fish monster who had managed to not only come away unscathed from their first encounter but even engage in conversation, had become a focal point of Medic Tentacle’s intensive research.

Between this hint of a breakthrough and the sudden budget crisis, Medic Tentacle reached a bold decision.

“I’m going to the Black Zone myself.”

“What…?”

The monsters in the recovery room could only gape, exchanging bewildered glances at each other and at their superior, Medic Tentacle, who had just dropped a bombshell announcement. Perhaps, he thought, if these monsters were bound to break anyway, then it wouldn’t matter?

One of his subordinates suddenly raised a hand and asked, “Do you want to give it all up?”

Was it that he’d become so bored with life that he had begun to explore the genre of pain?

In that short question, which held so many layered meanings, Medic Tentacle shook his head. With a resolute expression, as if he were ready to face death, he replied,

“No. I intend to try talking. It would be more accurate to call it a negotiation where I’m going to bend.”

“Will she agree to talk?” asked the creature from the recovery room, clearly puzzled.

It was a natural question. After all, she—being able to recognize them, the monsters, as a different species—could also become infinitely cruel precisely because she, too, was human.

“Though it’s still just a guess… she might wear the guise of a monster, but she’s human, too.

If our interests align, she’s bound to listen!” Medic Tentacle confidently responded, citing the nature of humanity as his example.

Though as he answered, he mumbled, lowering his head slightly, as if he wasn’t completely sure. “…Probably.”

Fittingly for that slight uncertainty, Medic Tentacle took out a device given only to high-ranking monsters.

A small ship transporter, capable of realizing every monster’s desire to reach the black region. Like everything else on the ship, it was a remnant of a lost technology.

A precious artifact, with no known way of recreating it, as the manufacturing methods had been lost to time.

Taking it out meant he was serious—it was no joke; he was truly determined to head down to the surface.

“…Good luck!” The monsters in the recovery room, half worried and half hopeful, clenched their fists to cheer him on. After all, if his attempt at negotiation succeeded in any way, it would lessen the burdens they’d have to bear.

But Medic Tentacle, instead of departing immediately, grabbed a nearby white metal plate and dipped a tentacle in an ink-like substance to start writing something.

“What are you doing?” one asked.

“Writing in Earth’s language. It’d be troublesome to get bombed to death before I can even begin negotiations, wouldn’t it?” Medic Tentacle replied, crafting his persuasive words with satisfaction.

Meanwhile, at an elementary school on Earth, where the opening ceremony had just ended…

Students turned in their holiday homework, and seating arrangements were rearranged as fitting for a new school term. Sun, who had gotten used to a broken sleep rhythm over the vacation, immediately found herself placed in the very back row as soon as she let go of her desire for sleep.

“Damn,” she cursed inwardly, unable to hold back. The exact situation she had longed for had finally arrived. Now, even if she wanted to sleep, her annoying body wouldn’t let her fall asleep in school

Following that, came the barely-there class hours that were typical right after a new term began.

“Haaam,” she yawned, despite not feeling sleepy, just because the urge hit her. And then, she felt something wriggle in her pocket—a signal from Bear that needed no explanation. She immediately raised her hand, wearing an anxious expression as if she couldn’t wait another moment.

“Teacher, I need to go to the bathroom…”

“Just go quickly.”

A strategy that would mostly work for elementary school kids.

Around middle school, or even earlier, say, for upper-grade kids, if they start answering with a “hold it,” then things could get awkward.

I can’t keep using the bathroom as an excuse every time, so I should start thinking of other ones.

My steps took me up to the 4th-grade girls’ bathroom.

By the time you’re in the upper grades, going to the bathroom during class is nearly impossible.

The 1st and 2nd-grade bathrooms often have kids from other classes, making them unsuitable for transformation.

So, even if it’s inconvenient, I come all the way up here.

After scanning the hallway and confirming that the stalls are empty, I finally muttered the transformation spell.

“Sun.”

A horizontally wide, vertically narrow window, way above the kids’ height.

I squeezed through it, taking guidance from Bear up in the sky.

“That way, that way!”

“Huh?”

In the middle of a big road, far from school, where people had already evacuated.

After the blaring sirens stopped, there stood a monster holding some sort of metal plate over its head with what looked like hands?

On the metal plate, scrawled awkwardly with ink or something, was a jumbled mix of clumsy English and Korean, written in a way that even Siyeon could probably write better.

[i want 대화 원해요.]

“…What the hell is that idiot?”

Ordinarily, the monster would be dealt with without a word.

It’s a summer day, and I didn’t want to be outside long, especially during class.

I had planned to take care of it quickly and head back, but the strange pattern made me tilt my head, deciding to at least hear it out.

No matter what kind of attack it tried, my transformed body was like having a cheat code for invincibility, so I stood before it, willing to listen.

“What are you?”

“Ah, thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me.”

The octopus-like monster, which had been waving the metal plate enthusiastically like a banner, brought it down to its chest, flashing a wide, unmistakable smile that even its alien face couldn’t hide, and offered a polite greeting.

“Are you, by any chance, the magical girl Sun?”

A friendly-looking monster, asking right off if I was Sun.

Not a great feeling, knowing some monster I’d never seen knew who I was.

I tapped my shoulder lightly with my still-unheated staff and asked with a mocking tone, dripping in sarcasm.

“So, what business does my old buddy have with me?”

“Old buddy? Ah, no, that’s not important… Actually, I’ve come with some beneficial information that could help us both.”

The monster, introducing itself as Medic Tentacle, claimed to be something of a lieutenant-level monster.

It proposed a deal specifically with magical girl Sun, that is, with me, saying it was suffering no small amount of loss due to me.

The place we live, in other words… the “black zone” from the monsters’ perspective.

It pleaded that, no matter what, it wouldn’t send any monsters here for the time being, as long as I didn’t leave this area.

The Medic Tentacle was already kneeling in front of me like a student being punished.

“So, the duration?”

“20 sethre… which, in Earth terms, is 1,320 day-night cycles.”

“Oh-ho.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what a “sethre” was, but 1,320 days—roughly calculated—meant that we wouldn’t have any monsters showing up here for several years, and it wasn’t even a burden for us.

With nothing on the line, there was no reason for me to refuse.

“H-how does that sound…?”

The Medic Tentacle, at the peak of groveling, was nervously rubbing its tentacles together.

“I’m very satisfied. Let’s go with that.”

I nodded approvingly, raising my staff in agreement.

“Uh… so, why are you pointing the staff at me?”

“Huh? Don’t you have to be killed instantly to return?”

Watching me mention death with total indifference, it freaked out and waved its hands—well, its tentacles—around wildly in refusal.

It pulled out a small device from something resembling human clothes and vehemently refused death, insisting it would be fine.

“No, no, no! I can go back on my own just fine!”

The Medic Tentacle pressed a button on the device, scattering into a holographic light that shot up into the sky.

The first time a monster appeared, and it left without being defeated.

An effective monster-dispelling technique, acknowledged by monster executives.

I knew I wasn’t wrong after all.