A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

One was dressed like an explorer, complete with a weathered satchel and boots that had clearly seen too much adventure. The other looked like he had just walked out of a high-rise office, wearing a crisp business suit with polished shoes.

Both men wore furious, unsatisfied expressions as if they had been in the middle of an argument. But the most shocking thing?

They both looked exactly like Usumgallu—minus the monocle.

"Usum, tell him I was right!" the explorer-looking one snapped, jabbing a finger at the man in the business suit.

The businessman scoffed, adjusting his tie with exaggerated annoyance. "For the last time, Basmu, you were wrong. I was right."

Usumgallu's expression darkened with impatience and thinly veiled disapproval. He exhaled sharply before clearing his throat. "Brothers, if you hadn't noticed, I am quite busy. I am attending an owner."

At that, both of them finally turned and acknowledged our presence. Their gazes landed on me, scanning me from head to toe with unsettling interest.

"Oh?" The businessman smirked. "You finally have owners visiting?"

"Quite rare, this one," Basmu muttered, rubbing his chin as if I were a particularly intriguing specimen.

I shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny. It had become a disturbingly common occurrence lately—people inspecting me like I was some kind of newly discovered creature.

Great. Just what I needed. More cryptic weirdos evaluating my existence.

"But those three aren't owners, Usum. And you let them in?" the businessman scoffed, shooting an incredulous glance at the three gods standing behind me like personal bodyguards.

Usumgallu didn't even blink. "They're the owner's guards," he replied flatly.

"Guards?" Jiuge's ears twitched, her tails freezing mid-sway as she crossed her arms. She clearly wasn't thrilled about the label.

Amaterasu gently tugged on Jiuge's arm, shaking her head in silent warning. Not worth it.

The two identical men exchanged a look before turning back to Usumgallu, expecting him to return to their original argument.

Usumgallu let out a long, suffering sigh. "What is it that you need me to verify?" he asked, his tone heavy with the weight of someone who had dealt with this nonsense far too many times.

Immediately, both men launched into an overlapping explanation, talking over each other, contradicting each other, and somehow still managing to build on what the other was saying—until they finally reached a mutual conclusion.

"He was wrong, right?" they both asked in unison, gesturing at each other.

It took me a second to process the absurdity of what they had been arguing about.

Turns out, the entire heated debate was over a wine recipe. Not just any wine, though—Tündér Wine, a rare and highly sought-after spirit among magical beings, crafted exclusively by the Tündér Spirit Folk.

And why, exactly, were they asking Usumgallu for confirmation when he clearly wasn't a Tündér Spirit Folk himself?

Because his wife was.

Usumgallu adjusted his monocle with an air of finality. "Both of you are wrong."

"What?!" Both men shouted in unison, their outrage echoing through the book mall.

"I've already given you my answer. Now, kindly leave." Usumgallu's voice was clipped with irritation, his usual stoic demeanor slipping just enough to show his clear annoyance at their intrusion.

"That's ridiculous! I followed the recipe exactly!" Basmu protested, throwing his hands up. "Meanwhile, Mus wasn't even following the recipe!"

Mus shot him a withering glare. "Yours wasn't a verified recipe! You pulled it off some shady blog run by a wandering god! That's not real Tündér Spirit Folk recipe!"

Basmu opened his mouth for another retort, but one glance at Usumgallu's deepening scowl had both of them faltering. After a long, awkward silence, they slowly raised their hands in surrender and, without another word, disappeared into thin air.

I blinked at the empty space where they had stood just moments ago. Then, curiosity got the better of me. "So… are you guys triplets or what?"

Usumgallu gave a tired nod. "The eldest is Musumgallu. The middle one is Basmu. And I'm the youngest." He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Unfortunately, they are both incredibly immature."

Considering what I just witnessed, I couldn't exactly argue with that.

"Is the wine really that good?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. After all, if two grown men—well, ancient beings—were willing to argue like children over the recipe, it had to be something special.

Usumgallu adjusted his monocle before answering. "It's highly sought after, not just for its exquisite flavor but because it also has the ability to restore…" He hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing, "...vitality."

I caught that tiny pause but decided not to press him on it. Instead, I raised an eyebrow. "So, it's basically a luxury elixir that tastes good?"

"Something like that," Usumgallu admitted. "And it's just as expensive to make as it is to sell."

I nodded in understanding. "Makes sense. Though, I've never heard of the Tündér Spirit Folk before. This is my first time even coming across their name."

Usumgallu glanced at me, as if weighing whether I was worth the explanation. Eventually, he sighed. "They are a reclusive people, rarely interacting with outsiders." His tone softened slightly. "As a monster, I was lucky to marry one."

A monster?

For the first time since I'd met him, Usumgallu smiled.

It was subtle, barely there, but unmistakable. There was an almost… bashful look on his usually impassive face. "My wife is very beautiful."

I blinked. Wow. Love really does change people.

But just as quickly as the moment came, it vanished. Usumgallu's expression smoothed over, his usual stoic demeanor settling back into place as if that fleeting softness had never existed.

"If you don't mind me asking… what kind of monster are you?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Usumgallu gave me a long, unimpressed stare—the kind that made me feel like I'd just asked if water was wet. "Have you truly never heard of me?" His tone carried the same level of offense as a history professor realizing his students didn't know who Julius Caesar was. "We are quite popular. Not as famous as the Greeks or Norse, perhaps, but certainly well-known."

I scratched the back of my head, feeling guilty. "Uh… sorry?"

Before I could dig my own grave further, Agnos spoke up from behind me. "He's one of the three-horned serpents. Also known as the lion-dragon demon." Agnos flicked his tail and gave me a pointed look. "This Usum guy is a dragon."

I blinked. "A dragon? A three-headed dragon?"

That was… unexpected. But wait—if he was part of a three-headed dragon, wouldn't that make them more like a Siamese triplet rather than separate siblings? They all had their own bodies!

Usumgallu adjusted his monocle with an air of superiority. "That cat is correct. My name itself means dragon."

I was still stuck on the logistics. "But… if you're all part of a three-headed dragon, why do you have separate bodies?"