A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

The trek to Naga's office felt longer than it should have. Maybe it was because my pockets were lighter, thanks to the ridiculous expenses I couldn't file for reimbursement—apparently, I needed the founder's approval.

Which, on the bright side, worked out. Since I was heading straight to see him anyway.

When I finally reached the door, I knocked, and a muffled voice from inside granted me entry.

Let me tell you—I had never set foot in Naga's office before. And the first thing that hit me when I stepped inside?

Nothing.

No personal touches. No decorations. No clutter. Just empty, impersonal space of basic furnishing. It felt like the kind of office someone only used when they absolutely had to.

Like today.

Naga sat behind his desk, flashing me his usual grin, tiny fangs peeking out. "Carl! How was your last trip?"

I hesitated. "Uh… eventful?"

His grin widened, eyes glinting with something knowing.

Wait. What was that supposed to mean?

Before I could ask, his expression shifted—serious now. His gaze moved to the man standing a few feet away, his back turned to me. Why does this person's back seem familiar to me?

"If you have something to say to Carl, say it now," Naga said evenly.

The man turned.

Dark, messy hair. Green eyes, tired with age. A hint of stubble on his chin.

And then he smiled.

The world tilted.

My breath caught.

"Dad?" The word barely left my lips. "W—what?! How'd you get here?"

I took a step forward, heart pounding in my chest. This didn't make sense. My father was here? Here? In Mythica?

How?

More importantly—how did he even know I was here?

Questions flooded my mind, scrambling over each other, but all he said was, "How are you doing, Carl?" Still smiling. Like this was normal.

I swallowed, barely processing. "I'm… fine. But you haven't answered me. How are you here? Who brought you?"

And why did I have the sinking feeling I wasn't going to like the answer?

My father kept smiling, but the creases around his eyes deepened. He didn't say a word at first, just glanced at Naga.

Naga didn't budge. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.

"I'd like a little privacy with him," my father finally said, his voice low.

Naga scoffed. "Yeah, not happening. Whatever you have to say, say it here, in plain sight. No secrets between me and Carl."

Wait. What?

A chill ran down my spine.

Why did that sound… ominous?

And more importantly—why was Naga acting like some overprotective BL love interest?

Did I walk into the wrong genre?!

"You dragons are so damn stubborn," my father quipped.

Wait. Hold on.

My father… knew Naga was a dragon?

A sinking feeling settled in my gut. This wasn't just a casual "father shows up out of nowhere" moment. I was about to uncover something big. And if my life in Mythica had taught me anything, it was that big truths had a tendency to slap me in the face like a territorial sea serpent.

I narrowed my eyes. "Wait, Dad… you know what this place is?"

More importantly—how did he know? I didn't even know Mythica existed before getting yeeted through a magical job portal.

My father sighed, his expression unreadable. "Carl, listen to me. What I'm about to tell you might sound weird, but I need you to trust me—it's the truth."

Weird? Dad. I live in a world where krakens breakdance and phoenixes refuse to get a job. Weird is my daily breakfast.

"What are you trying to say?" I asked cautiously.

His gaze hardened. "I'm here to take you out of this place. You have a purpose, Carl. And it's not wasting your life away on these conservation shenanigans they're feeding you."

I blinked. "Shenanigans?"

"We're not making him 'slave away,'" Naga interjected, voice laced with amusement. "Carl is well taken care of here. Everyone adores him. He's practically a local celebrity, right, Carl?"

I ignored him. What the hell was happening right now?

I turned back to my father, my face contorted in sheer bewilderment. This was easily the most confused I'd been since arriving in Mythica—which said a lot.

The only thing that topped this was the time my lunch got stolen by the gang of unicorns for three weeks straight.

"Huh? But… I kinda like it here," I said slowly. "I mean, yeah, there's danger, but I have bodyguards half the time. And the job pays well! You always told me to do what I love. And I love caring for animals. Sure, they breathe fire or have too many tentacles, but they're still creatures."

My father pressed his lips together in frustration. Then he dropped the bombshell.

"No, Carl. You're meant for something bigger than this." His eyes locked onto mine. "You're the Fragment Bearer."

A what now?

Fragment Bearer? Did my father know I could absorb godly fragments?

His gaze was intense, unwavering. "Your place is with the Theos, Carl. You could disrupt the world's balance with your ability alone."

Theos?

Why did that name feel... familiar? Like a word I'd heard in passing but never fully grasped.

I tried to recall—dig through my memories—but it was like chasing smoke. Bits and pieces slipped through my fingers, hazy and unreachable.

As if… they'd been erased.

Naga's expression darkened, his usual playful demeanor vanishing like mist under the sun. His voice was sharp, laced with warning. "Spare him your delusional rhetoric, you zealot," he growled. "He is not just a Fragment Bearer. Stop trying to manipulate him."

Zealot? Wait—was my dad in a cult?!

The air grew thick with tension. A heavy, suffocating aura rippled from Naga, pressing down on the room like an impending storm.

Whoa. Okay. That was new.

"Naga, hold on," I said quickly, raising a hand to stop him before he decided to rearrange the office with his bare hands. "Let me talk to my dad first."

Naga didn't look convinced, but he didn't move, his dragon green eyes locked onto my father like a predator assessing a threat.

I turned my attention back to my father.

"Alright. Start from the top. I have no idea what you're trying to tell me, but what in all of Mythica is Theos? And how do you know I can absorb fragments?"

At that, my father's expression shifted—like a gambler flipping over a winning hand. His lips curled into a satisfied grin.

"You've absorbed them?" His voice trembled with something that made my stomach twist. And then—he laughed. Laughed. Like he just won some cosmic lottery.

"Well done, Carl," he said, eyes gleaming with something unsettling. "I knew it was worth raising you."

…What?

Worth raising me?

A cold weight settled in my chest. Suddenly, I didn't like the way he was looking at me.

And, for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure if I even knew who my father really was.