I PICKED UP A CHILD IN A DUMPSTER-Chapter 64: Hunger Before Truth? (IV)

"And... you wouldn’t believe this but..." Seorin muttered.

I stared at her.

"...? What?" I asked slowly. "What am I not going to believe?"

For a second, she didn’t answer.

The status window hovering in front of her flickered once— then vanished completely, like it had decided it had already caused enough psychological damage to her.

Seorin stood up.

Not dramatically, actually it looks dramatic if she does it.

But it was... thoughtfully.

She dusted off her clothes, walked toward me, then placed a hand on my shoulder.

"That thing..." she said quietly, eyes drifting down to my finger, "...is useful."

"Just say it normally."

"Shut your mouth." She replied immediately.

I blinked.

"Ok, anyway... usefull?"

"It depends," she cleared her throat.. "Fifty-fifty."

(That’s scary.)

She withdraw her hand and crossed her arms on her chest, her expression shifting into something more analytical— the serious Seorin.

"Proto Items," she continued, "are relic-class growth artifacts. Nobody knows who made them. Nobody knows how many exist. They attach to a host and evolve through phases."

My stomach dropped slightly.

"They also," she added flatly, "tend to disagree with their host."

I stared at her.

"Disagree?"

"As in," she said, raising a brow, "they have their own developmental trajectory. Their own instincts. Their own priorities."

The warmth in my finger pulsed faintly. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Slow.

Soft, somehow, l know it is listening.

Seorin’s gaze sharpened.

"Most recorded cases end the same way," she said quietly. "The item keeps the host alive until Phase Four. That’s when the temporary soul lock stabilizes."

"And after Phase Four?" I asked.

She hesitated.

That hesitation said more than words.

"It depends."

(On what? Compatibility? Obedience? My usefulness?)

I swallowed.

"So..." she finished with a forced thumbs up that somehow felt insulting, "good luck? I don’t even know if it likes you."

My eyes twitched.

That was when the darker window reappeared.

Not bouncing.

Not wiggling.

Just... appearing.

Right beside my hand.

But the expression was different this time.

The face wasn’t wide and hungry.

It was— Rounded? And affectionate...

「( ˘ ³˘ ) More, 아빠?」

(아빠? > Papa in Korean ’appa’, What kids normally call their dad, soft, affectionate, everyday word)

Silence.

The forest air felt colder.

Seorin looked at the floating text.

Then she slowly turned her head toward me.

Her face was blank for half a second.

Then— "ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ... Yeah. Never mind. I think it likes you."

My brain stopped functioning.

I stared at the text.

"...Wha—"

Before I could finish—

「(≧▽≦) More!!!」

My hand moved.

Not violently or aggressively.

Just... eagerly.

My arm extended toward another mole-rat corpse.

The ring reacted instantly— stretching into a thin, semi-translucent layer, wrapping around the body like a liquid.

There was no sound.

No crunch.

No tearing.

The body simply... collapsed inward.

As if something removed the concept of it from reality.

Then it was gone.

Empty.

A small window blinked into existence, once again.

「+0.1 STR」

The warmth in my finger increased slightly.

Not hot.

Just... pleased.

And that terrified me more than if it had hurt.

Because it didn’t feel malicious.

It felt... satisfied.

Behind that satisfaction, something else lingered.

Curiosity, recognition and most of all possessiveness...?

I slowly lowered my hand.

(Did... did this thing just... what the Fuck.)

"...It called me Papa," I muttered faintly.

Seorin nodded.

"Yes."

"That’s... new? Or is it not? Do proto items usually call their host papa?"

"Yes."

"Say It normally! What do you mean Yes!" I shouted.

Seorin stared at the ground for a moment, her shoulders rising and falling with a long, tired sigh. Then, with painful slowness, she looked up at me.

"...It’s really not normal."

I exhaled shakily and looked down at the ring.

The faint outline that had once seemed like an accessory now felt... anchored.

Rooted to me...

Like it wasn’t sitting on my skin... actually it is sitting on my skin but... like it was threaded through something deeper.

A subtle sensation pulsed beneath my awareness.

Not controlled... Not yet.

But alignment.

As if my nervous system and the ring’s structure were gradually syncing frequencies.

Seorin crouched slightly and lowered her voice.

"Proto Items grow through accumulation," she said. "Energy. Essence. Death. But growth isn’t just physical."

I didn’t like where this was going.

"They adapt," she continued. "To their host. To their environment. To the threats."

The darkness at the edge of our vision shifted again.

Closer.

Watching.

The forest of the Snowfall Mountain doesn’t feel quiet anymore...

It felt... aware.

My ring pulsed once more.

Soft.

Excited.

Not toward the corpse this time.

Toward the dark.

The cheerful window flickered.

「(≧▽≦) More?」

But this time... It wasn’t looking at the ground.

It was angled slightly outward... Toward whatever had just moved beyond our sight.

My stomach dropped.

"...Seorin," I said slowly.

She didn’t look at me.

"I know."

Her hand drifted toward her weapon... the black katana that always throbbed somehow.

The air grew heavy.

The ring warmed again— not impatient.

"And... you wouldn’t believe this but..." Seorin muttered.

I stared at her.

"...? What?" I asked slowly. "What am I not going to believe?"

For a second, she didn’t answer.

The status window hovering in front of her flickered once— then vanished completely, like it had decided it had already caused enough psychological damage to her.

Seorin stood up.

Not dramatically, actually it looks dramatic if she does it.

But it was... thoughtfully.

She dusted off her clothes, walked toward me, then placed a hand on my shoulder.

"That thing..." she said quietly, eyes drifting down to my finger, "...is useful."

"Just say it normally."

"Shut your mouth." She replied immediately.

I blinked.

"Ok, anyway... usefull?"

"It depends," she cleared her throat.. "Fifty-fifty."

(That’s scary.)

She withdraw her hand and crossed her arms on her chest, her expression shifting into something more analytical— the serious Seorin.

"Proto Items," she continued, "are relic-class growth artifacts. Nobody knows who made them. Nobody knows how many exist. They attach to a host and evolve through phases."

My stomach dropped slightly.

"They also," she added flatly, "tend to disagree with their host."

I stared at her.

"Disagree?"

"As in," she said, raising a brow, "they have their own developmental trajectory. Their own instincts. Their own priorities."

The warmth in my finger pulsed faintly.

Slow.

Soft, somehow, l know it is listening.

Seorin’s gaze sharpened.

"Most recorded cases end the same way," she said quietly. "The item keeps the host alive until Phase Four. That’s when the temporary soul lock stabilizes."

"And after Phase Four?" I asked.

She hesitated.

That hesitation said more than words.

"It depends."

(On what? Compatibility? Obedience? My usefulness?)

I swallowed.

"So..." she finished with a forced thumbs up that somehow felt insulting, "good luck? I don’t even know if it likes you."

My eyes twitched.

That was when the darker window reappeared.

Not bouncing.

Not wiggling.

Just... appearing.

Right beside my hand.

But the expression was different this time.

The face wasn’t wide and hungry.

It was— Rounded? And affectionate...

「( ˘ ³˘ ) More, 아빠?」

(아빠? > Papa in Korean ’appa’, What kids normally call their dad, soft, affectionate, everyday word)

Silence.

The forest air felt colder.

Seorin looked at the floating text.

Then she slowly turned her head toward me.

Her face was blank for half a second.

Then— "ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ... Yeah. Never mind. I think it likes you."

My brain stopped functioning.

I stared at the text.

"...Wha—"

Before I could finish—

「(≧▽≦) More!!!」

My hand moved.

Not violently or aggressively.

Just... eagerly.

My arm extended toward another mole-rat corpse.

The ring reacted instantly— stretching into a thin, semi-translucent layer, wrapping around the body like a liquid.

There was no sound.

No crunch.

No tearing.

The body simply... collapsed inward.

As if something removed the concept of it from reality.

Then it was gone.

Empty.

A small window blinked into existence, once again.

「+0.1 STR」

The warmth in my finger increased slightly.

Not hot.

Just... pleased.

And that terrified me more than if it had hurt.

Because it didn’t feel malicious.

It felt... satisfied.

Behind that satisfaction, something else lingered.

Curiosity, recognition and most of all possessiveness...?

I slowly lowered my hand.

(Did... did this thing just... what the Fuck.)

"...It called me Papa," I muttered faintly.

Seorin nodded.

"Yes."

"That’s... new? Or is it not? Do proto items usually call their host papa?"

"Yes."

"Say It normally! What do you mean Yes!" I shouted.

Seorin stared at the ground for a moment, her shoulders rising and falling with a long, tired sigh. Then, with painful slowness, she looked up at me.

"...It’s really not normal."

I exhaled shakily and looked down at the ring.

The faint outline that had once seemed like an accessory now felt... anchored.

Rooted to me...

Like it wasn’t sitting on my skin... actually it is sitting on my skin but... like it was threaded through something deeper.

A subtle sensation pulsed beneath my awareness.

Not controlled... Not yet.

But alignment.

As if my nervous system and the ring’s structure were gradually syncing frequencies.

Seorin crouched slightly and lowered her voice.

"Proto Items grow through accumulation," she said. "Energy. Essence. Death. But growth isn’t just physical."

I didn’t like where this was going.

"They adapt," she continued. "To their host. To their environment. To the threats."

The darkness at the edge of our vision shifted again.

Closer.

Watching.

The forest of the Snowfall Mountain doesn’t feel quiet anymore...

It felt... aware.

My ring pulsed once more.

Soft.

Excited.

Not toward the corpse this time.

Toward the dark.

The cheerful window flickered.

「(≧▽≦) More?」

But this time... It wasn’t looking at the ground.

It was angled slightly outward... Toward whatever had just moved beyond our sight.

My stomach dropped.

"...Seorin," I said slowly.

She didn’t look at me.

"I know."

Her hand drifted toward her weapon... the black katana that always throbbed somehow.

The air grew heavy.

The ring warmed again— not impatient.

"The fuck...? it’s turning warm."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them. The ring around my finger pulsed again— not hot or burning— just steadily warm, like something alive adjusting its breathing. The sensation crawled faintly up my knuckle, subtle but undeniable.

And... Cliffhanger.