Geuru clapped both hands over his mouth to keep it from opening, his pupils trembling.
‘Why does this work?’
And so, with both cheeks puffed out full of acorns, Geuru transported them to the storage shed.
“Uweeeek.”
Acorns tumbled out of his mouth and rolled all over the floor of the shed.
With every acorn that fell, he felt as if he was losing something of himself as a human being.
‘Geuru, why are you doing this……?’
At the age of four, he suddenly found himself reflecting on the meaning of his existence.
As his sense of purpose—that he had to find Ham Honggi—began to fade slightly, questions about his current situation boiled up inside him.
‘Geuru’s a flying squirrel, isn’t he? A king, isn’t he?’
The RP Dungeon was a world that showed no mercy, not even to kings.
And so, on the third day.
This was what Geuru learned.
‘Are these squirrels primitive rodents?’
When Cheche, who had said she would make him a meal, started trimming potatoes with a stone knife, he nearly fainted.
The squirrel tribe worked hard day and night, but they lived a poor, primitive life. Geuru, who had to work alongside the squirrel tribe, also had to live that primitive life with them.
‘Geuru can’t stand this!’
On the morning of the third day, Geuru, freshly bathed in cold water, clenched his teeth with his squeaky-clean face.
Geuru was an S-rank crafting-type Hunter born in modern society. He would never get used to primitive living in his life, nor would he ever need to.
‘In that case, there’s only one way.’
Geuru opened “Expand, Bag-Bag” and rummaged inside.
His thick tail swished from side to side.
*
“Squeak.” (This is bad. At this rate, we might not be able to meet the deadline.)
Cheche said worriedly as she straightened her bent back.
For some reason, the contaminated land had expanded far too much lately, and the lifespan of the oak trees had suddenly shortened, throwing their schedule into disarray.
They had to hurry and plant acorns, grow them, and harvest them, but even pulling up the oak trees whose lifespans had ended was proving difficult.
“Squeak squeak.” (We must manage it. If we fail to deliver the acorns, there will be serious trouble. The day of tribute is approaching.)
Soon, the snow leopard tribe’s tax collector would arrive.
There was still time left before the tribute deadline for the ultimate “special purification acorns,” but they also had to offer “ordinary purification acorns” periodically.
If the tax collector saw them struggling like this, disaster might strike.
At the thought of the snow leopard tax collector, the squirrels’ ears and tails drooped.
If that tax collector scurried off to the imperial palace and reported the situation, the imperial court might send terrifying snow leopards to swallow the squirrels in one bite.
Or they might order the snow leopards to drag all the squirrels into the contaminated zone and throw them into the swamp.
As a gloomy atmosphere settled over them, the young squirrels raised their voices.
“Squeak squeak! Squeak squeak!” (Let’s stay strong! The Flying Squirrel has come, hasn’t he?)
“Squeak!” (That’s right! The Flying Squirrel is here!)
A few optimistic squirrels nodded in agreement, but the other squirrels glanced around and fell silent.
The young flying squirrel from another world was not strong, and the capacity of his cheek pouches was nothing impressive. He was merely cute and adorable.
Being uselessly cute was not a problem for the squirrels, but it would be a big problem for him.
After all, if the farm’s harvest was poor, the first one the snow leopards would punish would be that young flying squirrel.
In that case, wasn’t he actually someone the squirrels needed to protect?
The mood among the squirrels, whose combat power was infinitely close to zero, grew even more troubled.
“Squeak squeak!” (But if Master returns, we won’t have to fear the tax collector!)
At the title of Master, they nodded once more.
Their flying squirrel was still young enough that he could not hide his ears and tail, but Master was different.
He was a proper adult squirrel beastman, and though he was an outsider from another world, he was the strongest man among the squirrels.
A few members of the tribe had clearly witnessed how, several days ago, he had suddenly appeared, easily defeated a contaminant, and protected the squirrels.
Immediately afterward, he had vanished, saying he had something else to do, but since the young squirrel called the man Master, everyone had tacitly taken to serving him as both Master and bulwark.
“Squeak squeak! Squeak squeeeak!” (Yes, there is a way! Let’s all just work hard at our own tasks!)
“Squeak! Squeak squeak!” (Good! Let’s work hard and protect the Flying Squirrel!)
Just as the reinvigorated squirrels began busily moving their paws again—
Clank, clank!
At the dull noise of something crushing the stones on the ground, the squirrels raised their heads. The source of the noise was clearly approaching them.
“Squeeeak?”
“Squeak?”
The eyes of the squirrels, who had been straining to pull trees out by hand, quivered.
‘What on earth is that?’
The one furiously stepping on the pedals of that huge yellow thing as he approached was undoubtedly their king.
Geuru, who had been cheerfully working the pedals, swerved with a whoosh and brought the vehicle to a stop in front of them.
When he climbed down from the saddle and patted its body, the squirrels gathered around Geuru in a circle.
It had a body large enough for one person to sit in, and a long arm attached to it. At the end of that arm was a yellow scoop with teeth.
The squirrels touched it here and there, like blind men encountering an elephant for the first time.
‘Everyone’s amazed.’
In a primitive society like this, it must be quite a shock.
Feeling proud, Geuru leaned his back against the vehicle, folded his arms, and kept glancing at the squirrels, keenly aware of their gazes.
‘Hurry up and ask what it is.’
If he started chattering before anyone even asked, it would not uphold his dignity as king.
He acted as if his goal lay elsewhere, as if he had no interest whatsoever in playing king, but Geuru was thoroughly immersed in his role as the flying squirrel king of the squirrels.
And the squirrels, too, were each stealing glances at Geuru.
‘His Majesty is striking such a pose.’
‘He is waiting for something.’
‘He is posing and waiting.’
Just as Geuru could no longer bear it and was about to open his mouth, Kiki, the oldest squirrel, asked for him.
“Squeeeeak. Squeak squeak.” (Your Majesty, what on earth is this?)
Heh. Geuru’s lips curled up in a grin.
“Ahh, you wouldn’t know. Dis is, you see, what they call an exkavator in my world.”
It was part of a series of children’s electric heavy-equipment vehicles themed after a car animation. Among them, Geuru had modified the excavator.
“Geuru modified it a wittle with his own power.”
Because he had combined it with a game pad and added control sticks, unlike the original product that only imitated one, it could truly be operated like an excavator.
[Tayo! Super-Strong Excavator (D)]
Strength like the strongest under heaven!
Geuru picked up the pad, moved the excavator, easily scooped up an oak tree, then flung the trees in the scoop aside and stacked them neatly.
Once he used the excavator, ten trees on the farm were pulled out in the blink of an eye.
The squirrels’ eyes filled with astonishment.
“Squeak!”
“Squee!”
All the squirrel tribe members knelt before Geuru.
‘Heh.’
Geuru raised his head proudly and rubbed his nose with his index finger.
“As wong as we’ve got the exkavator, pulling up trees will only take one day!”
Good heavens! The squirrels’ eyes sparkled.
This young king was not a useless and cute flying squirrel.
He was a capable and cute flying squirrel!
Thus began the squirrel tribe’s industrial revolution, brought about by the flying squirrel.