Beast Gacha System: All Mine

"It seems we’re ready for Leg 4.0."

"A-ah, no, I think this one is already perfect!" Bessa waved her hands hurriedly, her cheeks flushing as she stepped back. The motion made her prosthetic sink deeper into the sand, and she wobbled again before catching herself.

"We’ll have to move on to 4.0 soon anyway, to make it look more natural. It still looks ugly right now," Jenggala said, his eyes still fixed on the mechanical joint critically.

"It looks cool! It doesn’t look ugly at all," Bessa insisted, firm with conviction.

Jenggala chuckled. "You said the same thing about 1.0 and 2.0."

"Because all of them look cool!" She said it with such earnestness, such absolute sincerity, that he couldn’t argue.

He only smiled as he offered his arm and escorted her carefully across the beach, his steady grip compensating for the uneven sand, guiding her toward the nearby foliage that fringed the coastline.

"See? I told you I saw lavender around these beaches," Jenggala said, gesturing ahead with his free hand.

"Sea lavender!" Bessa stumbled forward, her prosthetic forgotten, her eyes going wide as she took in the field that stretched before them.

The plants grew in wild, sprawling clusters, their tiny purple blooms creating a mist of color that hovered just above the green leaves. The morning light caught the petals and made them glow, and the salt breeze carried their faint, sweet fragrance across the beach.

"Wow!"

The two of them wandered through the field together, laughing and pointing out particularly beautiful clusters, their voices mingling with the distant cry of seabirds and the gentle hiss of the tide.

Bessa’s heart felt too full for her chest. She loved farming, the honest labor of it. But as much as she loved farming, she loved gardening more.

To tend a garden every day, to nurture flowers and herbs and watch them bloom, to have enough time for both the practical and the beautiful, that would be perfect. That would be a dream.

But such a life might never be within her reach. Not with the debt she owed to Princess Angela.

Forever being Angel’s Baby was her destiny, and she had made her peace with that. After all, she suspected the "one favor" the Princess had requested was only the beginning. There would be more. There were always more.

"It’s too bad I can’t bring them home..." Bessa whispered, her fingers brushing gently over a spray of sea lavender.

"Yes," Jenggala nodded, his deep voice thoughtful. "But you can always return here whenever you want."

"What?" Bessa blinked at him, and then laughed. "How? This is across the world from my home."

Jenggala shrugged.

"My Lord, do you forget that I have not only lost one leg, but also never had wings in the first place?" She laughed even more, her eyes crinkling.

"I mean, I can bring you here whenever you..." Jenggala stopped himself mid-sentence. What was he even talking about?

He was a dragon, a being whose very presence made grown warriors tremble. And here he was, offering to be a taxi service for a one-legged alchemist who got excited about flowers.

Bessa looked at him, and blood rushed to her face for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

She reminded herself firmly that he was a dragon. He must have just been... courteous. After all, she was the Dragon Lord’s contracted alchemist.

"I’ll show you more beautiful plants later. You haven’t seen anything yet," Jenggala said, recovering his composure.

Bessa just nodded without words. She hid her smile, and hid her reddening face, by looking down at the sea lavender.

"Your potion production quota is done for the week...?" Jenggala asked after a long, comfortable silence filled only by the sound of the tide and the wind through the flowers.

"Yes," Bessa answered, grateful for the change of subject. "I can take a long break this time because I made a bit more than needed."

"Then I’ll drop you home in the afternoon, and we can go somewhere closer to home next. There’s a wild sunflower field I want to show you."

"Thank you. I... I’d love to see them all."

Jenggala smiled. Then he sighed, shaking his head with a rueful expression. "If only I had more people like you who would be excited just by looking at plants."

"Huh? I’m sure a lot of people do!" Bessa said, genuinely surprised.

"Humans and beasts usually shit themselves in front of me."

"Pfff—I-I’d also shit myself if you suddenly appeared... it’s only thanks to His and Her Majesty that I can be calm around you."

"Is that so?"

"Mm." Bessa nodded firmly. "You are exalted and scary."

"Hmph." Jenggala raised his chin high. But the corner of his mouth twitched, and Bessa had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

The journey home was quiet, suspended between the golden afternoon light and the endless blue of the sky.

Jenggala flew lower this time, his great green wings skimming just above the cloud line, close enough to the earth that Bessa could see the patchwork of fields and forests scrolling beneath them like a living tapestry.

The wind was gentler at this altitude, a warm current that carried the scent of wild grass and distant woodsmoke. Bessa leaned forward against Jenggala’s scale, her eyes half-closed, her body finally relaxed into the rhythm of flight after so many journeys.

She didn’t speak, and neither did Jenggala. Now and then, he would tilt his wings to catch a thermal, and she would laugh softly at the sudden lift, and he would rumble in response, a sound she felt through the scales beneath her more than she heard it.

They landed in the late afternoon, when the sun had begun its slow descent toward the western hills and the light had turned thick and golden.

Jenggala’s claws touched down on the grassy field beside Bessa’s cottage with the same smoothness as always, barely disturbing the wildflowers that grew along the path.

Bessa slid down from his back, her prosthetic finding solid ground without stumbling this time, and turned to face him as he shifted into his humanoid form.

"That was so fast," Bessa said, still slightly breathless from the flight. "I think you’re getting faster, my Lord."

"You haven’t seen how fast His Majesty can fly. I’m just barely good at flying. I’m a Jungle Dragon, after all," Jenggala replied, eyes glinting with amusement.

"I don’t believe you. I think there’s no such thing as a Jungle Dragon at all," Bessa said, handing Jenggala his clothes.

"My name literally means Jungle, woman."

"But I really don’t think Jungle Dragon exists!"

"This human..." Jenggala shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You’re just a glorified earth dragon, right?"

"That’s not—"

"Pffft—"

"Hmph!"

Their little banter stopped when Bessa spotted a man standing in front of her cottage.

He was waiting in the shade of the old oak tree that grew beside her garden gate, his posture relaxed but patient, as though he had been there for some time and didn’t mind the wait.

The afternoon sun dappled through the leaves and painted shifting patterns of light and shadow across his handsome face.

Her eyes widened. "You are..."

"Angel’s Baby, we meet again," the man smiled.

Jenggala looked at the man, and something uncomfortable rose in his chest. Not quite jealousy. He had no claim to Bessa, no right to feel anything about the men who visited her cottage.

But the stranger was handsome. By human standards, ahem. Not comparable to himself at all, of course. And Bessa clearly knew him well enough to recognize him on sight.

Somehow, that didn’t feel good.

"Angel’s Sweetheart...?" Bessa creased her eyebrows, the old code name slipping out before she could stop it.

Angel’s Sweetheart’s real name was Dean. He was also an alchemist, one of the many who owed Princess Angela one favor.

After Bessa had paid her one favor by helping Cecilia and Oathran, the original plan had been to reach out to Dean next, to cash in for his one favor.

But then, Bessa had agreed to take the position, and so Dean’s favor had gone unclaimed. After that, Bessa had thought nothing more of it. But it seemed Princess Angela had contacted Dean on her own and given him her address.

Dean had come to her cottage once before, asking her to introduce him to the Dragon Lord and his mate. Perhaps he needed some extra money.

Bessa had agreed to make the introduction, but that was when Dean had been told he had another mission to fulfill as his one favor. They hadn’t met again since then.

"How’s your end?" Bessa asked, genuinely curious.

"Things turned out better. It seems the Princess misunderstood and thought you needed help with the alchemist job, and she saw that I needed money. But when she realized you were enough for the job on your own, she gave me a different one," Dean answered, his smile easy and untroubled.

"That’s great!" Bessa beamed, and he nodded in return. "I’m sorry I didn’t get to introduce you. His and Her Majesty have been... busier than I thought..."

"It’s okay, Bessa. My one favor... I actually liked it. I even decided to keep working under the Princess after it was done. She told me I’ve paid the debt, but as you know, I need money, and the work is nice," Dean said.

Bessa nodded enthusiastically. "I’m happy for you."

"This is...?" Dean turned to Jenggala, his expression politely curious.

Bessa suddenly remembered her companion and awkwardly gestured between the two men. "This is... uh..."

"Jenggala," the dragon said. "Miss Bessa’s friend."

Dean smiled and bowed politely, a gesture of genuine respect rather than fear. "Nice to meet you, my Lord."

It seemed the alchemist had sensed that Jenggala was some noble person just from his countenance alone. Jenggala displayed none of his draconic traits. No horns, no scales, no wings. But still, his aura was unmistakable.

And also, he was handsome beyond any human standard. Well, not as handsome as the Dragon Lord, but still more than any human and most beast.

"So... what’s the purpose of your visit this time? Do you need anything? I’ll help, if I can," Bessa offered.

Dean shook his head. "No," he said. "I’m just here to deliver the Princess’s message."

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