Beast Gacha System: All Mine

When Jenggala heard that Bessa had been summoned by the Princess, he couldn’t help but silently glare at Alchemist Dean. The man noticed it but Bessa didn’t.

Dean just smiled and nodded at him with that sincere, handsome face of his.

It did not ease the worry in Jenggala’s heart. Not even a little. In fact, it made it significantly worse. What did that even mean? To tell him not to worry? With that face? It felt less like reassurance and more like a taunt delivered with pleasant bone structure.

Jenggala was so worried that he flew above the carriage that carried Bessa to the palace the next day, concealing himself in the clouds for two days straight, only to follow her back to the cottage.

To him, it was a concern for a friend. A good friend. A very good friend who had no idea she was being shadowed by a dragon. That was all.

Imagine how flustered he was when he saw Bessa emerge from the palace and step into the carriage wearing such an elegant yet cute pale yellow dress.

He knew she was gorgeous before, the unexamined way he knew the sun was warm, but he didn’t know human women could shapeshift into a different kind of gorgeous.

A kind that made his chest feel like it had been filled with bees. Angry, buzzing, confused bees.

When he looked at Serayu, that would be the way Serayu would look for thousands of years. Dragons didn’t change much. Their forms were constant, carved by time into something eternal.

But Bessa, in just two days, had transformed so drastically that he almost didn’t recognize her. Changing so much, so quickly, perhaps only humans could do that. Perhaps that was their magic.

He was so focused on Bessa that he didn’t look closely at the people around her.

That was why, when they arrived at the cottage, leaving the guards and other escorts a respectful distance away so they could arrive privately at Bessa’s home, Jenggala noticed the man.

The one standing too close to Bessa.

His presence seemed to bend the air around him. He was different from any other human Jenggala had seen.

Well, he had seen Bessa, who was different. But across his long, long life, he had seen many kinds of humans. He hadn’t sought them out, the places he went simply had humans in them sometimes, like rocks or trees or particularly loud birds.

But this man was something else entirely.

His back was straight, but not because he deliberately straightened it. There was an air to him that was both elegant and powerful, yet also cold, with a twinge of something unnameable lurking at the edges.

It could be loneliness the same way it could be madness.

Then he heard Bessa and the other man beside her call him "Your Majesty."

That was how he found out that this very man was the newly crowned Emperor of Iondora.

The Emperor. Of the entire empire. Standing in front of Bessa’s crooked little cottage like he owned the place—which, technically, he did.

The whole empire was his. Including this patch of dirt. Arguably including the woman standing in front of it.

This baffled Jenggala. Why would Bessa come out of the palace and return home with the Emperor in tow? Why was he here, in her space, looking at her with those calm, proprietary eyes? Why did she look so... pretty?

Jenggala shook his head, trying to clear his head.

He landed discreetly between the trees behind the treeline and, with his superior hearing, listened to everything.

"There’s an empty courtyard in the palace grounds as vast as this area, from that treeline to the end of that road," unprovokedly, the Emperor said.

Suddenly, irritation burned in Jenggala’s chest, hotter than wrath.

What? All the jungles in this world were his if he ever claimed them, and he never boasted about it. Not once!

Was it because this man was an emperor? Preposterous! Arrogant! The audacity of this human, waving his palace courtyards around like they meant something!

But then the next line came, and Jenggala froze.

"If you want to uproot every single tree in those treelines to replicate what’s here in that courtyard, it will be nicer for the atmosphere. We can also disassemble the cottage and rebuild it there."

...?!

This man—!

Now the preamble of wrath, the irritation, transformed completely into its final form.

Did he just say he dared to move her cherished life and lock it deep in the palace? Did he think he could take the trees and the cottage and transplant it like a potted plan—?

Then Jenggala saw the Emperor pause, catching the look on the other two’s faces. And what he said next shocked Jenggala even more.

"Of course, I’m sorry. I forgot. The soil too should be brought along."

The wrath vanished.

"You’re a farmer and a gardener. You must have cultivated the soil here to your plants’ requirements for years. I should have been more thoughtful when speaking. Forgive me, my Lady."

And in the place of wrath was confusion.

He... wanted to go that far? Why? What... what was their relationship?

Immediately, a foreboding sense of danger drenched Jenggala like torrential rain.

He saw Bessa’s face, and it struck him right in the chest.

She was as shocked as he was. But also... touched. She was moved, incredibly so. Her eyes followed the Emperor as he walked further, muttering to himself.

"How deep should we take the soil...?"

Jenggala heard his mutters, and rather than arrogance or stubbornness, they sounded like... sincerity. Genuine, pondering, thoughtful sincerity.

What...

Jenggala fell into deep thought. Was moving her whole life into the palace grounds something Bessa would be thankful for? That didn’t seem to be the case two or three days ago.

Something had changed after she went to the palace. And that something had probably changed her life.

She was wearing those clothes now. Compared to the simple garments she wore before, they were arguably much, much better.

Jenggala too, if he had the chance, would like to dress her the same way—Huh?

He... wanted to?

...No, of course he wanted to. Bessa was his good friend. Wasn’t that also the reason he felt so jealous seeing the handsome Alchemist Dean?

This Emperor was even more handsome than that Alchemist, so he should have been even more precious to befriend, right? Not to mention, he was the Emperor.

But... it didn’t look like the Emperor and Bessa wanted to be "friends." He was the Emperor, after all. Something else must be the reason.

He watched as they entered the cottage, and thankfully, Jenggala could see into Bessa’s house through the big wooden window she had opened to air the room.

The Emperor sat in her living room, and to his right sat the older man.

Then Bessa served tea, and they chatted.

"What tea is this? I’ve never..."

"Mushroom and root tea? This is delightful."

Jenggala flinched. Mushroom? Root? Those were the things she had gathered the second-to-last time they were flying to the other side of the world! Together!

With him!

"Yes," Bessa smiled. Through the window, from his hiding spot beyond the treeline, Jenggala could see a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "I recently got my hands on these rare ingredients thanks to an exalted person."

Ah.

Jenggala was pleased.

She remembered who she was with when gathering those ingredients. Him! The exalted person! The one she had flown across the sky with, laughing among the sea lavender!

"Then you should have enjoyed it with this exalted person," the Emperor said gently.

Though for some reasons he didn’t like it, Jenggala found himself agreeing with the man.

She should have enjoyed it with him, Jenggala, not this Emperor!

"He must have been someone with an esteemed palate. I didn’t dare," Bessa admitted.

Jenggala’s eyes widened.

Esteemed palate?! What?!

He was someone who ate monsters and animals raw in the jungle! He’d eat a rock if it looked at him wrong! Esteemed palate, his tail!

"But you served it to me?"

The Emperor’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Jenggala bristled again. Who did this man think he was? Just a human emperor! How dare he—

Bessa blinked, floundering. "I-I didn’t mean that you’re not exalted or esteemed or anything! I-I’m just... Just..."

She stumbled over her words, and Jenggala’s anger burned on her behalf.

But then the Emperor said nothing more. And from this angle, through the window, Jenggala couldn’t see his expression. He could only see Bessa, who suddenly blushed even redder. Deeply, helplessly red.

Crack—

Jenggala heard it.

The sound of a crack forming in his heart.

He couldn’t stop himself. As if he was drunk—no, as if in a trance, he walked toward the cottage door, eyes filled with red.

He didn’t even realize his feet were moving. The world narrowed to the rough wood of the door, the sound of his own heartbeat and the thing akin to a molten iron coursing through his veins that had possessed him.

He only came to his senses when the door opened, and the full, transformed beauty of Bessa hit him directly in the brain.

"...my Lord?"

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