Chapter 30: A 21st-Century Medical Miracle

Large dogs never have the slightest clue about their own physical size.

When Elia was hit by it, it was no exaggeration to say it felt like being slapped in the face by Superman. After the impact, the culprit just stood there, smiling brightly and saying "hi." Elia calmly pressed a hand against his chest, which had taken the brunt of the collision with the dog’s head, then grabbed the dog’s two front legs to peel off the oversized blanket draped over him. He frowned and scrutinized the creature:

Where on earth did this thing come from?

Although his mind had been drifting just moments ago, his physical reflexes were sharp; his eyes had instinctively captured the trajectory of the Bernese Mountain Dog. If he hadn't seen it wrong, this dog—which stood nearly as tall as an adult human when on its hind legs—had clearly jumped out from "inside" the ceiling. Recalling the image, it felt as though someone had folded a drawing from a sheet of paper into three dimensions, carrying a touch of elusive, fantastical surrealism.

As for the dog in front of Elia, it had absolutely no awareness that it had just nearly committed manslaughter. It sat on Elia’s lap with its chest puffed out, its two massive, pitch-black ears hanging down on either side. Its dark, soulful eyes gazed at him with fervent devotion, and the yellow fur on its cheeks swept upward, revealing an innocent, naive smile. The white fur on its chest puffed out like a plush scarf, nearly smothering Elia’s face.

The summer, which hadn't been that hot to begin with, suddenly became a bit more sweltering thanks to this unexpected heater.

Elia finally remembered that he had owned a similar dog before he transmigrated. Of course, keeping a dog in a densely populated metropolis wasn't an easy task. Back then, half of Elia’s energy was spent playing wits with people, and the other half was spent playing wits with his dog; in a sense, the mental exhaustion from both was no different.

But he was, indeed, a "dog person."

When a human lacks confidence in their social skills with their own kind, it is inevitable that they will seek emotional solace elsewhere. Elia never took the initiative to greet strangers on the street (as many metropolitan residents might do), but he would occasionally chat with the stray dogs he encountered. As for why he would chat with dogs outside when he already had one at home—perhaps it was simply because the "wild flowers" were destined to be more fragrant than the ones at home.

So, even though this Bernese Mountain Dog had appeared in such an inexplicable manner, Elia couldn't help but stroke the fur on its back.

Then, the terrifying thing happened.

The dog opened its mouth and spoke in a human voice, its tone deep and resonant like the Book of Destiny: "See? I told you I'm the boss's favorite."

Before Elia could react, another slightly different voice chimed in with a questioning tone: "Why? The boss only petted you because the color you were assigned today just happens to be black, and black is the most prominent color on a Bernese Mountain Dog. If we had turned into a Beagle, things might be very different. Bob, what do you think?"

A third voice squeezed out from the dog's throat. In these few short moments, it had already cycled through three expressions, appearing like a patient with multiple personality disorder talking to themselves—if dogs could have mental illnesses, that is.

"I don't have any thoughts."

It sounded listless and unenthusiastic.

A foreboding association stirred in Elia’s mind. He remembered the three-headed dog that appeared when he used the Yellow Power Ring.

Out of caution, he pulled his hand back from the large dog’s back, slid his legs out from under its bottom, and asked sternly: "Who are you?"

The Bernese Mountain Dog looked at him in dismay. After a moment, its black eyes filled with tears: "Boss, how could you not recognize me? I’m Bob One, the one you’ve watched grow up since I was a pup. Of course, there’s also Bob Two and Bob Three; after all, I have three heads in total."

It leaned in, trying to nudge Elia’s chest with its head. Elia struggled to dodge, and finding he couldn't, he used his hands to push the creature’s warm, giant head away, saying coldly: "That trick doesn't work on me."

The dog looked even more surprised: "How can that be? Bob, Bob! Look, the boss has changed! He used to soften up whenever we cried!"

Elia: "..."

Elia said: "Too many people have used that on me recently."

That was all Ophelia’s doing.

A hint of murderous intent flashed across the Bernese Mountain Dog’s angelic face: "Who is it? I'll go take care of them."

It used "them" because it assumed Elia had taken a fancy to some other dog outside.

Elia didn't answer. He stood up, looked at the dog, then at the wall, and asked: "Can you go back?"

One of the dog heads was about to say yes, but the other two stopped it. Bob Two asked cautiously: "Do you have anything you need us to do? We are at your service, Boss."

Elia said: "I need you to lighten my financial burden."

Normally, if one had a stable living environment, money, and free time, keeping a pet was a great way to relieve stress. But Elia only met the first requirement, and he was nowhere near the other two. Furthermore, keeping a dog required a license; though the fee wasn't high, it would be hard for Elia to explain how this dog had appeared out of thin air, not to mention the subsequent costs of keeping it.

Most importantly, he felt that raising two children was already enough to drive him to the brink of a breakdown. Even if he thought dogs were cuter than people, his current chaotic household had no room for another creature that only ate and didn't earn a living.

The three-headed dog, which had somehow gained a body, was even smarter than an ordinary dog. Seeing Elia’s rejection, it seemed panicked. After the three heads—or rather, personalities... dog-sonalities—muttered and communicated in their own way for a while, it suddenly sat down on its haunches in front of Elia.

Just as Elia was about to speak, the Bernese Mountain Dog tucked its ears back, tilted its head at a 45-degree angle, opened its eyes as wide as possible, and let out a sound from its throat that was somewhere between a whimper and a whine: "Awoo."

Elia: "..."

To be honest, puppies doing that kind of move were much more moving, but a large dog... well, large dogs had their own unique charm.

Seeing he didn't react, the Bernese Mountain Dog rolled on the ground to expose its belly, curled up its bamboo-shoot-like paws, and continued to whine while wagging its tail: "Awoooo-wuuu."

Elia wore an expression akin to a toothache, clenching one hand into a fist as if suppressing something. Seeing this, the dog played its trump card: while still exposing its belly, it used its head to nuzzle Elia’s calf, its throat constantly emitting huffing, panting sounds... Finally, Elia knelt on one knee, scratched its chest fur, and asked irritably: "Do you shed?"

"It's fine, Boss!" Bob said happily. "I'll try my best not to shed too much."

...

And so, there was one more dog in the house.

Or rather, Elia had been tracked down by "Elia Esposito's" dog.

Elia asked it a few registration questions, such as "Who are you? Where do you come from?" and the dog answered generously that its name was Bob, a name given by Elia. Although it had three heads, it wasn't the legendary Cerberus; it had some superpowers derived from the Book of Destiny but not many, it needed to eat but didn't eat much (a point Elia doubted), and its advantage was its unwavering loyalty to Elia. It could protect Ophelia or Gale when he wasn't home. Finally, it came from the Life Seminar.

The Life Seminar.

Ever since he transmigrated, this name—mentioned by an obscure company that seemed like a fraud group he had encountered before his arrival—had appeared before him once more. If he hadn't constantly suspected a connection between the Life Seminar, the Book of Destiny, and his own transmigration, he might not have remembered the name after so much had happened.

After a long silence, Elia asked Bob: "What exactly is the Life Seminar?"

The three-headed dog, sitting at his feet with a silly grin, was still just a dog no matter how clever it was. Three cobblers certainly couldn't beat Zhuge Liang; Bob didn't notice the chilling, dangerous atmosphere echoing in the air when Elia asked the question. It thought that as long as Elia didn't kick it out immediately, the crisis was over. So, it answered absentmindedly:

"It's the 'Garden of Forking Paths'."

"The Garden of Forking Paths?"

"Yeah." Bob lay down, rested its heads on Elia’s feet, and yawned; it was getting sleepy. "The Garden of Forking Paths is the Life Seminar, and the Life Seminar is in the Garden of Forking Paths... that's what everyone says. That garden is where you used to live. There’s a huge labyrinth inside, and within the labyrinth, there are countless branching paths. People walking in it are forced to make endless choices, and every choice determines their future. But you haven't gone back to that labyrinth much lately, Boss. I heard others say it's because you don't like it. If you don't like it, why not tear it down? We'd all help... *huff*... *huff*..."

It fell asleep.

Elia’s room now contained a large, bio-electric, self-heating fleece blanket.

Oddly enough, he didn't find Bob noisy. Perhaps it was because it actually didn't like speaking human languages; when pushed to the limit, it would sooner bark "woof woof woof" than say "damn it."

"I'm a dog, after all," Bob had answered when faced with Elia's question. "Speaking foreign languages is difficult for me. It's best to avoid it if I can, you understand?"

...Elia understood perfectly.

Time was tight that night, and there was no time to go out and buy a dog house. He dismantled a sofa cushion and brought it into the room as a temporary home for Bob, so both man and dog could make do for the night. The next day was the weekend, and Elia had to go to work at the Asian supermarket in Chinatown. When he got up in the morning, he found that Gale was still asleep, so he hurriedly introduced the new family member to Ophelia.

Ophelia watched Bob with vigilance.

Bob ignored her, puffed out the white scarf on its chest, and enthusiastically crowded around Elia, helping the human who was preparing breakfast—specifically, whenever Elia finished chopping vegetables and there were any scraps, he would toss them directly into Bob’s mouth. The Bernese Mountain Dog never refused, and caught every piece perfectly. Every time it jumped up, the ears hanging on either side of its head would flap, and the man and dog worked in perfect, tacit harmony.

Ophelia watched silently for a long while and reached a conclusion in her heart: unlike the fool Gale, this was a formidable rival.

But when Elia said he brought the dog home to help relieve Ophelia’s stress from school, the little girl said without hesitation: "Of course, I love dogs the most, Dad."

The adult in the house who truly loved dogs expressed relief at their good relationship, then left for work. Before leaving, Bob skillfully offered its big forehead for Elia to pet. Ophelia was busy washing dishes and didn't manage to get a turn in the front row.