[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-saya-and-the-dragon":3,"chapter-saya-and-the-dragon-saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-158":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Saya and the Dragon",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1705145,2177,"Chapter 152: Migwai Situation","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-158",158,"\u003Cp>Rain. Again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I don’t know which god controls the weather, but if I ever meet them, I’m going to slap them with this soggy shawl and ask what exactly theirproblemis.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I trudge up the hill alone, soaked head to toe, dragging penitence behind me like a funeral snail. The Dragon refused to come. Flat-outrefused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not that lunatic again,” he said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He gave us a hallucinated grimoire last time.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He thoughtyouwere a war crime wearing jewelry.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He summonedfootnote maggots.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Which, okay. Fair. But I’m desperate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So here I am. Midnight. Rain. Miserable. Shivering. Wrapped in the same black penitence shroud like a sexy cultist in mourning. I look like a depressed cult recruiter who lost her clipboard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I knock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I knock again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A shuffle. A crash. A muffled \"Maude, I swear if it's another goat—\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then the door creaks open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He peers out. Eyebrows like burnt shrubbery. Beard with its own weather system. Robes askew. Eyes bloodshot and blinking unevenly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sees me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sees the shawl.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sees the rain behind me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sees absolutely nothing else.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gasps.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Death…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blink. “What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’vecome for meat last,” he whispers, clutching the doorframe. “Iknewit. Ifeltit. In me bunions.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Maude warned me! Said the chickens were actin’ funny this morning! Said don’t drink the seventh bottle! Said don’t mix wine with frog balm! But Idid! Ialways do!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m not Death!” I yell. “I’m Saya!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He narrows one eye. Then two. Squints hard enough to rupture a blood vessel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…You sure?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do Ilooklike Death?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You look like Death’sside hustle.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I broughtcookies.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stares. Blinks again. Looks behind me like he’s expecting a scythe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, he opens the door all the way.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Roit,” he mutters. “Get in. But if you’re here to reap me soul, do it quick. I’ve got stew on.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Inside, it’s even worse than last time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There are more jars. More blinking thingsinthe jars. The same goat from last time is back, this time wearing a bonnet. Something on the bookshelf is weeping softly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wizard shuffles over to a table, picks up a teacup, sniffs it, decides it’s too clean, and pours something from a flask labeled“ALMOST DEFINITELY NOT POISON (MAUDE DON’T TOUCH)”into it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stand dripping in the middle of his war crime of a living room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I need help.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He groans. “Oh gods, it’s thescale thingagain, innit?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No. Worse.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turns slowly. “You’re pregnant.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Cursed with twin heads?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You married the Dragon?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shrugs. “Roit. That exhausts me list of horrors.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I step forward, serious now. “I was told… I ate aMigwai.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He freezes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…A what now?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“A Migwai.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turns pale. “You meanMogwai?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s what I said.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You saidMigwai.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Same thing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sets the cup down slowly. “No. Itain’t.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I cross my arms. “So what the hell is it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He scratches his head. “Mogwai’s a… sort of… metaphysical furball, innit? Born of starlight and goat sin. Harmless unless invoked during lunar transitions or consumed during moments of karmic vulnerability.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stare. “That’s not an explanation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Itisif you squint.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So what happens if Iateone?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He goes rigid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh gods.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turns, stumbles toward a book, throws it open. Pages fly. Dust poofs. Something inside it hisses and dies.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Youconsumeda Mogwai? Like... whole?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to! I might’ve! I eat a lot of strange things when I’m drunk or emotional.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He slaps the book shut. Whirls on me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“THERE IS NO CURE!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I jump. “What?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’s pacing now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wildly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Arms flapping like he’s trying to take off or ward off invisible bees.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I throw my hands up. “I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT AMIGWAIIS, LET ALONE WHETHER I ATE ONE!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He freezes. Slowly pivots toward me. One eyebrow lifting like a seesaw of doom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Mogwai,” he whispers. “MOGwai. Stars above, woman, get the pronunciation right before the fluff hears you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ican’t!” I wail. “I don’t even know what itis! How could I have eaten one?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Are ye sure,” he says, leaning in close, “absolutelysureye ate one?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I don’t KNOW!” I say. “The oracle with the gold llamas told me I did! She said maybe it was in this life or maybe in a past one, but the fluff wasdevoured.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He goes sheet-white.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sweat beads.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One eye twitches.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then—\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, no, NO, no, nonono—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He starts pacing again, faster, hands shaking. “THERE IS NO CURE for Mogwai-infested karma! No counter-spell! No ritual! No divine refund!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I don’t even REMEMBER my past incarnations!” I cry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stops just long enough to yell, “That’s because ye were amushroom in five of themand anearthworm in two!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blink. “I’m sorry—WHAT?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He flings his arms skyward. “THAT’S WHY YE DON'T REMEMBER! Mushrooms don’t keep diaries! Earthworms don’t ruminate on existential fluff consumption!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But—HOW,” I sputter, “could I eat a Mogwai as amushroomor anearthworm?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He grabs his head like he’s trying to squeeze clarity out of his skull.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I DON’T KNOW! Maybe someone fed ye to one another! Maybe ye were spiritual compost! Maybe ye absorbed the fluffosmotically!Mogwai are metaphysical! They don’t give a toss about digestive logistics!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I gape at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gapes at me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A jar on the shelf blinks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The goat in the bonnet sneezes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The wizard points at me with trembling fingers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If the oracle said ye ate a Mogwai—past, present, or hypothetical future—then ye DID. An’ now yer karmic ledger is fluff-stained beyond redemption.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That can’t be right,” I whisper. “It’s… ridiculous.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, aye,” he says, nodding rapidly, “ridiculous is exactly where Mogwai thrive. Chaos. Nonsense. Low moral fiber. They LOVE souls like yers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I don’t know whether to cry or hit him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe both.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looks at me with a haunted seriousness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Lass… Mogwai don’t justhappen.They’re attracted to the spiritually… compromised.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I am NOT compromised!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stares.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stare back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The shawl slips off one shoulder dramatically.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He coughs. “Right. Anyway.”\u003C\u002Fp>",968,"2026-06-06T14:39:25.900Z",1,"novelbin.me","b762147fcd070bc5fbbaf950ccc69516e2324721b34e00fcbb90476f6892373a","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-159","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-157",228,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fsaya-and-the-dragon-cover.jpg"]