The Adorkable Octopus's Rules for Love - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Oi! Oi! Look at me! Look at me! Does anyone need a super useful Little Octopus?!”

I turned toward the voice.

Not far away, inside the aerated tank at a fish stall, a tiny goose-yellow thing was bouncing up and down.

It was probably some variant of a dumbo octopus: big head, short tentacles, and two little ear-like fins on top that flapped and flapped. At first glance, it looked like a ping-pong ball that could fly.

When it saw someone coming over, the Little Octopus grew wildly excited and pressed itself tight against the glass, its eight chubby tentacles squished flat.

“You! You can hear me talking!”

Hearing an octopus talk might not be all that strange.

The world was full of wonders. If you could run into a client who forced you to revise a draft thirty times only to choose the first version in the end, why couldn’t you run into a talking octopus?

If anything, the former was more absurd.

“You! Take me with you!”

The Little Octopus looked at me and turned a vivid orange-red.

Cute.

So I asked this bubble-blowing, deranged little sugar tangerine, “There are so many fish in this market. What’s the benefit of taking you?”

The Little Octopus thought for a while, floated up to the surface, and stretched all eight little tips of its tentacles toward my finger with all its might.

“You won’t lose out! My head is big! I have lots of little arms! I’m hardworking and brave and never back down!”

“That’s not enough.”

“And… and!”

The Little Octopus tried hard to think, its stubby little tentacles knotting together.

“I… can cook meals that warm your heart! And I can turn into a super handsome guy!”

A super handsome guy? That was acceptable.

My thoughts took a slightly dirty turn. I raised my hand and called to the fish stall owner.

“Uncle! How much is this little booger per pound?”

Chapter 2

I sobered up.

My face was blank as I stared at the strange creature on the table.

Sweet merciful heavens. I thought the talking octopus had been a drunken hallucination.

Work had been extremely stressful lately. At a business dinner, I’d mixed red wine and baijiu and drank nearly a pound in total.

When I got drunk, I could still move around just fine. The only issue was that everything in front of me turned into bizarre, dazzling hallucinations, and anything I looked at would greet me twice.

I’d assumed the Little Octopus was no exception.

And yet, here it was.

In my home, on my dining table, absolutely demolishing roast chicken.

“Hey… Little Octopus…”

“Hey… stop eating!”

It had eaten at least a hundred!

“Hey…!”

After swallowing the last drumstick, the Little Octopus finally lifted its head in a daze.

“Hey… hey what? More roast chicken?”

I grabbed the greasy little suspect in this food-crime case.

“More roast chicken? You look like roast chicken! You’ve nearly eaten every chicken within ten miles!”

The moment it heard the words “eaten every,” the Little Octopus instantly shriveled up, turning into a limp little piece of seaweed.

I plucked up the little seaweed.

“What exactly… are you?”