Dorjelang/Story

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Dream-Collecting Journey in the Mountains

Bond	Lv. 2	Reward	Dough ×100

This was Dorjelang's fifth year as a hat-making apprentice.

By the window, he studied the two fabric flowers in his hands with quiet intensity, weighing which one would better suit a hat meant to welcome the spring.

Suddenly, a cry for help rang out from a senior apprentice in the courtyard. A harsh gust of wind had swept the drying materials into a chaotic, tumbling flurry. With a thunderous rumble of footsteps, Dorjelang charged out. His colossal frame seemed to blot out the sun as he dashed across the yard, scooping every last stray piece into his arms in one swift rush.

---

Just as he finished, a passing senior, buried beneath a stack of fresh fabric, casually hollered for Dorjelang to help carry the load. The cook followed, smiling as she hooked two buckets of sweet soup onto his arms for a quick delivery to the canteen. Dorjelang nodded solemnly at every request, yet a glint in his eyes betrayed a secret pride. It was clear he relished the weight of such responsibilities.

Up on the rooftop, Master Mufflin was snacking on roasted silkworm cocoons. Watching the big oaf dash back and forth across the yard, she clicked her tongue in irritation and stripped the skewer clean in one bite. Flick. The skewer shot forward and struck Dorjelang squarely in the back before bouncing away. He scratched the spot in confusion, then tilted his head up toward the rooftop.

---

Shortly after, Dorjelang sat obediently by the rooftop grill, his limbs tucked in. Across from him, Master Mufflin stood with her arms crossed, glaring down at her student. "How long have you been my student?" she demanded. But before he could answer, she jabbed a finger at his nose. "Five years! It's about time you graduated!"

Dorjelang didn't respond. His expression stayed grave as he sank into thought, and, as always, an awkward silence stretched between them.

---

Unable to bear it any longer, Mufflin hopped down from the parapet in frustration. On the ground, she stood a full five heads shorter than him, yet her sharp, rapid-fire scolding gave her an almost towering presence. She launched into a tirade, rattling off every misstep of his apprenticeship, from the six times he had smashed into walls over the past five years to the overly neat pile of yarn from the night before.

"You're a hatmaker! Stop wasting your time on trivial things, and go think about why we make hats!"

Dorjelang scratched his head sheepishly and nodded, which only irritated his master further, her white feather scarf slipping askew.

---

Dorjelang had once been small and fragile, the kind who stayed tucked behind others, always in need of protection. But everyone in the workshop had seen him, without meaning to, snap table legs, crush teacups, and crack plates... so they could only assume the gentle giant had been far too modest about his strength.

To Dorjelang, being able to use that strength to help those weaker than himself was a kind of luck he held dear. It had nothing to do with meeting anyone's expectations. It simply meant that when he wanted to help, he could. Master Mufflin, however, insisted he had yet to understand.

She watched him as he left and remembered how her bright-eyed student dug her out of a pile of magazines in the basement five years ago... No, scratch that part. She had been standing atop that very pile, arms folded, quizzing him on hats, while he answered every question with ease. Learning on his own, in secret? How dare he?! In her irritation, she leapt down and twisted her ankle... No, scratch that part too. By the magazine pile, Dorjelang had been weaving with reeds, recreating every hat on those pages. The audacity to learn in secret... She turned away with a scowl.

Even so, Dorjelang had earned approval with a "Be here at eight tomorrow morning." For him, it brought a different kind of joy and anticipation, something he didn't feel when helping others.

Five years had passed since Dorjelang became a hat-making apprentice. On this day, he chose a dandelion to adorn the hat meant to welcome spring. With his new kit slung over his back, he set out once more. He still dreamed of the past — of jagged mountain paths strewn with stone, of snow and forests, of winds that never ceased, and of foxtail grass swaying gently in their wake.

The dandelion lifted in the breeze and drifted toward distant mountains, as if gathering those dreams. He wondered who it would stir awake this time.

The World Outside the Hat

Bond	Lv. 4	Reward	Dough ×200

It was Dorjelang's first day at the Galactic Bazaar.

All his life, he had felt adrift in a vast sea of people — without direction, without a place to belong.

After hauling five boxes of goods for a shopkeeper at the street corner, it suddenly occurred to him that everyone here was so small, and he was incredibly strong in comparison... Maybe... I can actually help them?

The revelation filled him with unprecedented joy and the urge to act, but he must stay calm. A slight turn of his body was enough to send someone flying... Mmmooo? Wasn't someone here just now?

After eight victims, six cracked chairs, four shattered steps, and three flattened billboards, all eyes were trained on him with terror.

He spent all his money making amends, then hurried through every intersection, anxiously avoiding anyone who came too close. Finally, he found a quiet corner to settle in. Crouching down, he took a deep breath and reminded himself to exercise more self-restraint.

When he lifted his head again, he realized he was at a high point in the bazaar. Following the sound of music, he saw cheerful crowds, lively stages, and a shimmering magician's tent below...

---

---

This place probably isn't right for him... Dorjelang scratched his head nervously and shook it. No, it wasn't about fitting in. He left home to find his buddy and bring him back.

Dorjelang looked at the stage again as another group of laughing performers took their turn. This was the world of dreams and aspirations that his buddy lived in. Would he even want to return with him at all?

Lost in thought, Dorjelang found himself drawn closer to the stage. The mesmerizing lights kept shifting, and no one noticed when one of the light poles started to wobble. He instinctively caught the falling pole, but when he turned around, he saw countless fearful, confused eyes staring at him, as if trying to see right through his otherness.

In this world, he could easily destroy everything with a slight movement of his hand. His turquoise beads, horned barbaric hat, towering build, and thunderous voice... everything about him struck fear in others. He realized then that being powerful and mighty wasn't something to be proud of after all.

---

Frightened by their fear, Dorjelang fled in panic, accidentally bumping into something as he ran... Amidst the rising dust, dizzy and disoriented, Dorjelang saw a massive figure approaching. He could barely contain his excitement at the prospect of meeting someone like himself.

The dust settled, but Dorjelang didn't see anyone. "Tsk! Tsk tsk! Who?! Who broke down the walls of my workshop?..." Dorjelang looked down and saw a little one wearing a white feather scarf. She looked up at him judgingly. "You again?"

---

Dorjelang kept his serious face as he pondered how someone so little could exude such immense presence. The lengthy silence between them irritated the smaller one, and she jumped up and smacked Dorjelang right on his head.

"Who are you trying to bluff with that hat? I'll give you credit for helping with the light pole, but now you've got to pay for my walls!"

The smack snapped Dorjelang out of it. He adjusted his hat and bowed humbly as he patted his chest.

"This is my fault, and I'll take full responsibility!" he said.

This was Dorjelang's first day at the Galactic Bazaar. It was also the day he first met Master Mufflin, and surprisingly, he didn't need to become stronger. He just needed to appear more approachable. That's when he took off the fierce-looking hat of his and changed how he interacted with and saw the world around him, starting with working to pay off the damage he'd caused.

He came here for a reason... but he couldn't remember what.

Dandelions on the Snowy Mountain

Bond	Lv. 6	Reward	Dough ×300

It was the ninth day of Dorjelang's arduous journey across the endless mountains.

He had prepared himself for the inevitable solitude that came with leaving home, but as he woke from a dream, he found a figure basking under the moon.

Doggie, his childhood companion, had secretly followed him. He was grinning and lolling his tongue, as if to say, "Took you long enough to notice me."

The old herders used to tell the story of how a flood once swept little Dorjelang out of the shed where he'd been sunbathing. When they finally found him, Doggie was whimpering, and Dorjelang was crying even louder.

The two little ones had just opened their eyes and were wrestling each other under an ownerless hat. Everyone thought they'd go their separate ways, but some bonds, once formed, could only deepen.

---

As time passed, Dorjelang grew up to be the weakest in the tribe, while Doggie became the alpha of the canines. However, the herders had always suspected that Doggie was actually a grassland wolf.

Whenever Doggie tried to howl, Dorjelang would gently hold his muzzle shut, worried that he might leave with a wolf pack that picked up the call.

Doggie's name was simply Doggie. He stayed by Dorjelang's side through everything like a faithful guardian — herding with him, wrestling with him, accompanying him on pilgrimages to mountain tops... Even now, he wanted to keep Dorjelang company on his journey away from home.

---

Unable to convince Doggie to leave, Dorjelang could only watch as it busied itself with scouting the path ahead, lagging behind, catching up again, and panting breathlessly with stalks of foxtail in its mouth, and even a rabbit... Wait, drop that right now!

Strange, this was supposed to be a journey that took them farther and farther away from home, but with Doggie's company, every day, he felt blessed with luck like all the days before.

Still, danger and uncertainty drew ever closer, and when he picked up the dull cracking sounds echoing through the quiet mountains, he knew an avalanche was coming. By the time he woke up between a slush of mud and snow, he had no idea how long he'd been buried. A wet tongue licked his eyes, blurring the moon in his vision, and under it, he saw Doggie whimpering and digging through the snow.

So the deity has blessed me after all! he thought and smiled, not daring to make a sound for fear of stirring the mountain again.

Doggie had suffered a broken hind leg and a gash on its scalp. Dorjelang applied some medicinal herbs to the wound and grabbed some foxtail to weave a little hat, so as to keep Doggie from scratching its head.

Holding his companion, Dorjelang thought about turning back to their village, but the way back was even longer than continuing forward. Doggie barked furiously in protest, as if to say, "All my work would have been for nothing if you turned back now."

Man and dog then traveled even farther.

---

Deep in the night by a stream, Dorjelang rested his head on his luggage and watched as Doggie snored beside him. He hadn't noticed the whites in its fur before, realizing just how old it had grown.

It's only minor injuries, we'll heal soon. He told himself as he fell asleep.

Wolf howls came to Dorjelang's dreams, and he tried opening his eyes. Unsure if they were actually opened, Dorjelang believed he saw Doggie on a moonlit hill with head raised to the sky. Its graying fur seemed to glow as it let out the longest unfettered cry in its life, and the woods answered with an echoing chorus of wolfsong.

---

When he woke from the dream, the moonlit figure was gone, and next to him, there was only the foxtail hat. His companion had kept watch under the moon, coming and departing in soft silence. No mountains or rivers, nor winds of the highlands could ever scatter the memories of its devoted silhouette. Though years may pass, its form remains, timeless beneath the moonlight's glow. Though the permafrost before dawn may never melt, the warmth in his heart endures.

It was the thirty-ninth day of Dorjelang's arduous journey across the endless mountains. He stood at a station in the Starsea and glanced back at the dawn-gilded peaks of his homeland. He tucked the little foxtail hat into his luggage and moved on.

The boy, once sheltered by so many, had finally made it over the mountains.

Over the Mountain Far From Home

Bond	Lv. 8	Reward	Dough ×400

This was Dorjelang's sixteenth year living on the highland pastures.

Back then, he knew nothing of the world beyond.

Dorjelang was seen as someone who needed protection in his tribe. He thought if he could be a little stronger and a little tougher, put on a stern face and look a little fiercer... then maybe he would actually become more capable. Perhaps due to his frailty, there were many things off-limits to him, like going down to the river, wrestling, or herding alone. Concerned gazes followed him around whenever he tried to get involved. The old herder who tutored him said that his body wasn't as strong because he carried all the good fortune of the highlands on his head, that he was a child blessed by their deity. Whenever they took him out to herd, the wolves would scatter, snowstorms would cease, and blood-sucking insects would disperse.

Dorjelang wanted to believe in it.

---

---

During the ceremonial wrestling match held to honor their deity, Dorjelang sat by the lakeside and watched the spectacle of fervor and power. Out of place and even slightly dissonant with the scene was the low, chanted verses from the herder next to him:

When chaos gave birth to earth and sky, White yak from the lotus did arise, With ears that hear all earthly things, Nose that scents far and wide, Wings to soar o'er mountains and rivers, Hooves to race across plains and fissures, He is the mighty mountain high, He is the gentle flowing stream, He is the father working hard, He is the mother's loving heart, He tames the strong and lifts the meek, His righteous name through ages speak, His legend in our hearts engraved, Through song we sing his ageless praise.

The song spoke of the highland deity. Legend has it that "he" looked just like everyone else in the tribe, with long flowing hair, a strong athletic build, and mighty long horns, and that "he" danced to the heavens and sang for the earth. "Behold, it brings success. Behold, it's filled with fortune. And behold, it possesses the eternal..." Dorjelang caught himself humming along. He glanced at his own reflection in the emerald lake... Me? I look nothing like the deity, moo. A buddy from a neighboring tribe came over. Dorjelang could see his messy hair and his beautiful, sturdy horns that put his own feeble ones to shame. His buddy stroked his chin in deep thought.

---

"They say not to mind what others think, but that's easier said than done. 'Hearing' is a way for us to feel the world," he said. A hat with solid long horns was then placed on Dorjelang's head. "HAHMM! Now you look like a tough guy! Put on the hat, and you can become whoever you want to be. Come on, show us your angry face!" In the lake's reflection, Dorjelang did look quite mighty! And just like that, the kid was fooled by his buddy.

---

The first among them to think of leaving was his buddy. Pulling Dorjelang along, he made grand plans of how he would conquer the endless mountains and see the world beyond in pursuit of his dreams.

Dreams? What are... dreams? Buddies stick together till the end, so you're coming too, Dorjelang.

Dorjelang was worried that he'd hold his buddy back, being as frail as he was. But his friend had unwavering faith in him.

Before they left, his buddy got caught "loaning" a couple of barley buns from an old herder. Dorjelang went for the rescue, but froze at the doorway. "HAHMM? You have no right to keep him on the pastures forever..." On the glimmering highlands where heaven is just a few steps away, too many struggle to make the journey because of a weighted heart. "You've never believed in him. You just think he's weak, and needs protection..." Outside the house, Dorjelang listened as Doggie came over. As always, it sat beside him, panting with a lolling tongue, as if saying, "Eavesdropping too, huh?"

"How long will you deceive him with these words? Are you going to keep sheltering him his whole life?"

Dorjelang gazed up at the sunset's glow, at the deity watching over the highlands.

"There is no divine blessing. He has the same horns and fur on his head as us, plus a yak horn hat that I traded with barley buns..."

Please let all my good fortune rest upon my buddy's head—

"I have my own dreams and my own path to follow, so I won't stay... but save half the barley bun for him. I'm leaving this place..."

May he be safe, free, and prosperous on the journey of his dreams.

This was Dorjelang's sixteenth year living on the highland pastures. In the empty house his buddy left behind, the old herder threw him a bundle of supplies, his mustache bristling with anger. He told Dorjelang to get out there and bring back his good-for-nothing buddy.

Finally, he understood there was a kind of longing in this world that words cannot capture.

He wanted to cross this mountain, and the next one beyond, and countless more after.