The face that had been staring fixedly at the paw pads crumpled into a scowl. Useless for delicate work, but when it came to landing little paw smacks, Mio was more confident in his accuracy than any robot. His mood plummeted in an instant, and Chae Mio needed something to take it out on. A sharp set of claws shot out from the raised front paw with a quick shick, and he proceeded to assault Yu Cheongmyeong’s phone with reckless abandon.
Tap tap tap tap tap!
Thanks to one sulky cat’s venting session, the screen flickered off and back on, and the innocent phone was shoved all the way to the edge of the bed. Right around the time the endless tok tok tok of claws against gorilla glass filled the room, Mio discovered something new beneath the scratched-up surface.
A camera!
From inside the phone appeared a kitten — white between the muzzle and brow, with warm gray fur on top of the head and at the tips of the ears. A vivid pink triangular nose that stood out against bright green eyes. The eyes on the screen blinked slowly. It was the first time Mio had seen his own face in all these past few days.
So this is what I look like.
A little cute, maybe. Given that Yu Cheongmyeong had been chanting cute at him like a mantra all day long, had he become some kind of exceptionally, remarkably cute cat? He was leaning in toward the screen, bringing his face closer — paw lowering — just at that moment.
Click—!
The loud shutter sound that flashed across the screen startled him so badly his body shot straight up into the air.
Click—! It went off a second time. At the same moment, the door opened. Cheongmyeong, hair damp at the tips, caught sight of his cat leaping through the air like a flying fish and crossed to the bedside in an instant to scoop him up.
“May! What were you doing?”
What was I doing. Trying to make a run for it. Didn’t work out. Keeping his mouth shut with a sullen expression, Cheongmyeong’s attention naturally shifted from the grumpy cat to the phone lying face-up on the bed, pointed at the ceiling.
“You touched my phone? Smart girl. This is why early education matters.”
Unlike Mio, who struggled just to press a single number, Cheongmyeong unlocked the phone with easy, practiced speed. Even through hazy cat eyes, the thin scratch marks streaked across the screen under the fluorescent light were visible.
He’d seen the scratches and hadn’t said a word. He was keeping quiet so he wouldn’t get scolded. Quick on the uptake, at least. Getting clawed did hurt, after all.
“What’s this. She took a selfie. My cat?”
You’re joking. He opened the gallery and let out a genuinely stunned sound as he looked at the screen.
Through the streaked vertical scratches, the screen was filled with a cat muzzle thrust close to the lens — and two bright, glittering green eyes. He swiped to the next photo. It was practically a work of art.
The frame held nothing but a plain white ceiling and one tiny pom-pom of fur suspended in midair, four pink paw pads dotting the screen like small, perfect stamps.
“So cute. How can you be this cute?”
“Mya-ang.”
Unable to help himself, Cheongmyeong pressed a series of kisses to the cat’s cheek and the area around its temple. Mio had been willing to tolerate it once — but Cheongmyeong caught a glimpse of Mio’s pinched, scowling face and kissed him again without a shred of hesitation. Mio rumbled a low, displeased sound in his throat, and Cheongmyeong babbled on.
“Why do you hate it? You’re the one who was cute first.”
Mio tuned out the man’s nonsense.
When would he be able to escape. The few minutes Cheongmyeong spends in the bathroom aren’t nearly enough. Do I have to wait for him to go out? I’ll put up with the kissing for now. No choice. If you want to do something big, you have to know when to hold still.
“Cutie-patootie.”
The deep voice produced a word that sent a vague prickle of second-hand embarrassment through him. At the same moment, Mio exhaled something like a sigh inside himself. Good grief. How long am I going to have to live like this.
Yu Cheongmyeong’s daily routine was, to put it plainly, the very picture of inconsistency. The time he woke up, the time he went to sleep — even the time he left for work — had no pattern whatsoever. The refrigerator that had held nothing but alcohol and water now had a dedicated spot for wet food cans, and the freezer was stocked with dry cat kibble.
On top of that, the apartment was always spotless, yet whenever Mio was rolling around under the sofa, Cheongmyeong would compulsively drag a finger across the floor. Checking for dust. Mio himself was the type to roll around with cat friends in places thickly coated with dusty grime until his white belly turned gray, so Cheongmyeong just struck him as unnecessarily fussy.
Three days of imperial confinement in the home of an NIS agent obsessed with cleaning. Not a single step of progress toward the great undertaking of escape. Slipping out while he was away was also impossible. How on earth is a cat that doesn’t even weigh a kilogram supposed to open the front door? Unlike Mio’s own home, the windows here opened to nothing but sky — the only way out was the front door.
For such an empty apartment, there was no shortage of temptation. Twenty-one-year-old Chae Mio had gotten himself so thoroughly absorbed in the pink feather wand in the alpha’s hand that he’d ended up gasping and panting with exertion — and felt the shame of it only afterward. When that humiliation drove him to crawl under the sofa in search of some solitude, a red laser would appear from somewhere and he’d be sprinting after that dot of light like a maniac all over again.
Even when he was using the litter box, Cheongmyeong would sit right in front of him and stare. Even when he crept under the sofa or the dining table to hide, the man would somehow find him every time and grab hold of him in one swoop.
For these past few days, Mio had been forcibly turned into an attachment doll, trapped inside Cheongmyeong’s hands. The man followed him everywhere without giving him a single moment’s gap — it was enough to drive him absolutely mad. If he could only speak, he would have screamed at him to get lost.
As time went on, he grew more and more despondent — not only was he trapped inside this apartment, but he felt toyed with, entirely at the mercy of the owner of it. I’m not actually a cat…….
Nothing to show for it, day after day of pure wretchedness. The one thing he had managed to learn, if it could be called that, was Yu Cheongmyeong’s pheromone. He’d figured out the identity of that bewitching pheromone scent.
Catnip.
Not the owner’s pheromone — actual, physical catnip, wrapped in clear plastic inside a shopping bag Cheongmyeong had brought home. Inside, cat treats, several toys, and a row of wet food cans were all lined up neatly alongside it. He pulled the catnip out first and unwrapped the packaging.
Sunlight fell diagonally across Mio’s small body where he lay sprawled on the floor, warming exactly half of him. The back of Cheongmyeong’s hand tickled across the top of his head.
“Smell it.”
Too much effort. Drowsiness had overtaken him and he had no strength to move. When it was held right up to his face, he had no choice but to lean in slightly.
He gave it a sniff — and his head grew a little hazy, and his heavy body felt the faintest sensation of lifting off the ground. But then his feet were on the ground again just as quickly. A vague, inconclusive feeling.
What mattered more to Mio was something else. This fragrant, living-grass smell — like roots pushed deep into wet earth — was somehow familiar. His eyes drifted slowly upward toward Cheongmyeong.
This — this is your scent, isn’t it?
His pupils dilated wide with the joy of a new answer found, but the body-twisting, rolling-around reaction that other cats displayed did not follow. Cheongmyeong looked mildly disappointed and pressed a finger into Mio’s plump cheek.
“No reaction.”
He bought it for me, so maybe I should react a little more. He sniffed again — but it still hovered right there, right at the edge of feeling good without quite crossing over. A teasing, unresolved sensation.
It must be because I’ve been around Yu Cheongmyeong, who has a similar scent, long enough to build up a tolerance. Somehow, the idea of being a magnificent cat who had even overcome the temptation of catnip filled him with pride. Mio purred, drunk on his own greatness.
“It’s working? Is our kitty happy?”
Yu Cheongmyeong grew happy alongside the cat’s self-satisfaction. Cheongmyeong loves May. That was the next thing Mio had figured out, after the identity of his pheromone.
“Time to eat, May.”
Cheongmyeong had slipped out for work in the early hours of the morning while Mio was still asleep. Mio had stuffed the bed and the little teepee tent full of toys and was himself sprawled belly-up on the sofa, fast asleep. He stirred awake at the sound of the door lock and blinked up at Cheongmyeong. His vision was blurry; he couldn’t make out anything. He kept his focus trained on his ears — and then Cheongmyeong came closer and gave Mio’s backside a gentle pat pat.
“You didn’t eat again.”
Cheongmyeong scooped Mio up and set him down in front of the food bowl and water dish, clucking his tongue. Mio dozed in the warm palm of his hand, then opened his tiny mouth wide in a yawn. At that exact moment, Cheongmyeong immediately grabbed a piece of kibble and tried to pop it into Mio’s open mouth. Mio whipped his head to the side with quick reflexes. The kibble landed on his cheek instead of his mouth and fell to the floor, and Cheongmyeong let out a sigh.
“Why do you keep being stubborn about it. If you don’t eat, you’re the one who goes hungry, not me.”
His face, however, told a different story — it was etched with worry. Whenever Cheongmyeong so much as mentioned the vet, Mio would bolt and hide. He picked and chose which treats he’d accept. He refused to touch the kibble at all. What else could the man do.
“You have to eat your kibble too. Baby…….”
A buzz went off from inside Cheongmyeong’s jacket pocket. Mio seized the opening and put all his strength into his back legs to wriggle free of the man’s grip — but it was a wasted effort. Cheongmyeong readjusted his hold on the tiny cat and took the call with one hand.
“Oh, Mom. I was just getting ready to head to work. Breakfast?”
He’s talking to his mother. Of course he’d have parents who raised him — and yet, somehow, Yu Cheongmyeong as a person felt like he’d dropped straight out of the sky, which made the word Mom coming out of his mouth feel remarkably foreign. Mio wrapped his tail between his legs and turned his ears toward the conversation.
“Mm… so. What? Noona?”
The smile dropped from his face without warning.
“Why did she do that. Why would you give the factory manager money. Of course it’s a bribe. Even thirty million, not three hundred — it’s still a bribe. Ha…….”
Something must have happened. His voice had dropped low, and there was a faint undercurrent of anger. He bowed his head, and even as the cat stared at him with unblinking eyes, he quickly looked away. Through the receiver came the sound of an older woman’s voice.
— They said working and keeping busy gives you a sense of accomplishment, so I thought it would help her……
“Mom, Noona…… it’s hard for her to get better at this point. She’s thirty-three.”
— You never know, though. Was your sister not smart? When your father was alive, he was always saying she’d become someone great — he never tired of saying it.
“……For now, she won’t have living expenses, so I’ll transfer three hundred more. It’s fine. And next time……. Tell me first. I’ll find her a job.”
Cheongmyeong’s fingers gently stroked upward between Mio’s brows. It kept making his eyes fall shut on their own, making it difficult to observe the man’s expression. Mio twisted his neck trying to dodge the stroking hand — then changed his mind. He didn’t need to see his face. The voice alone, different from its usual tone, was enough to tell him. Even Yu Cheongmyeong had a loneliness he’d never been able to outrun, no matter how far he’d traveled through his life.
