* * *
“You were really red. Are you okay?”
“Ack…!”
The way Yoontae spoke, his words laced with something beyond simple concern, made Jeongseo jolt violently and pull away.
As a result, Yoontae’s hand naturally fell from him.
Even though it had only brushed against him over his clothes, a chill ran down Jeongseo’s spine, making his legs tingle.
He clenched his lips and shot Yoontae a glare before drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.
It was an unspoken signal: don’t touch me.
But since Yoontae had already crossed the ambiguous line between them, he had no intention of stopping now.
“Don’t run away, Jeongseo.”
The moment Jeongseo pulled back, Yoontae closed the distance, wrapping an arm around him and resting his chin on his shoulder.
The faint scent clinging to Yoontae made Jeongseo’s head feel even more muddled.
Still awkward with the atmosphere, he rolled his eyes and blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“R-Running around in the snow… kind of reminds me of when we were kids. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah. You were really tiny back then.”
Fortunately, Yoontae didn’t seem intent on teasing him further.
Instead, he played along with the conversation. Jeongseo glanced at the footprints scattered across the snow-covered yard and let his thoughts drift back to the past.
“Yeah… Back then, you were so small that I thought you were a cat.”
“I know. Whenever I showed up in human form, you’d call me ‘Kitty.’ That pissed me off so much that I deliberately never told you my name…”
A pointless act of defiance.
Hearing Yoontae mutter distantly, Jeongseo snuck a glance at him.
He had never known that was the reason.
He had simply assumed that, like himself, Yoontae had been taught never to reveal anything to strangers.
So, he had never asked.
If he had asked for Yoontae’s name back then, how would things have turned out?
Maybe, just maybe… if the black cat that had suddenly stopped appearing had left behind a name, he would have remembered it forever.
Yoontae’s name had appeared in online articles and on Motube every now and then.
If he had known it back then, he might have recognized it sooner.
Even though he knew the past couldn’t be changed, Jeongseo kept thinking about what might have been.
While he was lost in thought, Yoontae’s low voice pulled him back to reality.
“I’m not trying to start anything—I’m just really curious, Jeongseo.”
His drifting thoughts snapped back into place.
“Why did you leave without saying anything?”
Jeongseo’s eyelids fluttered slightly.
When he turned to look, Yoontae had already lifted his face from Jeongseo’s shoulder, staring at him with an unreadable expression.
There was no trace of anger or resentment in his face—if anything, his golden eyes looked a little… sad.
When Jeongseo remained silent, Yoontae tilted his head casually.
“I really just want to know. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.”
“N-No! It’s not that, um… Hold on a second!”
Suddenly, Jeongseo sprang to his feet and sprinted toward the storage shed.
A short while later, he returned, carrying a crumpled black plastic bag in his hands.
The bag was so tightly packed and dirty that Yoontae’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Jeongseo untied the knotted bag, revealing a small plastic zipper pouch with a folded piece of paper inside.
The more Yoontae stared at it, the less he understood.
Just as he was about to ask, Jeongseo unfolded the note and held it out.
Kitty, I’m going to the hospital.
I’m a weasel, my name is Seo Jeongseo!!!!!
Wait for me!!!!
If you’re bored, come here.
010-xxxx-xxxx
The messy, uneven handwriting was unmistakably that of a young child who had only recently learned to write.
Yoontae’s pupils trembled slightly.
“I was actually supposed to go to the hospital the day after I saw you,” Jeongseo explained.
“But my mom said there’d be heavy snow, so we had to leave early. I buried the note and left.”
“…You buried it?”
“Yeah, under the tree where we always met.”
Yoontae glanced between Jeongseo and the paper, then let out a quiet, hollow laugh.
So… if he had just found this note…
The day Jeongseo hadn’t shown up, Yoontae had stood under that tree, waiting.
Jeongseo, sensing something was off, hurried to add, “I thought cats had good noses, so I figured you’d find it right away. For a while, I even thought you saw it and just ignored me. I was a little hurt… I never meant to leave without saying anything.”
“That day… it snowed.”
Enough to bury his legs up to mid-calf.
“It really snowed a lot.”
That was why he hadn’t been able to catch a single scent.
The fact that he and Jeongseo had met, that they had been forced to part without knowing why—both had been caused by the heavy snowfall.
The irony made Yoontae chuckle as he carefully folded the note along its creases.
“If I had found this, we might have met again sooner.”
“Yeah… It’s a shame. Maybe I should’ve just tied it to the tree.”
As Jeongseo’s expression darkened with regret, Yoontae ruffled his white hair reassuringly.
Strands fluttered, soft and weightless.
“It’s okay. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.”
Perhaps finding and keeping the most precious thing in his life so easily would have been too convenient.
Maybe the fact that they had to take such a long, winding path to reunite was simply the price he had to pay.
And knowing that Jeongseo hadn’t left without a word, that he had cared—that was enough for Yoontae.
Because it meant their time together had mattered.
Pyo Yoontae remained silent, causing Jeongseo to tilt his head slightly.
He couldn’t understand what Yoontae meant by “of course.”
He waited for Yoontae to continue, but the next words that came out were completely unrelated.
“Give me that note, Jeongseo.”
“The note?”
“It was originally meant for me, wasn’t it?”
Since it wasn’t something he particularly needed to keep, Jeongseo simply nodded as if to say, “Go ahead.”
Yoontae tucked the note into his pocket with an unusually pure smile, as if it held some special significance.
The time had come for Jeongseo to leave the small home he had grown so attached to.
He took in one last view of the place—the old-style house that, despite its worn-out appearance, radiated warmth; the yard, half-covered in cement and half in dirt, feeling somewhat makeshift; and even the now-empty chicken coop tucked into a corner.
Each and every part of this place held dozens of memories.
The house wasn’t being sold, so he could come back if he wanted, but once he started university, that wouldn’t be so easy.
He had always thought he would live here forever.
Though he knew in his head that leaving after high school was inevitable, his heart hadn’t fully accepted it.
His nose tingled, and before he knew it, he was sniffling.
“Baby! It’s time to go!”
His mother called out from beyond the gate.
Even as he forced his reluctant feet forward, Jeongseo kept his gaze fixed on the wooden porch.
It was empty—no one was there.
And yet, he could almost see his grandmother sitting there, as she always had.
“…I’ll be back, Grandma.”
Muttering softly, Jeongseo finally turned away and left the house with the green gate, tucked away in the farthest corner of Dangang County.
He didn’t know what the future held, but he vowed that one day, he would return.
Jeongseo was at his family’s home in Seoul, waiting for his university acceptance results.
He was certain he had passed and would soon be moving out, but that certainty existed only in his own mind.
His parents, unsure of the outcome, had told him to stay home for now.
If he failed, he would have to prepare for another attempt or look into employment instead, and in either case, living at home would be more convenient.
Whether he would stay in a dorm, find his own place, or commute from home was something to decide after the results came out, so he didn’t object.
At first, adjusting to life in Seoul felt strange, but as time passed, he grew used to it.
He now routinely took walks along the river with Seobok, his dog, and met up with Pyo Yoontae.
Yoontae had also been accepted into university and had moved to Seoul.
As Jeongseo jogged lightly with Seobok, he was contemplating what they should do when they met the next day.
Just then, his smartwatch buzzed on his wrist.
It was a graduation and birthday gift from his older brother.
Jeongseo loved how he no longer had to take out his phone every time he got a message.
He swiped the small screen with his finger and checked the notification.
The moment he read it, he froze in place.
* * *
