In Search of Freedom
Three days after the seven of them had filmed the video.
Cha Da-jeong was getting ready for work when, out of habit, she opened Myeotube and tapped into the Kwak Suho Channel.
A new video had been uploaded. The instant she saw the thumbnail, the corners of her mouth shot straight to the heavens.
"Oh my. Oh my, oh my. What on earth is this?"
The faces on the thumbnail were unmistakably Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree. And yet they looked like no version of themselves she had ever seen—like a still lifted from some impossibly adorable animated film.
The title was perfect, too.
Cha Da-jeong clicked the video as if she'd been put under a spell.
"Good heavens……"
At that same hour, Jang Sora opened Myeotube as well.
"When's that video going to go up? I hope it goes up soon."
A fond smile spread across her face as she pictured the seven of them fluttering along in the cute little hats and precious vests she had dressed them in.
"Ugh, they were so ridiculously cute."
Remembering a few days ago, Jang Sora gave a tiny shiver through her shoulders. Just thinking about it was enough to drive her out of her mind with how adorable they had been.
She tapped into the Kwak Suho Channel, and the corner of her mouth tugged upward.
"The video's up? But what is this……"
Wearing the same expression Cha Da-jeong had worn, Jang Sora clicked the thumbnail. And in a heartbeat, the video swallowed her whole.
"Whoooo……"
That was the first sound she made after pressing play—and she only made it once the video had already ended. Which meant she had been lost in it, mindlessly, for a full five minutes.
"It was so magical. How are they that stunning?"
They were, without a doubt, the same cats and dogs wearing the hats she had set on their heads and the vests she had wriggled them into.
"I'd gone and put the tinsel on them since we had so much party tinsel lying around anyway."
Christmas was only a month away. Within a few days she had been planning to decorate trees on the first- and second-floor playgrounds and in the third-floor cafeteria, and she had set aside glittering strands of tinsel—short ones, long ones, all of them sparkling. Hoesaegi and Gkamnyangi had found the stuff and brought it over.
To be more precise: Hoesaegi had appeared with a mouthful of glittering tinsel and proceeded to drape it over Gkamnyangi's body. Watching him, Jang Sora had understood at once. They want to wear this.
And that had been that.
"It's definitely the hats I put on them. Definitely the vests I dressed them in. And yet they look magnificent. Magical, even. As expected—our kids are geniuses. Geniuses."
The seven of them had taken such shabby little scraps and worn them as if they were haute couture, and Jang Sora found that extraordinary. Praising the seven on the screen, she hit play again.
The spectacle of them tearing around in a glorious frenzy unfolded exactly as it had a moment before. And yet, somehow, she felt less giddy than she had the first time.
The first viewing had been so magnificent, so cool, so cute, so precious she had thought she might stop breathing. Now another feeling had joined the rest.
Pity. A quiet ache.
She couldn't name it, but a lump had formed in her chest—even though this was a video starring creatures so dazzling, so tiny, so impossibly dear.
The five minutes ended. Jang Sora hit play one more time.
This round, a new emotion arrived: the urge to cheer them on. She wanted to root for those seven. But for what? What, exactly, was she supposed to be cheering?
She started the video again and sank into thought. Why?
The seven in the video were animals who could not possibly have been happier.
"They're warm on a freezing day. They pick out delicious food and eat it. They're being adored. They're so happy—what else is there left to cheer for?"
And then, all at once, a single scene rose up in her mind.
The cats and Kkotnimi appearing before a huddled Sapsaree, treats held in their mouths. Then setting those treats down in front of him.
The ones carrying the snacks had been so dazzling, and the performance itself had been devastatingly good.
Hoesaegi and Gkamnyangi racing in as if in flight, tinsel streaming behind them like beating wings.
From a distance, an adorable little yellow-haired cutie; up close, a cat of devilish charm who would startle you into stumbling backward—Jjaek.
A terrifying pirate who looked ready to empty your wallet—One-eye.
The muscular final-boss reindeer, Kkotnimi, hips swaying as he padded softly over.
And the adorable Christmas-tree fairy, Donggeuli.
"Right. Those six put on a spectacular performance setting treats down in front of Sapsaree. That's when Sapsaree lifted his head a little."
The six of them had not stopped at a single delivery. They kept bringing more. But their performances had been so lavish that she hadn't noticed what they were actually doing. It had simply looked like play.
And all the while, the pile of treats in front of Sapsaree had grown, and grown, and grown.
The moment that thought landed, Jang Sora sprang to her feet.
She gazed at the paused video, her face full of emotion—and then she jumped.
"Oh my, what? I'm late. I'm late!"
She was a full thirty minutes behind her usual schedule. Jang Sora finished getting ready in a blur and bolted for the subway, without so much as opening the cafe she visited every morning out of habit—Gogwi Cafe, short for "Cats Are Cute."
At the very hour Jang Sora was rushing to work, comments were pouring in under a post on Gogwi Cafe.
It was a post about the new video on the Kwak Suho Channel—the same Freedom: In Search of Freedom that Cha Da-jeong and Jang Sora had just watched. The post itself was simple. The comments were multiplying in real time.
Comments were still pouring in, everyone losing their minds over the new video, when a single damp little remark appeared.
It was a short comment, the kind you could have scrolled past. Nobody did.
A friend, a meal, out of nowhere—and yet people started nodding along in the replies.
While the thread was still unspooling, a new post appeared.
It was a post that lined up, almost exactly, with what Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree had been thinking. Comments began raining down on that one, too. Most of them said the same thing: Yeah. I think that's it.
And then, in the middle of the agreement, one comment appeared.
An article had come out about the Animal Protection Act being revised, and the B-roll had shown dogs behind iron bars frantically eating garbage. That was almost certainly what the commenter had seen.
People flocked to the reply thread in a pack, leaving comment after comment of fierce, aching agreement.
And while those replies were still stacking up, another new post went up.
The post that opened with that confession carried a message very close to what Lee Jun himself had been thinking. Before long it had become a popular post, sitting at the top of the board, and a great many members had turned their attention to it.
The hearts of Hoesaegi, Gkamnyangi, and Sapsaree had gotten through.
And it wasn't only happening on Gogwi Cafe. In the Myeotube comments, too, subscribers were cheering them on, and they wanted to donate. A movement to rescue meat-farm dogs was beginning to rise—and at that same moment, Lee Jun was pouring himself into the work of helping them.
Namgoong Hyun was eating on the third floor of Mongmong Animal Hospital.
It was past three in the afternoon—late, by any reasonable measure, for lunch.
From a soup bowl sending up lazy curls of steam, Namgoong Hyun fished out a dumpling and carried it to his mouth. He chewed, clearly enjoying it, and then he spoke.
"This dumpling soup is truly delicious."
Lee Jun, seated across from him and working through his own bowl, looked up.
"Aren't you far too busy, Chairman? It's past three, and you're only now having lunch."
"Haha. Director Lee, you don't seem all that different from me. What were you doing that you're only sitting down to eat now? Well—I suppose I don't need to hear the answer. You were seeing patients or in surgery until this moment, I imagine."
Namgoong Hyun, much like Go Gi-jin, had no reservations whatsoever about answering his own questions.
"Well. Yes."
"I'm the same. Some days I'm idle from morning on. Some days I don't even have time for a sip of water."
"I can see that."
"Anyway—you said you wanted to buy land?"
"Yes. I want to build a kennel."
"A kennel……"
Namgoong Hyun said it, and then he popped another dumpling into his mouth. The way he ate this one was different from before. He was thinking while he chewed.
"Are you perhaps planning to expand Uriteul Shelter?"
So he had been thinking while he ate.
"No. That's not it."
"Ah, I see. I thought that might be the case, since you mentioned land near Uriteul."
"It isn't that I haven't considered it. But if the scale got too large, I think it would be too much for the shelter director."
"Ah. I hadn't thought of that. That could well be. Then why…… if I may ask?"
"I want to make a home for the meat-farm dogs. Even if we rescue them, they need somewhere to go."
"I see. So you plan to rescue those children."
"It's a problem I've been thinking about for a long time. Only now am I thinking of actually putting it into action."
"Only now? This is remarkable work you're doing. Are you looking near Uriteul for the accessibility? Convenient for you to visit, and the animal hospital right next door."
He had read Lee Jun's thoughts exactly.
"Yes. That's why I'm looking in that area. I consider that the best option, but I'll match it to the budget first."
"Practical of you."
"Well. Yes."
"And what budget did you have in mind?"
"I'm thinking around five hundred million won."
"Hmm. Is that the land cost alone? Or does that include constructing the kennel, plus six months to a year of operating expenses?"
At Namgoong Hyun's words, Lee Jun went still for a moment. Is that too little? That's money Kwak Suho and I shook ourselves down to the last coin for—does that mean I have to give up on Namyangju?
He was wondering whether he would have to rebuild the entire plan from scratch when Namgoong Hyun opened his mouth.