The Day My Precious Dog Became Human
I used to live like a total loner. Then I got a dog.
The cutest, most precious thing in the world—my very own puppy.
"Master! Master!"
"I'm hungry! Feed me, please!"
And then one day, he turned into a human.
(The cover was made with AI.)
Regarding the Case of a Pet Dog Becoming Human
My name is Lee Seung-ho. I'm twenty-eight years old this year, and I work as a game planner at a mid-sized company in Seoul. Or at least, that's what it says on my business card.
But if you asked me what I actually do, I'd probably just mumble something vague and look away. The truth is, I spend most of my time staring at a monitor, fiddling with numbers that no one will ever care about, and occasionally getting chewed out by the director during meetings.
It's not that I hate my job. It's just... nothing about it feels particularly meaningful. Every day is the same. Wake up, go to work, come home, eat something simple, and fall asleep. Rinse and repeat.
I don't have any close friends. The few college buddies I used to hang out with have all gotten married or moved away, and the relationships that remain are nothing more than polite texts once or twice a year. My family? My parents passed away early, and I don't have any siblings. So yeah, I'm basically alone.
That's why I got a dog.
It was about two years ago. I was walking home late one night after another soul-crushing overtime shift when I saw a tiny, trembling ball of fur huddled under a streetlight. A puppy. Probably abandoned. His ribs were showing, and his eyes were so big and scared that something inside me just... broke.
I didn't even think about it. I scooped him up, took him home, and that was that.
I named him Baek-gu. Whitey. Because his fur was pure white, like fresh snow. He was a mixed breed—mostly Jindo, I think—with a fluffy tail that curled up like a question mark. From the very first day, he followed me everywhere. When I sat on the couch, he'd jump up and curl into my lap. When I worked at my desk, he'd lie at my feet. And every time I came home, no matter how late, he'd go absolutely crazy with joy, barking and spinning in circles like I'd been gone for years.
He was the first living thing that ever looked at me like I was his entire world.
"Baek-gu, I'm home."
Even now, just thinking about it makes my chest feel warm. I'd open the door and there he'd be, tail wagging so hard his whole body shook. Those bright, clever eyes. That little pink tongue. The way he'd press his warm body against my leg and look up at me like, Finally, you're back. I missed you so much.
Baek-gu healed me. Bit by bit.
I started coming home earlier. I learned how to cook simple meals instead of surviving on instant ramen. I even started going for walks in the park near our apartment just so he could run around and chase leaves. For the first time in my life, I had someone who depended on me. Someone who loved me unconditionally.
He was my reason to keep going.
But then...
One ordinary Tuesday morning, everything changed.
I woke up to the sound of someone crying.
At first I thought it was a dream. I live alone—well, alone except for Baek-gu—and the only sounds in my apartment are usually the hum of the fridge or the occasional bark. But this was different. It was a human voice. Soft, confused, and heartbreakingly sad.
I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. The crying was coming from the living room. My heart started pounding. Did someone break in? But why would a burglar be crying?
Grabbing the baseball bat I kept under my bed (a sad bachelor’s version of home security), I crept down the hallway. The door to the living room was slightly ajar. I took a deep breath and pushed it open.
What I saw made me drop the bat with a loud clatter.
There, sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by the shredded remains of what used to be my favorite blanket, was a young man. Completely naked. His silver-white hair fell messily over his face, and his shoulders were shaking as he sobbed quietly. He looked to be in his early twenties, with pale, flawless skin and long, elegant limbs. Even in his distressed state, he was strikingly beautiful—like someone who’d stepped out of a painting.
But that wasn’t what made my brain short-circuit.
It was his eyes.
When he lifted his head and looked at me, those eyes—those huge, familiar, amber-colored eyes—were exactly the same as Baek-gu’s.
"...Master?"
His voice was hoarse from crying, but there was no mistaking it. That tone. That way of saying "Master" like it was the most natural, important word in the world. It was the same voice I’d heard every single day for the past two years. The same voice that used to yip and bark at me when he wanted treats.
My legs gave out. I sank to the floor, staring at him in complete disbelief.
"B... Baek-gu?"
He sniffled, wiping his tears with the back of his hand in a gesture that was so dog-like it hurt. Then he nodded, slow and hesitant, like he was afraid I might yell at him.
"Yes... it's me. I... I don't know what happened. I just woke up like this. My body feels weird. And cold. And... and I have hands now. Look."
He held up his hands—long, slender fingers trembling slightly—and stared at them like they were alien objects. Then he looked back at me, eyes wide and glistening with fresh tears.
"Master, I'm scared. What if I'm broken? What if you don't want me anymore like this?"
My heart shattered into a million pieces right then and there.
I crawled forward without thinking and pulled him into my arms. His body was warm—much warmer than a human should be, actually—and he smelled faintly of the dog shampoo I always used on him. He stiffened for a second, then melted against me with a broken little sob, burying his face in my shoulder.
"It's okay," I whispered, my voice cracking. "It's okay, Baek-gu. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
His arms—those new, unfamiliar arms—wrapped around my waist like he was afraid I'd disappear. He was shaking so hard I could feel it in my bones.
"I was so lonely without you... I waited all night like always, but then my body started hurting and everything went white and... and now I'm like this. I don't know how to be human, Master. I only know how to be your dog."
I held him tighter, stroking his soft white hair the same way I used to scratch behind his ears. He made a small, contented sound that was half sob, half happy whine. It was the most surreal moment of my entire life.
My dog had become a person.
And somehow, impossibly, he was still my Baek-gu.
I had no idea what to do. How does someone even begin to process something like this? Should I call a doctor? A vet? The government? Was this some kind of miracle? A curse? A fever dream?
But as Baek-gu clung to me, crying softly into my shirt, one thing became crystal clear.
Whatever had happened, whatever this new reality was...
I wasn't going to let him face it alone.
He was still my precious dog. My family. My reason for waking up every morning.
Human or not, that would never change.
To be continued...