A Golden Companion's Last Wish
More things happened before the next stall sale than expected.
Everyone thought Seia had been lost, but in truth she had simply gone out for a little outing. And the one responsible for that was none other than the cheese-colored cat. On top of that, Seia’s debut as a mage had gone smoothly, and above all, the greatest gain had been made.
She had opened her heart to someone other than her father.
It would soon be time to leave for the stall sale, and before that, as always, they needed to prepare tteokbokki for the students finishing school.
If this were a place that specialized in tteokbokki, they would have been making it since morning, but Seona’s Restaurant was different. They soaked the rice cakes well in advance and only cooked them when an order came in. That way, there was never much leftover stock. All they had to do was soak the cakes in water and keep them in the fridge.
‘Still… I wonder where the cat that took Seia went?’
Seong Ye-eun stared at the spot where the cat had disappeared, her expression slightly stiff. She already knew it was no ordinary cat. That meant the person who kept it might have been behind the whole situation. Or maybe not, but there was only one way to find out.
Since her ability wasn’t the kind that allowed taming, she couldn’t sense any trace of magic power from the cat. Still, whoever was on the other end would have checked what happened today. If they had any conscience, they would come looking soon enough.
“So cuuute…”
In the meantime, Seia had brought her eyes level with the cat on the table. Afraid she might hurt it if she petted too roughly, she couldn’t bring herself to stroke it properly. She only brushed it with her fingertips, ever so lightly, as if simply resting her fingers on its fur.
“You really like cats that much?”
While Jungwoo prepared for the evening lunchbox sales, Seong Ye-eun took over the role of conversation partner for Seia. Yuhyeon, being the quiet type, wasn’t one to start friendly chats first. Seong Ye-eun wasn’t much different either—except when it came to Seia.
“Yeees. Kitties are always so cute.”
“What about puppies?”
“Puppies are cute too, but Seia hasn’t seen a real puppy yet.”
“Huh? Really?”
“I’ve seen them on TV, but never a real puppy.”
Most people liked either dogs or cats more than the other, but very few disliked both. Seong Ye-eun liked animals too, though she leaned slightly toward dogs over cats. Maybe that was why she felt a sudden urge to sway Seia toward the dog side. There was something about a puppy wagging its tail and acting all affectionate that cats simply didn’t have.
“Well, stray cats are common, but stray dogs… it’s hard to find them these days.”
“I have a dog.”
At that moment, Yuhyeon’s voice, which had been silent until now, cut in.
“…You do, Yuhyeon?”
“Sabu-nim?!”
At some point, Seia had started calling Yuhyeon “Sabu.” It seemed that while he had been placing his hand on her head and talking earlier, this was what they had discussed.
“I adopted one recently.”
“So that’s the kind of person you are?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Seong Ye-eun, who had been picturing Yuhyeon with a dog in her mind, shook her head. No matter how she tried, the image just didn’t fit.
“No, it’s nothing.”
“When I returned that day, there was no one left.”
The ten-year gap hadn’t only created a difference in time. Everyone who had once been around Yuhyeon had either left or disappeared. That was why he needed someone who wouldn’t leave his side. Someone he couldn’t talk to, but who understood everything else. Someone to feed, to take on walks, to play fetch with.
“What breed is it, by the way?”
“Breed? What’s a breed?”
“Well, you’ve seen cats before, right? They all look a little different.”
“That’s true. Their colors are all different.”
“Want to see? There are different breeds of cats too.”
Seong Ye-eun showed Seia pictures of various cat breeds on her phone. There were hairless cats, long-haired fluffy ones, short-legged cats, and even ones that looked perpetually wronged.
“Wow… they all look so different!”
“Right? Every breed has its own look. It’s the same with dogs.”
“What kind of dog does Sabu-nim have?!”
Both Seong Ye-eun and Seia asked at the same time, but for some reason Yuhyeon didn’t answer right away. Why was he hesitating?
“It’s… a Chihuahua.”
“A Ch-Chihuahua?”
Seong Ye-eun’s surprise came from one simple fact: among dog breeds, Chihuahuas were among the smallest. And yet Yuhyeon, who could be considered one of the largest in human terms, owned a breed that sat at the complete opposite end of the spectrum.
“Pfft…”
“Why are you laughing?”
“It just doesn’t suit you at all.”
“What’s a Chi-wa-wa?”
Chihuahua. It was a word Seia had never heard before. Chi, wa, wa. The string of unfamiliar syllables filled her eyes with curiosity and excitement.
“…If you want to see it, I’ll bring it next time.”
“Really? Promise Seia!”
“Yes. I promise.”
How unlike him. He wasn’t the type to show his face at the guild often, but whenever he did, something always happened. He was someone who had once been strong, someone who had made a name for himself. With a reputation like that, there were always people eager to challenge his authority and fame. And whenever someone crossed the line, Yuhyeon showed no mercy. There had even been cases where people lost their lives because of it, though that was ten years ago. Now that same man was raising a small, precious Chihuahua and had become Seia’s teacher.
“Well then…”
Just as Seong Ye-eun opened her mouth, the bell above the door of Seona’s Restaurant jingled, announcing a visitor. Or perhaps it was less a customer and more someone coming for confession.
“Seo Se-yeon, you…”
“Ah, hello, unni.”
It was the former customer Seia had given the nickname “Cat Sister.”
“Kitty’s here!”
“Haha… hello, Seia.”
Yuhyeon glanced at Seo Se-yeon for a moment before looking away again, his version of a greeting. Seong Ye-eun and Seo Se-yeon shared a small connection. It was a story from quite a while ago.
A few years back, Seong Ye-eun had owned a dog, just as much as she liked them. A Golden Retriever. Gentle despite its large size. She had liked its slightly droopy expression, and it had liked everything and everyone. From the tiny, adorable puppy she first brought home to the fully grown dog it had become, it had been full of mischief, but the kind you could forgive with a single look of affection.
Whenever she went into a gate, it would wait for her. When she returned, it would sit by the door, tail wagging, welcoming her home. Back then, Seong Ye-eun’s personality hadn’t been much different from now. The only difference was whether she had someone to give her love to.
Many people said receiving love was important, and they believed it. But giving love was just as important. Having someone to pour that unconditional love into, even after losing so much, had been the most precious thing in the world to Seong Ye-eun.
At the time, Seo Se-yeon had been an ordinary hunter. She still was, in a way. Her ability to communicate with magic beasts that appeared in gates wasn’t particularly useful. Most of the strong or rare ones could already understand speech. In the end, Seo Se-yeon stopped entering gates and instead sought out beings that ordinary people couldn’t communicate with—pets like dogs and cats. It suited her perfectly, since she had always liked animals anyway.
Using her unique skill, she had helped many animals in the past. If one was sick, she could ask where it hurt. If one carried emotional wounds, she could find out why. Little by little, she built a reputation and earned quite a bit of money. After that, Seo Se-yeon disappeared from public view.
Human emotions weren’t infinite. People could laugh or cry until they collapsed from exhaustion. Even when it came to animals, sharing in their sadness wasn’t always rewarding. No one contacted her with good news. The number of people who reached out only when there was a problem was dozens, hundreds of times greater.
A dog abandoned by its previous owner. A cat that had wandered out and gotten trapped. Sometimes even a cow that didn’t want to be taken to the slaughterhouse, or a horse that longed to run across the plains. Listening to wishes that could never be granted often left her drowning in her own helplessness. It had been her limit. So she ran away from reality, and she had found a rather good hiding place. That life continued. She had no intention of going back, and as time passed, people gradually forgot about her existence.
Then Seong Ye-eun found her. The desperation and anxiety in her eyes that day were still vivid in Seo Se-yeon’s memory. It was a sight she had seen many times before, and each time it hurt just to witness. Because she had seen far too many people like that.
‘Please, please talk to it.’
The plea had been so earnest that Seong Ye-eun had managed to track down someone who had been forgotten after disappearing for so long. Most people who came to her like this had children whose conditions hospitals couldn’t diagnose or had already given up on. So Seo Se-yeon spoke with the dog. The one with long, fluffy golden fur.
“Where does it hurt?”
“……”
The dog didn’t even seem to have the strength to speak. Its eyes alone told the story. It had already crossed a river that could not be returned from. After staying silent for a long time, the dog finally let out a weak whine.
It wanted a snack right now. When Seo Se-yeon said she would bring one, it replied that it wanted the snack its owner usually bought for it.
“It says it wants a snack.”
“A snack?”
“Yes. Does it have a favorite kind?”
“Ah, yes. We’re out right now, but they should have some at the convenience store.”
Seong Ye-eun’s instincts screamed that she couldn’t leave the dog’s side for even a moment. She had to hurry.
“I’ll go get it and come right back.”
“…It’s best not to move it right now.”
“…Understood. I’ll be quick.”
Seong Ye-eun left. What remained were the fading golden fur and Seo Se-yeon. The house was quiet after the owner departed. Voices of other animals could be heard asking if a new friend had arrived, begging for an introduction. Seo Se-yeon forced herself to block her ears. There was only one voice she needed to hear right now.
Not long after the owner left, the dog’s voice came, faint and strained, as if it had used up every last bit of strength. It didn’t want to die. It wanted to live longer. It wanted to go on walks with its owner, even if it meant being scolded for eating too many snacks. It wanted to roll in muddy water right after a bath, to chew on the sofa. It loved the way its owner’s hands stroked its head and body, and falling asleep with its head pressed against theirs on the soft bed. Every moment spent with its owner had been good. There wasn’t a single bad memory. It had wanted to stay by its owner’s side a little longer, even if it couldn’t walk or chew on the sofa anymore, even if it couldn’t roll in mud. It just wanted to be there.
The once-vibrant golden fur lost its light. What little life remained gathered in the dog’s eyes, forming a single tear. As that tear fell, the dog whispered that it had been happy, and closed its eyes.
Seong Ye-eun returned a little later, carrying a bag full of the snacks the dog had always loved.
“Ah, ah…”
The snacks spilled across the floor with a soft thud. If the dog’s final tear had carried the last of its life, then Seong Ye-eun’s love for it had been poured into that single moment. That love had neither diminished nor worn out. Yet now it had lost its way. Nothing was more dangerous than emotions with no direction. Where should they go?
Receiving those lost emotions had once again become Seo Se-yeon’s role. It was simply doing what she had always done. The dog that had crossed the river was no longer the one she had known. It was just a child she had spoken with for a brief moment. In truth, it was no different from a stranger. If she didn’t keep telling herself that, she wouldn’t be able to bear it. Within her finite emotions, the things she had to endure had become strangely infinite.
“…It’s a lie, isn’t it?”
“…It said it wanted to see you.”
“Why, why!!”
At last, the emotions that had lost their way found a direction. Endure, and endure again.
“Why did it do that?”
Because the dog hadn’t wanted its owner to see it in its final state.
“……”
It was a question that couldn’t be answered. But at least that lost emotion now had a signpost called resentment, and Seo Se-yeon had been satisfied with that.