Chapter 2
1095 Words
I couldn’t even remember the last time I bought something I actually liked. My dream? It sounds so simple, yet in reality it feels impossible: I just want to walk down a quiet, empty street at night and eat ice cream without a single worry. But forget ice cream—there isn’t even time to breathe.
Leo stopped drinking and looked at her. There was an unknown emotion in his golden eyes, as if he wasn’t just listening—he was deeply feeling every word, every piece of Na-eun’s pain.
The cat was more than an ordinary pet; there was an unspoken understanding in his gaze, as if he were silently saying: I get you.
Na-eun quickly prepared for work, making sure all the windows were locked.
She picked Leo up one last time and kissed his forehead gently. “Be good, Leo. I’ll be back soon.”
Even after the door clicked shut, the cat remained by it, staring intently at the wood.
The playful stray from the streets was gone—replaced by a guardian. Bound to a three-hundred-year-old secret, he watched over her, ensuring she wouldn’t be alone, that her pain wouldn’t vanish into invisible shadows.
The Seoul morning air felt heavy. Na-eun dragged her tired steps back to the office. The moment she opened her laptop, her colleague Sarah appeared with a predator’s smile. “Is the file ready, Na-eun?”
Her tone sounded concerned, but her eyes carried the look of victory.
Na-eun forced a small smile. She was exhausted, but not broken. “Yes, Sarah. I’m heading to the boss’s office now.”
Inside the glass-walled room, the atmosphere felt suffocating. When she handed over the files, the boss glanced at them for only a second before slamming the folder down. Papers flew and struck her face.
“Important research sheets are missing! Do you think this job is a joke?”
Na-eun froze. It felt as if her world was collapsing. The collision from last night—maybe some papers had blown away.
“Please, sir… give me three days. I will recover everything,” she said, her voice trembling—but it wasn’t begging. It was hope.
“Three days,” the boss said coldly. “If this file isn’t perfect, your career is over.”
When she left the office, Sarah waited in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a mocking grin. “Failing again? You should start packing your desk.”
Na-eun said nothing. She didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. In the cafeteria, she sank into a chair and lowered her head. “I’m such a failure. How will I ever find that stranger again?” The words were for herself, a quiet echo of loneliness.
“Stressed again, Na-eun?” a warm voice asked.
She looked up. It was Minho—her childhood friend. He worked as a manager in another department, the one Na-eun had once wanted to join. Because of a mistake, she had signed a six-year contract in her current department, but Minho’s eyes held no judgment—only understanding.
He sat down and gently patted her head. “Don’t lose hope. You’re strong. Eat something, rest a little. I know you can figure it out.”
Na-eun stayed silent. Minho’s presence felt like a small shelter—fragile but real. Maybe the world wasn’t entirely cruel.
On the way home, her thoughts kept spiraling. As she walked down the familiar alley, a hand suddenly appeared—holding a stack of papers. Familiar papers. She turned around.
It was him—Moon Si-woo.
“You dropped these last night,” he said, his voice smooth and calm. “The wind carried them away, but I picked them up.”
Na-eun took the papers. Her eyes widened. These weren’t just documents—they were her effort, her future. “I… I don’t even know how to thank you.”
Si-woo tilted his head with a small smile. “Thanks isn’t enough. How about ice cream?”
Na-eun blinked in disbelief. Ice cream? At this hour?
From behind his back, Si-woo revealed a small bag—two strawberry cones. Just like the ice cream Na-eun had whispered about to Leo that morning—a quiet night, a simple treat, and peace.
They walked together. Seoul’s night glowed with silver light. No rush, no judgment. Just two people—one broken, one unknown—sharing a small moment.
Si-woo mentioned he worked at a nearby shop. “I’ll treat you to food soon. What do you like?”
“Fish,” she replied, smiling slightly. “Just fish. Or whatever you give me.”
In that moment, Na-eun felt something warm. Maybe hope still existed. Maybe the world wasn’t completely cold.
When they reached her building, they stopped. The goodbye lingered, but neither hurried.
Na-eun went upstairs quickly and called for Leo. The apartment was silent. The window was open—though she was sure she had locked it. She felt confused but relieved about the files and called Minho to share the news before falling onto the bed.
The next morning, Leo curled up beside her as if nothing had happened. “Where did you go, you little rascal?” she whispered, looking into his amber eyes.
“And how did you get out?” A suspicion took root in her mind. She decided to skip work and use her three days to solve the mystery of her cat.
She spent the day watching him, but Leo remained perfectly still. Only in the late afternoon, when shadows stretched longer, did the cat suddenly leap with startling agility.
Na-eun didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her coat and chased him through the alleyways of Seoul.
The path led to the outskirts of the city, where modern skyscrapers gave way to ancient stone walls.
There, she found a hidden sanctuary—the Temple of the Silver Moon.
Leo darted inside. Na-eun followed. The air smelled of incense and moonlight.
In the center of the hall, she saw a silhouette bathed in celestial glow.
The cat’s shape blurred. It shifted and stretched, dancing between shadow and light. Within moments, the cat was gone.
Standing in its place—dressed in the same black clothes from the night before—was Moon Si-woo.
Na-eun’s breath caught. Her world spun. She realized it—everything she had experienced, the listener of her heart, the one who saved her files, and the mysterious guardian cat—were the same.
Who was this man standing in the moonlight?
- Writer
