“Kang! Bake me some cookies!”
“…What? Where did that even come from?”
“No, wait—cake! I want cake!”
True to his promise, Siyul had come home earlier than usual that day, only to be immediately dragged into the kitchen by Haein’s sudden outburst.
He had just gotten off work, and now this? He had no idea what had gotten into her this time.
“Hurry up, okay? Kang! Something delicious!”
Hae-in practically shoved him toward the oven, and Yaho trailed behind her with his usual lazy gait.
Siyul rolled up his sleeves with a reluctant sigh.
Still in his work clothes, he reached up to pull the hand mixer and cookie molds down from the cupboard. He didn’t understand what was going on, but if Hae-in said bake—he’d bake.
“Fine, but cake’s a stretch. We don’t even have all the ingredients.”
“Then cookies are fine. Just make them tasty.”
“Why all of a sudden?”
“To feed Yaho!”
“…”
He nearly said no way right then and there, but Haein’s eyes were sparkling too brightly for him to resist.
That sparkling look always worked on him—whether she was in her cat form or her human one, those eyes hit him like a direct blow.
“Kang, please?”
When she clung to his arm like that, begging, it was devastatingly effective.
If she had asked because she wanted to eat them, he would have baked them with pleasure. No matter how tired he was, he could have made a hundred cupcakes for her alone.
“I like chocolate,” he muttered.
“Ugh, quiet! Yaho ate it all already!”
“Awww.”
But the idea of baking cake for that bothersome tiger right after work? He couldn’t muster a drop of affection for that.
Not even a whisker’s worth.
And that was the problem.
“I’m not doing it. Why should I feed him—”
“Ah! Don’t say that, please?”
“I said no.”
“Kang… I want to eat it too. You know I love your cookies. Please? Kaang…”
His affection for Hae-in, on the other hand, overflowed to the point of being troublesome.
Her pleading had grown more persuasive over time. When she looked up at him with those tearful eyes, he couldn’t hold out.
So that sparkle was because of tears.
“You’re unbelievable…”
In the end, Siyul began baking.
Even as he thought
Why am I doing this again?,
his hands moved anyway.
He had once been the kind of selfish man who never lifted a finger for others without a clear reason. But after meeting Hae-in, he had grown strangely used to doing things without question.
He knew full well he’d been tamed.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
“The world’s changed, hasn’t it? A male in the kitchen.”
“Kang’s really good at cooking, so you can look forward to it!”
“Oh? Then is he a chef by trade?”
Yaho pointed curiously at Siyul’s back as the man busied himself at the counter.
“Nope. He’s a veterinarian.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, right—you wouldn’t know. I guess they didn’t exist back then.”
“I studied a bit when I came down here, but it was all so rushed,” Yaho admitted.
Hae-in wondered if among the spirits there was some kind of book titled ‘Ten Days to Master the Human World – Modern Edition!’
Yaho’s grasp of modern knowledge was… peculiar.
He knew about safe words, but not cake. How did that even happen?
“I studied from this,” he said.
“…Huh?!”
The title of the book was exactly the kind of thing she had imagined—but what really startled her was that he pulled it out from under his arm.
He was wearing one of Siyul’s hoodies, which definitely had no hidden pockets there—or at least none she knew of.
“This is the newest edition,” he went on.
“Though the author wrote it about twenty years ago, so it’s already a bit outdated…”
“H-how did you even pull that out from there?”
“This? It’s an extradimensional pocket.”
“…What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think of it as a personal storage dimension—a little private locker. You can stash things inside. Some make their portals in their mouths, others in their hair. I prefer mine here.”
As if to demonstrate, Yaho pulled out another book from his side.
It was no magic show, yet things were appearing and vanishing before her eyes.
“Tada.”
As Haein’s mouth dropped open, Yaho grew more and more entertained, pulling out all sorts of oddities—
Jerky, ancient scrolls, bundles of herbs, a tuft of some beast’s tail, worn socks, a silk hair ribbon with pretty patterns, and… bones.
“Stop! Put them back! Now!”
“Ow, tickles.”
“Why do you even have those things?!”
When he pulled out what looked like a bone fragment, Haein’s only thought was to shove it back before Siyul saw.
But only Yaho could open the pocket, so all she managed to do was tickle his side uselessly.
“This one’s rare,” Yaho said proudly.
“A pureblood werewolf’s molar—”
“Enough! Put it away!”
“Tch. It’s a charm, you know. Keeps vampires away.”
“What nonsense—you’d probably eat any vampire that came near.”
“Well… true enough.”
The reaper was strange, but Yaho might be even stranger.
He opened interdimensional pockets like it was nothing, rambled about vampires, and rolled werewolf teeth between his fingers like dice.
Granted, Haein herself wasn’t exactly ordinary either.
“I was keeping it for someone who might need it. What do you say? If you like it, I’ll give it to you as payment for letting me stay.”
“Absolutely not. Normal people don’t need that kind of thing.”
“Oh? Then what about him?” Yaho nodded toward Siyul.
“He reeks of beast scent.”
He was clearly trying to pawn the tooth off on her. But Hae-in shook her head firmly.
She wasn’t going to accept that as rent payment. If Yaho really wanted to repay her, she’d rather he did something actually useful.
That was exactly why she wanted to feed him cookies.
Earlier, she’d learned that since Yaho was a Dao-seeking being, he always had to repay any favor he received.
‘Dao means standing in balance with all things. To harm none, and to repay what you receive in equal measure. Understand?’
‘Hmm… I’m not dumb, but could you put it simpler?’
‘To help someone, I must first owe them a favor worth repaying.’
At first, it had sounded like he wanted to help her—but that “help” required a price.
‘…Like how you once helped Cheongwol?’
‘Exactly. Wol saved me. So I helped Wol. That’s the kind of favor it takes. The only reason I helped the reaper make your body was because I owed him as much.’
‘What kind of favor did the reaper give you?’
‘He didn’t take me to the underworld when I was on the brink of death. He waited—over and over—for me to come back to life.’
After hearing that, Hae-in hatched a small plan.
Maybe she couldn’t offer something as grand as the reaper had, but bit by bit, she’d give Yaho reasons to feel indebted—so that eventually, he’d have to help her.
Feeding him something delicious was just the first step.
Technically, Kang is the one doing the cooking, but still.
“You really do have a tiger’s nose,” she said.
“A normal person wouldn’t smell anything but soap on Kang.”
“More like a tiger’s nose that’s been refining for seven hundred years.”
“…You’re seven hundred years old?”
“Give or take. I stopped counting after that.”
Maybe it didn’t matter—he didn’t seem to age anyway.
“Kang is… like I said earlier, a veterinarian.”
“Judging by the smell, he’s more like a hunter. Someone who kills beasts and cooks them. The scent of blood on him is no joke.”
“Um, no. Veterinarians are doctors for animals. That’s why he smells like different species—and since he performs surgery, there’s a little blood scent too.”
“Ohh? The world’s really changed. When did people start doing that? I didn’t think much of him before, but he’s quite the decent human, isn’t he?”
Maybe because he was an animal himself, Yaho’s opinion of Siyul seemed to rise rapidly.
Haein, who wasn’t even the veterinarian in question, couldn’t help feeling proud.
“Ahem! So… does that make you feel like helping us more?”
“No, that’s unrelated.”
“Tch.”
Feeding and clothing him was one thing—but she’d need to think harder about how else to make him feel indebted.
It was the first time in her life she’d ever had to scheme like this.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
“So, Yaho, since you’ll be staying for a while—anything you’d like to do? If not, should I take you to an amusement park? You’ve never been to one, right?”
“Oh, I know that.”
“You do? How?”
“It was in this book. Humans pay money to stand in line, scream, and leave. And they lock animals in cages for show. I’ll pass.”
That book was definitely not helping.
Her brilliant idea shot down, Hae-in had to think again. What would interest a seven-hundred-year-old tiger?
“How about visiting Cheongwol’s grave?”
“I know where that is.”
“…Then maybe we can find her descendants? I can track them down if you want—”
“I already met the third generation. I even caught a boar for one of them when they were starving. Feels like it was just yesterday.”
Hopeless. What could possibly tempt a tiger that ancient? All she knew for sure was that he liked Cheongwol—and sweets.
As she sat there frowning, Siyul came over.
“What’s this? You two seem to have gotten close.”
He was still wearing oven mitts, probably just back from putting the dough in.
Considering she’d made him bake while she chatted away, his expression was understandable.
“Oh, we’ve always been close,” Yaho said casually.
“Uh, excuse me, Yaho—that’s… not the best way to say it.”
“Oh? Then what should I say?”
“We’re…”
“I’ve got it! How about foster father? I raised you, didn’t I?”
Well, she didn’t remember that.
Sure, he had cared for her empty, soulless body, but calling him her father was a bit much.
The truth was, there simply wasn’t a word that quite described what they were.
While Hae-in struggled for an answer, Siyul’s expression grew darker.
“…That’s a joke, right?”
“Ah, yes! Don’t take it seriously!”
“Because if I have to call this guy Father—”
“Absolutely not.”
Hae-in frantically waved her hands.
She might live with this bizarre tiger, but she was a perfectly normal human being.
Even if she could transform between cat and human, she was human—and that was something she really wanted Siyul to know.
If she could, she’d have read him her social security number.
“What? I wouldn’t mind if you called me father.”
“…Be quiet! Don’t confuse him, just sit still!”
“So cruel. Birth isn’t the only bond, you know. Don’t ignore the bond of raising.”
“Kang! Don’t listen to him! Whatever he says—just let it go in one ear and out the other!”
Unfortunately for her, Siyul had already mentally filed Yaho somewhere between fox spirit and Haein’s weird relative.
The last thing she wanted was to confuse him further—and Yaho wasn’t helping.
Of all people, this was the one she needed help from. Haein wanted to cry.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
Fresh from the oven, the yuzu madeleines and sesame cookies were still warm when Yaho began devouring them. Apparently, heat didn’t bother him—he ate one after another with ease.
By the time Hae-in had eaten one, he’d already eaten four or five.
Naturally, the cookies were gone in no time.
By the time Siyul came back, having changed out of his work clothes, the plate was empty.
“Now that was satisfying,”
Yaho said, licking his fingers.
“Well… I’m glad.”
Hae-in, pushed aside and left with nothing, had to settle for nibbling on crumbs.
“Amazing, really,” Yaho said happily. “Freshly baked cookies… so warm and full of happiness.”
Easy for you to say, she thought bitterly.
You ate them all.
Si-yul looked as if he might explode at any moment. After all the effort he had put into baking those cookies, every single one had ended up in Yaho’s mouth.
“The cookies were to your liking, right?”
“I liked them very much. The quantity was just… a little lacking.”
Hae-in tried to soothe him by patting his knee, then rubbed her hands together with a hopeful look. Maybe it was shameless of her—but if there was something to gain, she might as well try.
“Yaho, then—now can you…!”
“Let’s see. How shall I repay this favor?”
“Well, um, I—”
“I’ll read your fortune.”
“…What?”
“I’m rather good at it.”
Oh, come on, you stupid tiger!
Haein nearly shouted. Who in the world had asked him to read her fortune? That wasn’t what she wanted at all.
Something that could help her and Si-yul directly—that was what she needed.
“What shall I read? Wealth? Children?”
“…Forget it. I’m not interested.”
“Why? Don’t be shy.”
She couldn’t even bring herself to complain aloud. Then Si-yul, who had been listening quietly beside her, spoke in a low voice.
“So… if we give him food, he gives something in return?”
“…Yeah. Yaho only returns what he receives. But the problem is, he’s not really interested in anything except food…”
“I see.”
Si-yul abruptly stood up. Though he had just changed clothes, he went straight to his room and pulled on his coat.
“Kang?”
“I’m going out for a bit.”
“Where are you going all of a sudden?”
“You said earlier he wanted cake, right? Then I’ll make plenty—enough to stuff that tiger until he bursts. I’ll head to the mart for ingredients.”
That was exactly what Haein had been planning to suggest for tomorrow. She had wanted to explain it slowly tonight and find a way to enlist his help.
He didn’t seem to need that kind of explanation. He was already getting ready to go.
“Oh-ho, it’ll take quite a lot to make my stomach burst.”
“…I’ll be back.”
As Si-yul stepped out of the house, Yaho looked on with an expression eerily similar to Haein’s own.
“That human seems rather smart.”
“I’d say his brain is probably sharper than both of ours combined.”
“I won’t admit that—but fine. He’s clever, capable. Those types usually are.”
“What do you mean, ‘those types’?”
“The short-lived kind.”
Hae-in, who had been clearing the empty dish, froze. For a moment she thought she must have misheard. Yaho had said it so casually that it almost didn’t register at first.
Slowly, she asked again.
“…What did you just say?”
“Short-lived.”
“The ‘short-lived’ I know only has one meaning. You meant something else, right? Right?”
Of course that’s what he meant. It has to be. How could it be otherwise?
Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. She felt like she might drop the dish she was holding, so she quickly set it down. But the unease only deepened.
“What’s the meaning you know?”
“Dying… early.”
“Correct. That’s exactly what I meant.”
It hit her all at once. The words she had spoken herself chilled her to the bone, sending a numb shiver through her arms and legs. Cold sweat broke out immediately.
Her body burned one moment and froze the next.
This… this is what dying felt like.
That day, in that trembling car, she had felt it—the same suffocating, electric sense of impending death. Her voice trembled, barely holding back tears.
“Don’t… don’t joke about things like that.”
“I can’t lie, and I don’t make jokes. I only speak the truth. That man—he’s going to face death soon.”
“No! That’s ridiculous! You can’t just say something like that out of nowhere!”
“Why are you angry with me? Life’s turning points always come suddenly. From what I can see, that human was a tyrant or a warlord in his past life—someone who killed many. So now he’s paying for that, dying young over and over again.”
It was as if her ears had stopped working, yet the words echoed inside her skull, over and over. She wanted to cover her ears, but even that felt useless.
“The sin of taking life without meaning is heavy,”
Yaho went on calmly.
“He was arrogant—ignorant of the sanctity of life. So now, he’s destined to face death repeatedly. Born as weak animals, or as humans who die very young.”
“…!”
“In time, he’ll come to understand the preciousness of life. That is what we call a meaningful short life.”
“I don’t care what it’s called—I don’t want that!”
“Such is fate. But look—thanks to those repeated deaths, he’s become a man who cherishes even an animal’s life. A veterinarian. That’s a noble profession.”
Only now did it fully hit her that she was speaking to something not human.
Yaho might have spoken as though he had simply read a fortune, but to Hae-in, it was brutal. She couldn’t even think straight from the shock.
The idea that he might die before finding her—she had never, not once, imagined that.
