“Meow~?”
“……….”
“Hey, pretty Kitty~?”
He was clearly teasing her. With that flirty tone of voice, he’d come around just to call her for fun. Haein absolutely refused to acknowledge that name as her own.
“He actually thinks he came up with a good name.”
“Ugh…”
“A face like that with such a terrible naming sense. Lucky you, having such a wonderful owner.”
“Cough! Get lost! I hate you!”
Unable to take it anymore, Haein bared her teeth and shouted, but the obnoxious vet just doubled over, laughing. At this point, even being called ‘Kitty’ or ‘Nabi’ would’ve been better.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
Inside the cage, Haein sulked, unmoving in her loaf position.
She hated the name. She hated this hospital—no, this steel prison disguised as a hospital. It was clean, sure, but it felt cold, smelled of fear, and reeked of loneliness.
She could smell the scent of tears shed from anxiety. Just the thought of being apart from Taeil for a whole week was already unbearable.
“Oh dear, someone’s in a bad mood, huh?”
“I hate it here…”
“Who would doubt you’re a cat?”
“It smells.”
The worst part was the constant noise—barking, whining, crying, eating, and defecating from the animals on all sides. It was mentally exhausting for any human-like mind to endure.
Especially the crying—it wasn’t just noise. It carried loneliness and fear that struck deep into the heart.
And the smell—oh, the smell. With her heightened feline senses, it was a curse more than a gift. This place was never going to be pleasant.
Siyul informed the grumpy Haein of the hospital’s closing time as he turned off the lights and asked,
“Wanna come to my place?”
“…And why should I trust you?”
“I’ll bring you back here first thing in the morning.”
It was a tempting offer. Just a little bit. Spending the night in that cage was going to be hell.
But Haein couldn’t bring herself to trust Siyul to keep her safe and sound. Fall asleep in front of that guy and she might wake up on a dissection table…
“No thanks!”
“Suit yourself.”
He turned and walked away without a hint of regret. Haein let out a groan, but no way was she going to sleep at her mortal enemy’s house. She pretended not to care, stubborn to the end.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
That night, Haein didn’t sleep at all, even with her ears pinned back.
If she looked in the mirror, her eyes would probably be bloodshot.
The whimpering cries of dogs missing their owners were unbearable. Her oversensitive nose was going numb from all the mixed animal scents.
Being locked up in a cage all day—this was torture. She thought,
Is this why they put criminals in jail? To make them suffer like this?
Even with human-level intelligence, the cage was an impossible endurance test.
And it wasn’t just one night. It went on for two. There were still five days left.
Her head spun.
The memory of civilized life was haunting her. Should she ask Siyul to take her in?
No! That would be too dangerous!
Is this really all the self-control I have?
Haein blamed her laziness on her animal instincts.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
“Dr. Kang, this one hasn’t eaten. It’s been three days.”
It was a young vet tech who brought her meals each morning after turning on the lights.
And it seemed she was worried that Haein hadn’t touched her food. Of course she hadn’t. At Taeil’s place, she used to pretend to eat and just flush it down the toilet when he wasn’t looking.
“She won’t even drink water.”
The other animals howled for their owners, but Haein stayed silent, practicing a form of silent protest.
Curled up and unmoving—it was too extreme, even for a cage. Haein was big enough to stretch out comfortably, but she wouldn’t budge.
“Leave her. She’s just sulking because her owner’s gone.”
“But doctor, some animals starve themselves to death because they think they’ve been abandoned.”
“She’s not that kind. She’s not the type to believe she’s been abandoned. She’s just throwing a tantrum.”
“I see…”
“She’s smart. She’s doing it on purpose—for me to see it. I’m her primary vet. So don’t worry too much, Nurse Kim.”
Siyul wasn’t worried. He knew she didn’t actually need to eat. He treated her hunger strike the way one would deal with a spoiled child—by ignoring it.
Still, when no one else was around, he would often come by and ask questions.
Things like: “Can you understand what other animals say?” or “Can you feel what they’re feeling?”
“Roughly, yeah.”
“How so? Do you hear them talk?”
“Hmm, not exactly. It’s more like… I feel their emotions. Like they’re my own.”
“I see. Impressive.”
Siyul usually came around just before closing time, when the other staff had gone home. He’d ask questions, then always end with the same one:
“Want to come to my place tonight?”
“No.”
Haein still couldn’t trust him.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
On the third day, the hospital happened to be unusually quiet.
Out of nowhere, Siyul opened her cage.
“Come on out.”
“…Why?”
“You’re not gonna run away, are you? You can stay in my office. Just don’t cause trouble.”
That was wonderful news. Come to think of it, some of the dogs and cats that lived at the hospital roamed freely.
Siyul must’ve figured Haein was intelligent enough to handle that.
And indeed, the cage was a major source of stress for her.
“Meowaaah!” (Finally!!)
As soon as he set her down on the exam table, Haein stretched from her shoulders to her back, all the way to her tail.
“Feel better?”
“Meow.” (Yup.)
She licked her paw in response. It was instinct to clean herself after being soaked in other animals’ scents.
“You’re safe in here today because I’m on duty. But not tomorrow.”
“Meow, meow.” (Got it, got it.)
“You have to stay quietly in the office. Can you do that?”
Even he must’ve seen that the cage was torture for someone like her. Fine, it was better than being locked up, so she nodded.
Other patients’ owners started asking why that particular cat was free.
“She’s well-behaved. It’s fine.”
Siyul always replied like that while continuing his exams. Haein sat quietly in the corner, watching him work.
And she had to admit—though she disliked him as a talking cat—he was a surprisingly competent vet.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
“Doctor! What do we do about Carrie?! Her paw is bleeding!”
“Ah, her nail broke. I’ll have to pull it out.”
“What?! No anesthesia?!”
“It’s better to remove it now. In this case, anesthesia would be more harmful.”
His treatment style was, well… a bit brutal. He preferred the simplest, most effective option.
If he thought something was unnecessary, he would say so—bluntly. He even called it “a waste of money” without hesitation.
And when things looked dire or hopeless, he wasn’t afraid to recommend euthanasia.
Was he cold? Harsh? It was hard to say. But it wasn’t that he lacked humanity. When serious matters arose, Haein instinctively quieted down.
“Don’t think of euthanasia as a bad thing. Repeating this surgery would only bring more pain—unimaginable pain. If it were a human, they’d wish for death instead. Honestly, there’s no hope of recovery. It’s just suffering for both the pet and the owner. Letting go may be the kinder choice.”
Haein even witnessed him get slapped by a client after making that suggestion.
Later, when the clinic had emptied out, she asked,
“Why did you become a vet?”
The question had been bothering her. To choose this career, he must love animals. But to recommend euthanasia… and to take a slap so indifferently…
Siyul was a strange human. Admirably self-assured, but strange.
“Oh, you’re asking questions now?”
“…Forget it if you don’t want to answer! Hmph!”
It was rare for her to be curious, and now she felt embarrassed for showing interest.
Siyul seemed amused, even pleased, and casually shared his story.
“My family’s full of doctors. Dad’s a surgeon, Mom’s a neurologist, my brother’s a plastic surgeon, and my sister’s a dentist. That’s why.”
“Whoa, elite much. Then why are you the only vet?”
“Exactly. Out of five of us, I’m the odd one.”
“…Wouldn’t saving people be more rewarding?”
She honestly thought it’d be a better deal for him. Was he not smart enough? She doubted that.
Siyul chuckled as he sterilized a thermometer.
“Animals can’t talk. It’s hard to treat them, just like with human babies. That’s why there are fewer and fewer pediatricians and veterinarians these days.”
“So, you became a vet because of that? If anything, pediatrics might’ve been better—”
“I like standing out. The more my family told me not to do it, the more I wanted to. And it’s not like only humans are living beings.”
As Siyul answered, tidying up the exam table, he seemed—just a little bit—like a decent human being. Whatever else, he had kept Haein’s secret and showed subtle care for her. Even if he was an infuriating man with an equally infuriating smirk.
Still, watching him now, he didn’t seem like a bad person.
There were many regular animal patients that seemed to like him. And animals—especially sensitive ones—didn’t usually trust someone with a bad nature.
Since they’d keep seeing each other, maybe she could try being a little friendlier. That’s what Haein thought, watching him.
Of course, it wasn’t long before they were back to being sworn enemies.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
It happened on the final day—just one more until Taeil’s return.
That day too, Haein was lounging in the exam room, having been carried in by Siyul once again.
Not a word of thanks—just shamelessly making herself at home.
She yawned deeply while sprawled atop a low cabinet.
It looked like another boring day ahead.
“It just needs a couple stitches.”
“Oh no… Is it serious?”
“Not really. Hm… no anesthesia needed. Just a quick pinch.”
“But won’t it hurt?”
“Of course it will. But not enough to warrant anesthesia—it’s unnecessary.”
According to Siyul, the cost of anesthesia varied by clinic, but typically ran around 100,000 won. More importantly, anesthesia wasn’t something animals could always handle safely.
In fact, about 5 in every 100 animals never woke up from it.
Even using the same anesthetic on the same species could yield different results due to individual biological differences. If an animal had a weak organ, that organ might not wake up from the sedation.
With humans, pre-anesthesia screenings are legally required. But for animals, the owner could decline them to save money.
Since the risk of not waking was under 5%, some owners decided 100,000 won wasn’t worth it.
“So… you’re saying the wound isn’t that bad?”
“Right. This’ll be over quickly. It’s best if you wait outside.”
Siyul didn’t recommend anesthesia unless it was absolutely necessary. General anesthesia was all that could be used on animals—and it affected their bodies so strongly it could even alter their temperament.
But of course, the one who had to face the blood and scratches was always Siyul. He often ended up clawed or bitten during procedures.
He could just anesthetize them—make surgery easier and even more profitable. From Haein’s point of view, his refusal looked like a personal loss.
“How long will it take?”
“Maybe thirty minutes at most. Please don’t worry—it’ll be quick.”
Once the owner stepped out, the white Persian cat inside the room grew visibly more anxious. Haein wondered if she’d been like that too. She figured… probably.
But that Persian had a much more pitiful, sympathetic look—long fur, blue eyes, the very image of grace and beauty.
Such a stark contrast to her own pitch-black coat.
Watching the Persian tremble like a little princess, Haein almost felt her heart melt. Siyul, however, remained unmoved.
If cold-heartedness was a trait required in doctors, then Siyul definitely had it. He didn’t even flinch seeing such a pretty cat shake with fear.
“Meow?”
Suddenly, the Persian cat launched itself toward Haein.
“Kiyaaang!”
Though it was unexpected, Haein’s excellent reflexes saved her—she simply leaned to the side, letting the Persian land where she had been sitting.
Then the cat leapt up again—this time onto a high cabinet. As only a true cat could.
Still, it was all within the exam room.
When Siyul reached to grab it, the Persian darted down, bolting across the room.
In seconds, the room descended into chaos.
Siyul hadn’t expected that timid, shivering Persian to be such a little demon.
Scared and ownerless, the cat tore around the exam room, completely unhinged.
The more Siyul tried to catch her, the more havoc she wreaked. Beakers fell, frames crashed.
Clatter! Crash!
“You little—!”
“Wmyamyamyamya!!”
Eventually, he did catch her. But the Persian was more aggressive than Haein—scratching at his hands, even headbutting him.
Even while caught, she flailed and clawed at him, forcing Siyul to lift her high above his head just to keep her away.
He had to calm her down somehow if he was going to treat her. But she was wild—sedation might be the only option.
The white cat, wounded on her inner thigh from a fight with another pet, was especially temperamental and agitated.
Siyul, usually great at subduing animals, was seriously struggling.
Watching the scene, Haein thought she should learn that cat’s attack tactics.
So that’s what instinctual combat looks like!
She was actually a bit impressed.
Watching Siyul suffer like this—even yawning while doing it—was entertaining for Haein. After all the times he teased her, this was sweet justice.
“Kyaiyaaang!”
“Ugh—wait, hold on!”
He was still under full attack. His hands were raised like he was under arrest, and the writhing cat above forced him to stumble backward.
At some point, one of his slippers had fallen off—but he didn’t notice.
He tried to talk the cat down, but unlike Haein, the Persian lacked the intelligence to understand—or maybe had just completely lost it.
The cat was clearly in a frenzied, no-holds-barred survival mode.
“Kyah!”
“You little—! Stop—Uwah!”
“Watch it! Hey! Hey!”
Just as Haein was watching the scuffle with some amusement, she suddenly cried out. Siyul was backing right into a shattered beaker.
When the Persian had knocked it over earlier, it had broken into large, razor-sharp pieces—sharp enough to pierce an Achilles even with shoes on.
But Siyul didn’t seem to hear her warning. The Persian’s screeching drowned her out.
“Yah!”
Haein leapt from the drawer to the exam table and called again. But again, he didn’t hear her over the chaos.
She anxiously stomped her paw on the table, eyes fixed on the broken glass beneath his feet.
Watch your step! That’s dangerous!
If he stepped on that jagged edge… there’d be a serious injury, maybe worse. Her heart pounded just thinking about it.
The image of glass slicing through flesh into bone—just imagining it made her dizzy.
She instinctively reached toward him, trying to stop him.
But her outstretched hand was still just a cat’s paw.
“Argh!”
“YAAAH!”
Then it happened.
Siyul, having just gotten bitten hard enough to draw blood, lost his balance and began falling backward.
To Haein, it felt like slow motion.
If he fell, he wouldn’t just cut his foot—he might smash his head.
Her frantic warnings were swallowed by the Persian’s shrieks.
“Watch out—!”
Panicked beyond reason, Haein suddenly stood up on two legs.
“Kyahooooong!”
“Just stop… Huh?”
Veterinarian Kang Siyul froze as the Persian, after biting his hand, finally ran off.
He’d clung to her with everything he had, but now… he couldn’t move.
Despite the chaos, something else was commanding his attention now.
“…Don’t turn around…”
He heard a voice—clear, unmistakable.
And even though it told him not to turn around, he couldn’t resist.
It was instinct.
There should’ve only been two cats and himself in the room.
But someone had suddenly wrapped their arms around him from behind—and it was definitely a woman’s voice.
A soft, warm human embrace.
His curiosity—overwhelming and inescapable—took over.
“…Huh?”
And in that instant, Siyul was more shocked than when he first heard the black cat talk.
No, hundreds of times more. Maybe infinitely.
Because draped in his pale blue lab coat, clinging to his back—
Was clearly a naked, soft-skinned woman.
Her face flushed crimson, and when their eyes met, she spoke in the same unmistakable voice he’d come to know so well.
The voice of the black cat he’d been paying so much attention to lately.
“Don’t… look at me!”
Haein’s face burned red with embarrassment.
Why couldn’t she have just let him get stabbed and pretend not to care?
And why, oh why, did transforming always leave her completely naked?
