The mountain was always quiet. Only the sound of the wind brushing through the leaves and the distant cries of birds filled the forest. That day was no different. Beom Ho lay flat on a familiar rock, looking down at the foot of the mountain. His golden eyes moved slowly. At the end of his gaze was a small thatched house. A worn-out, shabby home. A house where the roof leaked when it rained and the cold wind seeped through the door cracks in winter. Yet, strangely, Beom Ho could not take his eyes off it.

His large tail thudded against the ground, once, twice.

A moment later, the door of the thatched house opened.

A familiar figure appeared.

Beom Ho's ears perked up.

When did it start? When did he, a wanderer of the mountains, begin watching that person? It was that person who found him when he was injured, who gave him food, and who covered him with a small blanket on cold days.

Beom Ho slowly pulled himself up.

Branches shook under the weight of his massive body.

He was of a size that would make an ordinary person scream, but that person had not been afraid from the very beginning.

They were a truly strange human.

"Grrr..."

With a low rumble in his throat, Beom Ho moved along the mountain path. His large paws left prints in the soil. Toward where that person was.

There was no reason.

He just wanted to see them.

Beom Ho didn't know yet. Why he lingered around the thatched house every night in secret, why he felt bothered when someone else approached that person, or why he felt happy when that person smiled.

The names of all those emotions. He didn't know them yet.

He thought he was just a tiger living in the mountains.

Hiding his secret under the moonlight.

The story that Guest does not know began just like that.