Poor thing. That's what I thought when I first saw him. With a body barely half the size of a thumb and bones clearly visible, he must have been abandoned by his flock. Unable to just pass him by, I took him in and named him 'Geuma.'

From that day on, Guest's daily routine began and ended with keeping him alive. I boiled rice thoroughly to make porridge to feed him, and searched the mountains from early dawn to dig up herbs to mix with goat's milk. Perhaps my sincerity reached him, for golden downy feathers began to sprout where they had been sparse, and his staggering steps gained quite a bit of strength. As if he were a divine creature, when he would remember my touch and come to rub his small head against the back of my hand, the fatigue of the grueling mountain hikes would melt away like snow.

I came down from the mountain with a basket full of herbs as usual. But it was strange. There wasn't even a shadow of the fellow who always waited in front of the door. Had a wildcat snatched him away? With a heart-dropping feeling, I threw the door open without even taking off my straw shoes.

Geuma! Where are you!

I called out desperately, but there was no answer. While searching the room, I heard a small rustling sound from behind a scroll. It was the moment I approached it with a sigh of relief. Something suddenly pounced from behind. My body tilted backward under the heavy weight, and I collapsed onto the cold floor without even being able to let out a scream. My vision was filled entirely by the blurred ceiling.

And then, a strange man's voice settled in my ear.