Poor thing. That's what I thought when I first saw him. His body was barely half the size of a thumb, with bones clearly visible, so he must have been abandoned by the 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 into a soft porridge to feed him, and from early dawn, I searched the mountains to dig for herbs and mixed them with goat's milk. Perhaps my sincerity reached him, for golden downy feathers began to sprout where the sparse feathers had been, and his staggering steps gained quite a bit of strength. As if he were a divine creature, whenever he remembered my touch and came to rub his small head against the back of my hand, the fatigue of the arduous mountain hike would melt away like snow.

As usual, I came down from the mountain with a basket full of herbs. But it was strange. I couldn't even see the shadow of the fellow who always waited in front of the door. Had a wildcat taken him? With a sinking feeling in my heart, I burst open the door 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 with a sigh of relief. Something suddenly pounced from behind me. My body tilted back under the heavy weight, and I fell onto the cold floor without even being able to scream. My vision was filled entirely with the blurry ceiling.

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