This episode contains violence, strong language, and themes that may be disturbing to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.
"I am looking for food."
"Is it… that a cat like me is not allowed to set foot in this area?"
"If so, I apologize… I will go look for it somewhere else."
The slightly taller child stood with a careful posture, as if his mere existence could disturb the order of this unfamiliar place.
When he spoke, his voice flowed softly, almost a whisper, carrying an honest and clear innocence. There was no pretense there; every word was uttered as it was.
His gaze stared straight ahead—clear, innocent, and bright—as if the harsh world, full of wounds and deception, had not yet left its shadow there. But behind that clarity, was tucked something subtle: a vague sense of guilt.
His two ears, which had been erect with alertness, now drooped, withered, following the tremor of his feelings.
"Ah… right. You asked for my name earlier, didn't you?"
His tone shifted lightly, like someone who had just remembered something important yet pleasant.
His hand raised slowly.
His index finger paused in the air for a moment before finally pointing to a small necklace that circled his neck.
"My owner gave me the name Abbie."
The corner of his lips lifted slightly, forming a thin, genuine smile—the smile of a child showing off something precious with pride.
The slightly shorter child stood on tiptoe, his heels raised carefully.
His neck lengthened slightly, his eyes widened, tracing every movement of the pendant that swayed slowly on Abbie's chest, as if he wanted to catch every gleam and shadow that accompanied it.
There, the name "Abbie" was clearly carved, written in white that contrasted with the surrounding darkness.
The font was cheerful, sweetly curved, as if made for a warm home page, amidst laughter, dim yellow lights, and the fragrant smell of toast.
"I certainly don't mind if you look for food here. So, you don't need to apologize like that. It's just…"
He paused for a moment.
He took one step back, a small step that felt slow yet deliberate.
His gaze moved slowly, tracing Abbie's figure from head to toe, full of scrutiny, as if he were assembling pieces of meaning from something that felt odd.
"Shouldn't you be at your home… I mean, with your owner, on a night like this?"
"But why are you here instead, in such tattered and dirty clothes, even though your skin is so white and well-cared for?"
"You're even looking for food alone… Did your owner forget to feed you? Or did you… intentionally leave your owner's house, then choose to look for food in a dirty and squalid place like this?"
"Even though, couldn't you get better food at your owner's house? Even more nutritious, with adequate portions, and certainly much more decent than what you find here?"
The series of questions poured out from his lips, one by one, with a strangely quiet tone.
But behind the dimness of that tone, were clearly stored three clashing feelings—an irresistible curiosity, a subtle but piercing jealousy, and a disguised envy that he could not hide.
Abbie, upon hearing all those questions, suddenly froze.
The questions felt like they were floating in the air, circling above his head, then diving sharply towards him—slow in perception, but actually hitting with painful speed.
He wanted to open his mouth, wanted to answer, wanted to at least say something, anything. But not a single word could he form.
Instead of speaking, Abbie was fixated on the figure in front of him—a short child who was now staring back at him.
There, Abbie saw a reflection of emotions that were too complex: repressed jealousy, unspoken envy, and a vague yet piercing sadness.
There was a small wound settled behind that gaze, a wound from feeling marginalized, forgotten, or perhaps never truly valued.
The slightly shorter child finally realized Abbie's silence.
"Why are you silent?"
"Did my words just offend you?"
After that, his gaze fell downwards, tracing his own bare feet.
The surface of his skin was covered in dried earth stains, dull lines mixed with reddish scars here and there, as if the ground and pain had joined hands to leave their mark.
That gaze was held for quite some time, before finally shifting slowly.
Now his eyes turned to Abbie, unconsciously comparing.
Abbie's feet looked different—clean, pale, and well-cared for, as if they had never directly touched the harsh ground or the coldness of wounds.
"I didn't mean to offend you."
He immediately turned his face away, allowing his eyes to wander in random directions.
His own fingers moved unconsciously, slowly kneading one another, pressing against each other as if they could hold back something that was urging to escape.
"I just feel envious of those who are lucky enough to be adopted by kind-hearted humans, while I don't even know where to go every day just to feel safe, because to some humans, I am just a disgusting little puppy."
"They hurt me and insult me, saying that I don't deserve to live just because I am not attractive in their eyes, as if anyone who isn't attractive isn't worthy of staying alive."
Every word that came out of his mouth trembled, not only because he was expressing his feelings, but also because there was a trace of experience that had weighed him down all this time.
"But on the other hand, I also want to feel safe—without having to beg humans for food, only to be harshly chased away, even having my body beaten."
"I want to feel cherished, loved, and acknowledged, that I also deserve to be a part of their lives; even though I know I am not that lucky, if there was a human who would own me and take care of me like they take care of you, I promise I would protect them and grow into a loyal dog to my owner."
At the end of that sentence, his voice changed, becoming bitter, sour, as if every word that came out had been dissolved in a feeling that was too heavy to swallow.
Abbie, who had been silent all this time, suddenly gritted his teeth.
That small sound was heard sharply in the deserted corridor, enough to make the short child immediately lift his face with a confused expression.
"What kind of nonsense are you talking about?"
Abbie's tone this time no longer contained the innocence it usually did. There was a suffocating heat in his voice.
"What nonsense did you just say?"
Abbie's eyebrows furrowed, emphasizing every line on his face that seemed to harden, revealing denial.
Behind that expression, lurked annoyance that was slowly finding its way out.
"You seriously think that by meeting a kind-hearted human, you will immediately feel lucky?!"
His tone rose slightly, no longer just speaking in an ordinary pitch.
His shoulders tensed, his breath came in short bursts, showing how much the short child's words had just touched a point that had been tightly guarded all this time.
The short child blinked his eyes repeatedly—a sign that he was confused by the sudden change in Abbie's tone.
"Of course… of course it is."
There were small pauses between his sentences, too brief to be called silence, yet long enough to show that he himself was not fully prepared for what he was saying.
"Isn't… isn't that what you feel when you meet a kind-hearted human?"
"They will take care of you as if you are a part of their lives."
"They will even turn fierce when someone hurts you."
"They will always protect you—no matter the circumstances."
"And whatever happens… they will still be there for you."
"Isn't it supposed to be like that?"
He did not raise his voice, nor did he force it with a harsh tone, but there was something in the way he spoke—a subtle vibration that snuck between the sentences—showing just how important that answer was to him.
Abbie finally just let his breath flow out.
His facial expression, which had initially been tense, hard, and full of defense, suddenly withered. His shoulders slumped, making him stand with a slightly hunched posture.
"At first, I thought exactly what you just said."
He bowed his head, staring down with a gaze that was half-empty, half-drowned.
"At first, I thought my life would change—that if someone gave their life to me as well, we could rely on one another… but…"
A bitter smile briefly visited his face—fleeting, fragile, then vanishing, replaced by a grim shadow that stayed longer.
"Never trust humans… even if they are kind."
Abbie raised his face slowly, staring at the short child with a gaze that had lost its spark—eyes that held a story of hope that had once grown, only to be broken.
The short child looked confused once again, as if the world around him had suddenly turned into a puzzle that he could not solve.
He did not understand Abbie's meaning at all, could not read his shifting tone, and could not interpret those gestures and expressions full of contradiction.
With a small but steady step, he moved one step forward, while both his eyes stared at Abbie.
"Abbie… what do you mean?"
"Why are you talking in circles like that?"
"I don't understand what you mean at all."
Abbie sighed again, taking a short pause before his lips finally let out a few words.
"They came to me with charming smiles, as if those smiles carried a light they wanted to share with me."
"They promised to take care of me with full love and affection. Anyone who has ever felt discarded, then suddenly given a hope that bright… wouldn't it be hard to refuse?"
"They gave me everything I never obtained when I was still a stray animal."
"They even gave me a name—something I never thought I could have. They gave me gifts on my birthday, even though I didn't know when or where I was born. But they set that day themselves—the day they found me—as my birthday. They said they were happy to meet me and promised to always be with me."
"I was clearly very happy. I promised myself I would grow into a big, healthy cat and always protect them."
"But… nightmares never play favorites, do they? They come anytime, to anyone…"
He stopped for a moment, before finally bowing his head again while clenching his fists tightly.
"That day, I didn't know why everything changed so fast."
"They suddenly ignored me, as if I had never existed. Not a single bit of their attention was directed at me."
"I thought they were angry, so I tried to apologize. But what I received instead were insults and slurs."
"They said they regretted ever meeting me."
"That I had ruined their lives and made them frustrated."
"I was truly confused. I didn't know what mistake I had made to make them treat me like that."
"As I recall, I was always careful. I always obeyed their orders."
"But the reality was… they truly hated me."
"At that time, I intentionally ran away."
"I chose not to go home, because my heart was wounded."
"I thought they would worry."
"I thought they would look for me."
"But it turned out, no."
"They didn't look for me. They didn't worry about me."
"And when I finally returned… when they saw me, they actually drove me away."
"They hit me with a heavy stick. They kicked me out of the house."
"They called me a disgusting animal—useless, weak, and small."
"Even, right in front of me… they burned everything that once belonged to me."
After that last sentence, Abbie raised his head.
His gaze rose slowly, staring at the short child in front of him—a gaze that carried the ashes of memories, a wound that had become silent, and a story that was finally allowed to escape into the night air.
"To this very second, I never knew the reason behind all of that."
"But one thing is clear—the look in their eyes said it all."
"They didn't want me anymore."
"That's why, I left."
"Leaving everything behind."
"And returning to the place where I was supposed to be."
That bitter smile emerged again on his face, but this time it felt more pungent, sharper, as if every corner of his lips was holding back a long-accumulated sense of exhaustion and disappointment.
The short child fell silent instantly.
His facial expression suddenly went blank, staring without focus, as if Abbie's words had just struck right at the core of his heart, piercing through the layers of thought that he had considered true and solid until now.
He withdrew into his consciousness for a moment, tidying up the scattered shards of his feelings, then his voice was heard again,
"I didn't expect to have to hear all that from you."
He paused, weighing his next words like someone choosing a foothold on fragile ground, then continued with a heart still searching for a grip.
"But… they must have had their reasons, right? It's impossible for them to just change like that without a cause."
He tried to stand on the side of explanation, patching the gaps with assumptions.
"Did they ever see you transform into a human?"
"If that's the case, maybe that was the reason. Maybe they changed because they felt afraid."
"Just imagine—a cat that suddenly turns into a human."
"Especially when they never knew that they were living side-by-side with shapeshifters like us. Creatures who have feelings… just like humans. Creatures whose existence is unknown, except to fellow shapeshifters."
This time, it was Abbie who turned to stone.
His body flinched subtly, as if a flash of realization had struck right behind his eyes. After a brief pause that felt longer than it should have, he simply let his breath fall.
"I never transformed into a human while I was with them."
"If I had…"
"Perhaps they would have killed me even sooner, thinking I was some kind of monster—wouldn't they?"
Meanwhile, the short child fell silent again. His gaze drifted in random directions, as if he were reassembling his own beliefs, retrying the knots that had started to loosen.
A few seconds later, his eyes found Abbie again.
"But… not all humans are like that, right? There must be humans who are much better than your owner."
His tone tried to be soothing, but he himself was the one starting to falter.
"You know the places that take in many abandoned animals? Or… if I heard correctly, the name is an animal shelter."
"In there, so many animals like us are abandoned, yet they are cared for by some humans."
"Doesn't that mean not all humans are evil? There must be good ones, and animal shelters are the proof."
This time, his tone seemed to carry a glimmer of light, even though he was equally unsure of what he was saying.
Abbie sank back into silence.
His gaze dropped downward, avoiding the eyes of the short child which radiated a strange spark—a spark that secretly touched a fragile space in his chest, a place where hope had once dared to breathe.
But, for a moment, the memories surged back.
The memory of his old owner, of treatment that was never kind, of words and actions that left scars, made Abbie shake his head slowly.
He raised his gaze.
"I… cannot fully accept your explanation yet."
"I'm scared. If they treat me the same as my previous owner, I wouldn't be able to experience it a second time."
"That pain… it's too painful."
"Therefore, it's better for me to be hated from the start than to feel their kindness first, only to be hated one day without any reason."
His tone grew even more faint, almost like a voice choking in his own throat. The words that came out felt heavy, forced, even though his heart was already exhausted.
"About the animal shelter you mentioned… I've heard of it too."
"But that place is not for us—the shapeshifters."
"Even if they take in abandoned animals, the moment we let our guard down and transform into humans, everything could end terribly."
"There is no guarantee they would continue to care for us after knowing who we truly are."
"Besides, we cannot live as cats or dogs forever. There comes a time when we must return to being human."
"If not, it's not just our consciousness that slowly vanishes—this body will be tortured as well."
"And if that is allowed for too long, we could die."
"You know that, don't you?"
Again and again, the short child fell silent, his eyes staring at Abbie with full attention.
His silence was not because he didn't understand, but because Abbie's words—though faint, though stumbling in some parts—turned out to be sensible, logical, and difficult to refute.
"You're right..."
He paused for a moment, allowing the air to fill his chest cavity, then continued with a gaze that was now deeper, as if wanting to touch something behind Abbie's eyes.
"Then… do you hate humans now, Abbie?"
"Have you truly lost hope that one day, there will be a human who is sincere with you?"
"After hearing your story, I still want to hope. Because this world… it's impossible for it to have completely lost all sincere people, right?"
At the end of that sentence, a thin smile was born—fragile yet warm. A tiny smile resembling a lamp in a dark corridor, carrying prayers uttered without sound, as well as an awareness of the bitter reality that lurked.
And now, it was Abbie's turn to fall silent once again.
He did not know what he truly wanted at this moment; his mind had been like a silent battlefield all this time.
On one side, Abbie felt an urge not to completely hate humans.
There was the memory of the warmth he had once felt. However, in another corner of his heart, there was a hatred that was slowly growing—sharp and painful. A hatred toward the treatment of humans who had left scars behind.
Finally, with a long breath, Abbie sighed again—as if trying to calm the storm within him.
"I do—"
The sentence was cut off halfway, when suddenly, the melody of a song was heard echoing through the corridor.
Don't close your eyes
Look toward me
I will grant your every wishes
Don't waste your time
Come here
Sit with me beneath the moonlight
And I will whisper something to you...
"You are mine, forever."