The last thing I remembered was a cat.
After finishing work late into the night, I was dragging my exhausted body home.
Barely fighting off the sleepiness that poured over me, I managed to put one foot in front of the other.
Home was not far now.
It happened in front of the traffic light near my house.
The pedestrian signal had definitely been red.
A truck was charging toward me from far off, terrifyingly fast, with no sign of slowing down,
and in the driver’s seat, which flashed past my sight in that brief instant, the driver’s eyes were half-closed.
The headlights wavered before my eyes, spreading through the rainwater like spilled light.
That was when it happened.
I saw a cat crossing the crosswalk.
I had always liked cats.
I even kept one at home.
Was that why?
The moment I saw that tiny life on the verge of death, I couldn’t think of anything else.
My body, which had been screaming for rest only moments ago, moved with a strange lightness.
The fatigue, the drowsiness, the pain weighing down my entire body—at least in that moment, I felt none of it.
I ran.
And by a hair’s breadth, I pulled the cat into my arms.
The next moment.
With a deafening crash, my body was flung into the air.
That was my last memory.
And yet what now lay before my eyes was not asphalt, nor buildings, nor the faint lights of the city.
It was a forest.
And not just any forest.
A forest that seemed to have been tended for long years, as if to honor someone.
Centered around where I was, a wide clearing spread out like a dome, and dense trees stood all around its edge like walls.
An uncanny silence.
Even the sound of leaves brushing in the wind was cautious.
As if one must not make a sound carelessly in this place.
“……”
I blinked blankly, trying to make sense of the situation.
I had definitely been hit by a truck while saving a cat.
In that case, I should have died.
And yet when I opened my eyes, I was in a forest.
Was this a dream?
Right after that thought crossed my mind, I unconsciously looked down at my own hand.
“……?”
It wasn’t a hand.
Not a human hand, but an animal’s forepaw.
I froze, then turned that paw over.
There were paw pads.
Not the smooth, squishy, jelly-like paw pads of a cat, but small, round pads half-buried between silver fur.
A paw covered in fur that looked soft, yet firm like that of a wild animal.
‘……Wait.’
My mind couldn’t keep up.
Slowly, very slowly, I turned around.
And I saw them.
There were tails.
Not one, not two.
Nine.
Nine silver tails, shining beautifully as if they held moonlight, were swaying quietly behind me.
‘……This.’
I looked down at my frozen forepaw, then back at the tails.
And only very belatedly did I realize it.
‘I’m not human.’
I had become a gumiho.