6) Curio Reclamation Operation
The last Wednesday of every month was Family Day, so school ended at two in the afternoon. The teacher said anyone who wanted could stay behind for self-study, but as if on cue, the students all sprang to their feet at once.
“Hey, Yoo Jaeho! You’re going to the PC café, right?”
Jaeho stood up and started packing his bag, and his friends crowded around him.
“Didn’t you go to the PC café the day before yesterday and yesterday? What kind of third-year goes to a PC café more often than hitting the books?”
“So you’re not coming?”
“I can’t today. There’s a pop quiz tomorrow. And no one’s home today, so I have to feed Lili.”
“Damn, you really started studying hard now that you’re a senior. Who’s Lili?”
“Jaeho’s cat. Cute as hell.”
“Fuck, then yeah, you gotta feed her.”
“Just feed her and come to the PC café after. You’re making lame excuses.”
Most of them seemed convinced—but not everyone. Byeongho, who’d been close with Jaeho since they were kids, looked hurt that Jaeho hadn’t been hanging out lately.
“Stop asking Yoo Jaeho. This asshole’s ditched us for days in a row.”
Jaeho lightly tapped his sulking friend on the shoulder.
“I’ll go tomorrow. Promise.”
“Shut up. Get lost.”
“Okay. Then I won’t go tomorrow either.”
“Hey! Why? You just promised you’d go!”
Another friend teased Byeongho, asking if he had short-term memory loss, and the group burst into laughter.
“If we don’t hurry, there won’t be any seats. Let’s fucking run. I’m going. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Just like when they’d gathered around him, they all poured out of the classroom at once. Jaeho finished packing his bag and left the room.
Even walking slowly, it only took ten minutes to get home from school. Before he even opened the gate to the detached house, he heard cats crying—nyaang, nyaang. Not just one, but two.
“The red one’s back again.”
Jaeho chuckled and turned the key. As expected, in the narrow yard, an orange cat and a red cat were play-fighting together. The orange one was Lili, the Korean Shorthair Jaeho raised, and the red one was a neighborhood stray.
This stray cat, nicknamed ‘the red one’ by Jaeho’s family because of its unusually vivid red fur, had first appeared a few months ago. Judging by the collar around its neck, it was an abandoned pet. Its temperament was gentle and affectionate. When Jaeho first saw how instantly it and Lili adored each other, he’d found it fascinating—now, seeing its face just made him think, You again.
“What kind of breed are you, anyway?”
At first, he’d thought some cruel human had dyed its fur, but the red color was natural. He’d posted photos online asking about the breed, but got no answers—only a flood of questions asking what neighborhood he lived in. Jaeho had concluded it was probably just a mixed breed.
“And how did you get out again, Lili? Did you open the window again? What if you run away and get lost? You should just stay inside and play.”
“Nyaang.”
“Aeaeng.”
The two cats lay side by side, bellies up, lifting only their heads to mewl softly. Jaeho let out a hollow laugh.
“Yeah. Thanks for reacting. Come on in. I’ll feed you.”
As if they understood him, the cats sprang up and trotted after him.
When Jaeho set down the food bowl, Lili shoved her face in and chomped away. The red one rubbed its face once against the back of Jaeho’s hand before starting to eat. It always did that—its own way of saying thanks. A smart little guy.
“You guys have it good. You don’t have to study.”
As he stroked the small, round, soft cats, Jaeho poured out his grievances.
Now that he was a senior, there were tests every day. He wasn’t even going to an academy or getting tutoring, and keeping up with the material was exhausting. He had a nosebleed yesterday. He still had to live like this for eight more months—what the hell was he supposed to do? Jaeho’s complaints showed no sign of stopping.
“Tomorrow’s pop quiz even counts toward our GPA. I’m so stressed I’m losing my mind. I want to live like you guys—eat when it’s time, sleep when it’s time, eat again when it’s time.”
“Aeaeng.”
The red one paused mid-meal and lifted its head. Lili’s yellow eyes looked at Jaeho with an expression that seemed to say, ‘Why are you picking a fight while I’m eating?’ Jaeho suddenly wondered what he was even doing.
“I’m not giving you treats that easily. These days, even cats have to be smart to survive. Got it?”
Jaeho took out two cat items. They were functional toys said to help with feline brain development—puzzle-like devices where treats were placed inside, forcing the cat to use its head to get them out.
To keep them from fighting, he put treats into both toys and set them down. As always, Lili just sniffed at it and couldn’t manage to get anything out. The red one, however, was using the toy for the first time—and yet, as if it had done it dozens of times before, it deftly tapped with its soft paw—tuduk, tuk—and quickly extracted the treat.
“Whoa. What the hell. You’re smart.”
“Aeng.”
“Hey, teach our dumb-but-kind Lili how to do it. Don’t hog it.”
“Aeaeng.”
The red one licked its front paw and gave a half-hearted reply.
“Lili, watch how your friend does it and learn something. Don’t just lick your paw.”
“Nyaang.”
Good grief. Jaeho vigorously rubbed Lili’s head in encouragement and went into his room.
By the time he noticed, it was already night, and Jaeho was starting to get hungry. Normally his parents would’ve brought him a snack by now, but both of them were on business trips today. Thinking he’d just make some ramen, Jaeho stepped out of his room.
“Nyaaang.”
“Aeaeng. Eung.”
“Nyang?”
“Aeng-aeng!”
The red cat was still in the living room. It was sitting in front of the treat puzzle, and it honestly looked like it was teaching Lili how to do it. Jaeho found it so funny and adorable that he quietly pulled out his phone and hid.
“Nyaa. Nyang-nyang? Nyang.”
“Aeaeng….”
The red one let out a deep sigh, hunched its neck, and scrubbed its head with its front paws—kushikushi. Watching closely, Jaeho saw something go tuk and fall to the floor.
It was a cat collar. A common leather collar with an adjustable strap.
The red one picked up the collar in its mouth and put it around Lili’s neck.
No way. That’s possible?
Jaeho stared, eyes wide. It was amazing enough that the cat had taken off its own collar—but putting it on another cat was even more unbelievable.
Then something even more astonishing happened.
“Nyaang. Nyang!”
Lili suddenly started moving her front paws with quick, precise motions, popping treats out of the puzzle—chak chak chak.
Lili—the kind but dumb Lili!
“W-What? How did you do that?”
“Aeaeng!”
Not realizing Jaeho was watching, the red one jumped in surprise. It sprang upright, stood on two legs, and tried to take the collar off Lili—but Jaeho was faster.
“What’s on this collar?”
Jaeho easily removed the collar and placed it on his palm to examine it. It looked completely ordinary.
“Aeaeng, aeng, aeng.”
The red one circled him frantically in a panic.
Just in case, Jaeho took out more treats, put them into the puzzle again, and had Lili try once more. But Lili only sniffed at it and pawed clumsily a few times—she couldn’t do it like before.
“Aeaeng, aeaeng.”
The red one finally climbed up Jaeho’s leg, trying to snatch the collar from his hand. Jaeho shook the red one off and hurried back into his room. He could hear scratching at the door—skrrrk, skrrrk.
“Holy shit…. What is this? What’s going on….”
Does wearing this suddenly make you smart?
No way.
But… what if…?
Thinking it was ridiculous, Jaeho brought the strap up to his wrist anyway.
***
“Woo-woo. Woo. Woo-woo.”
“Right. You want to dye your Mongdu blue—the trendy color in Mongdu lately.”
“Woo.”
“But your Mongdu is already in tatters. Look at this fabric. It’s so worn that it won’t withstand dye. It’d be better to make a new Mongdu altogether.”
“Woo-woo-woo….”
“When was the last time it was replaced?”
“Woo.”
The large Wia, its entire head draped in cloth, shook slightly as if searching its memory. Dojin found it fascinating how Iri understood every one of those ‘woo-woos’. When he’d once asked how Iri communicated with Wia that couldn’t speak human language, Iri had said he understood by feeling.
Dojin was still a long way from reaching that level.
“Woo-woo.”
“Thirty-nine years ago.”
“Huh? Thirty-nine years ago isn’t that long ago. Guess it was made with some cheap-ass fabric back then.”
“Woo.”
“It was your mother’s keepsake.”
“…….”
Realizing he’d butted in for no reason, Dojin bowed apologetically to Mongduyo and left the consultation room.
While Dojin inspected curios for the next reservation and worked on various tasks, the consultation ended and Mongduyo fluttered out. Mongduyo’s body had no limbs—just long sheets of cloth that hung and swayed. With a round face covered in fabric, floating gently in the air, it resembled a Western-style ghost with a snowman-like face.
“Woo-woo.”
“Alright. Come back the day after tomorrow. Goodbye.”
“Woo.”
After Mongduyo left, Dojin asked,
“So what did you decide?”
“We’re dyeing it a vivid red.”
“Oh, you’re not making a new Mongdu?”
“No. Since it’s a keepsake, I think it wants to preserve it.”
Iri wrote on a memo pad.
The required curio: ‘Docheryak’.
The required materials: mineral water, red Gugoin peel, Fire Cat fur….
“I know where red Gugoin live, but where do Fire Cats live?”
“Not far from here. And anyway, it’s almost time to return the curio so—ah.”
Iri suddenly stopped speaking. Dojin looked at him, puzzled. Iri was staring out the window with an equally puzzled expression.
“What is it? Is there something outside?”
“Dojin. There’s a customer lingering in front of the gate. Go bring them in. If they try to run, chase them down and catch them, no matter what.”
“…Yes!”
Dojin didn’t really understand, but with the same mindset he’d had before his Taoist duel with Gangnim Herald, he charged out with vigor.
Who the hell was outside? A thief?!
He flung the gate open wide—and something red flinched.
A… aeaeng.
A red-furred cat blinked in surprise and gave an awkward greeting.
