A few hours later, the place Bae Jung-yoon brought Go Hoon to was none other than an animal hospital. Of course, the journey there had been anything but smooth.
“Kkongddeok-i, we need to go to the hospital.”
Thanks to Bae Jung-yoon’s overly kind but blunt honesty, Go Hoon quickly figured out their destination—and naturally, he resisted with all his might. He wasn’t some cripple. What kind of idiot would willingly follow someone to the hospital in this state, not knowing what might happen to them once they got there?
Strictly speaking, he wasn’t even an ordinary cat. He’d been born with a human body—a full-fledged person. Sure, things had gone completely off the rails overnight, but that fact hadn’t changed.
What if the vet noticed something was off with his body compared to other cats? What if they tried to send him off to some shady laboratory? And if things spiraled from there, what if he ended up as a subject for horrifying live experiments?
His mind became overrun with gruesome, nightmarish scenarios. He’d never considered himself that imaginative, but the images flooding his head were terrifying enough to make him question that.
And so Go Hoon fought tooth and nail. He sprinted around the apartment, doing everything he could to avoid Bae Jung-yoon’s grasp. But after running until sweat practically formed on his paw pads, he was once again forced to acknowledge a harsh truth—cats cannot defeat humans. Especially not inside a house with no place to run or hide.
In the end, Go Hoon was captured from underneath the bedroom desk. Even as he was firmly caught in Bae Jung-yoon’s large hands, he refused to give up. He dug in his claws and clung desperately to the living room sofa, flailing as if his life depended on it.
“Aeeaowooong!”
He let out a mournful, drawn-out wail.
The fact that he was currently tearing up a multi-million-won, expensive cowhide leather sofa with his sharp claws didn’t matter to Go Hoon at all. Not only did he have no idea how much it cost, but even if he did—at that moment, nothing was more urgent than ensuring his own survival.
Once his death grip on the sofa was pried loose, Go Hoon was immediately shoved into a carrier, loaded into Bae Jung-yoon’s car, and kept crying the entire way to the animal hospital’s parking lot, clawing at the metal bars.
“Aowng, aaang─.”
Bae Jung-yoon may not have understood, but half of those cries were curses.
“Yeah. Scared? Got it. Once we finish the check-up and go home, I’ll give you something tasty, okay? Just hang in there a little longer, Kkongddeok-i.”
Of course, Bae Jung-yoon, completely incapable of understanding cat language, just kept talking to himself.
“Aaang. Aeowoong─.”
No, you fucking bastard. Turn this damn car around!
“Oh, oh. We’re almost there. I know it’s tight in there, Kkongddeok-i, but just hang on a bit more, okay? Good boy.”
Thus continued their back-and-forth, like sword and shield, until at last they arrived at the animal hospital.
—You have arrived at your destination.
The soft, polite voice of the navigation system chimed as the car came to a halt. There was the click of a door opening and closing, and then Go Hoon felt the carrier shift and lift. The rocking motion stopped as it was set down somewhere.
Go Hoon darted his eyes anxiously around. He should have tried to escape before it got to this point. Regret always came too late, but still—he regretted it.
He curled himself up as small as possible and remained on high alert. Bae Jung-yoon had draped a bath towel over the outside of the carrier, leaving the interior dim and shadowy. Although to Go Hoon’s eyes it looked bright as day, it was no use—he couldn’t see outside.
“Uuuung…”
Go Hoon let out a low, rumbling growl, a sound that conveyed both his irritation and a warning—don’t touch me. It was also a defense mechanism to keep anyone from realizing just how terrified he was.
Back when he was human, he’d never been particularly afraid of anything—he’d always been pretty stoic. But now that he’d become a delicate little cat, every minor change made his nerves spike. He could feel sweat forming on his paw pads. Strange smells assaulted his nose from every direction, each more unfamiliar than the last. His ears twitched sharply, rotating 180 degrees at the slightest sound.
Everything felt overwhelming, magnified. It was the first time he’d ever been this high-strung, and even he was taken aback by his own hypersensitivity. He kept his eyes wide and focused straight ahead, when suddenly he heard the soft rustle of the towel being lifted above his head.
“Kkongddeok-i.”
At the sound of his name, Go Hoon looked up. The stark white light of the hospital poured through the carrier’s metal bars. Beyond that stood Bae Jung-yoon, and the realization that he was the only person he could rely on in this situation felt absolutely fucking miserable. After all, this asshole was the one who had dragged him here in the first place.
“You nervous?”
“Eeeng.”
Wouldn’t you be nervous? Just a few days ago, I was a damn human. And now I’m at an animal hospital for a check-up?
Go Hoon packed all his resentment into a pointed whine of discontent.
When he was still human, even if he had the flu and was burning up with a fever for days, he’d refuse to go to the hospital just to save money. And now look at him—rolling up to an animal clinic for a medical exam in this pathetic state. It was so absurd it made him want to laugh and cry at the same time.
He couldn’t believe this was his life. He had zero sense of reality anymore. The thought “This can’t be right.” kept looping through his mind, but once he realized there was nothing he could do, he began to feel… oddly resigned. Like enlightenment was just around the corner.
How long had he been staring off into space like that? Eventually, his name was called.
“Guardian of Kkongddeok-i.”
“Yes.”
“You can head into the exam room now.”
Go Hoon furrowed his brow. No matter how many times he heard it, that cutesy name still didn’t sit right with him. Kkongddeok-i, seriously? It stripped away every ounce of masculinity. It felt like a psychological castration. Scowling, he was carried in his carrier straight into the exam room, without even a chance to resist.
“Hello.”
“Yes, hello, Doctor.”
After exchanging a few pleasantries with the vet, Bae Jung-yoon began explaining the circumstances under which he had found the cat.
There was nothing special about it. It was a typical, commonplace story: late at night, on his way home, he came across a fluffy cat on the street with no owner in sight, so he decided to take it home.
“Has he eaten anything since then?”
“No, I gave him some kibble, but he wouldn’t touch it. Just drank a bit of water.”
“Hmm, I see. Okay, let’s take a look at our little friend here.”
After a bit of quiet conversation, the towel was pulled back. Then the top of the carrier popped open entirely. Flooded with harsh light, Go Hoon shrank even further into the corner, his body looking more pitiful than ever.
With wide, black pupils, he glanced up warily at his surroundings. The vet was a big man—probably in his 40s—with a warm expression. His large hands reached in, gently lifting Go Hoon out of the carrier and placing him on the exam table.
“Aw, you’re scared, huh?”
Whether he noticed how stiff and tense the body was or not, the vet—reeking of disinfectant—spoke in a kind voice. At the same time, he used skillful, gentle hands to rub under Go Hoon’s chin and around his nape, trying to calm him down.
The exam table must’ve had a heating pad underneath, because a warm sensation touched his rear. The comforting heat gradually loosened his stiff muscles.
“He’s a Ragdoll.”
The vet seemed to recognize his breed at a glance. Ragdoll? What the hell is that? Go Hoon had barely finished thinking when Bae Jung-yoon asked the question for him.
“So he’s a purebred?”
“Yes. Ragdoll—very gentle temperament, highly sociable. As you can see, very pretty too. The name ‘Ragdoll’ actually comes from their tendency to go limp like a stuffed doll when picked up.”
Being described as pretty made Go Hoon feel extremely uncomfortable. Sure, when he first looked in the mirror, he had thought something similar. But hearing it from someone else’s mouth was a whole different story. The quiet gaze Bae Jung-yoon gave him, as if agreeing silently, was just as irritating.
The vet brought his face close, checking Go Hoon’s eyes and flipping his ears back to examine his exterior.
“You said you found him on the street?”
“Yes.”
“With cats like this—especially purebreds—it’s more likely they’re indoor pets than strays. He looks very clean, so he might belong to someone. Let’s check for an implanted registration chip first.”
“What’s a registration chip?”
“There’s a pet registration system that stores owner information in a tiny chip implanted in the animal. For dogs, registration is mandatory, but for cats it’s only recommended, so there’s a high chance he might not have one. Still, it’s best to check—if he does have a chip, we can trace the owner’s information.”
While the vet gave his long-winded explanation, Bae Jung-yoon’s eyes shifted back to Go Hoon. The stillness in that gaze felt like it was silently asking, You had an owner?
Of course, true or not, Go Hoon couldn’t give any kind of answer.
“Let’s check now.”
The vet brought over a flat, broad device and scanned various parts of Go Hoon’s body, letting out a thoughtful hmm as he went.
“No chip.”
“So he doesn’t have an owner?”
“Well, even if someone owns a pet, they don’t always register them. So I can’t say for certain.”
With an awkward laugh, the vet held Go Hoon’s face with both hands and began inspecting him again.
“Hmm, no matter how you look at it, he doesn’t seem like a stray. He’s way too well-groomed…”
Hearing the man mutter to himself, Go Hoon snorted internally.
‘Of course I’m well-groomed—I used to be human.’ And this guy calls himself a vet? Shouldn’t he have noticed right away that something was off? How could he not tell he was different from other cats? What a goddamn quack.
His earlier panic about potential lab experiments had completely evaporated. Now he was just annoyed, glaring at the man with undisguised irritation.
“Alright, let’s begin the basic check-up.”
The full exam started with weighing him. Then the vet inspected his eyes, nose, teeth, and gums in order, followed by a stethoscope pressed to his chest. Eventually, it was time to check his ears. The cold instrument that entered his ear canal sent a sharp jolt down his spine, making his body instinctively curl up.
“Ears are nice and clean. Nothing abnormal.”
That part had gone okay. But if he had to pick the absolute worst moment of the check-up—
—it was, without question, when they stuck a cotton swab up his asshole.
