BANG— BANG—
The same man who might as well be called this summer’s most persistent visitor had shown up yet again: the debt collector.
Last week, he’d arrived with a gang of burly, tattooed men, lining them up like folding screens and thrusting a contract in Haram’s face. When that failed, he returned a few days later bearing a fruit basket and a set of fancy nuts, trying his hand at persuasion.
Today, it seemed, was intimidation’s turn again.
Haram, lounging on the wooden floor of the hanok, was crunching on almonds while gazing up at the clear blue sky when the thunderous banging on the front gate jolted him upright. Scowling, he turned a sharp glare toward the door.
BANG— BANG—
“Haram-ah!”
“Haaahhh…”
Who would’ve guessed he’d grow a strange sort of attachment—even resentment-tinged affection—to that debt collector’s voice? Sighing deeply, he stood up, dragging his slippers across the sunlit yard, and opened the gate.
“Changed your mind today?”
The man greeted him shamelessly, holding a cheap handheld fan in one hand that didn’t suit him in the slightest. Haram couldn’t stop the sigh from escaping his lips. Fixing the man with a sharp look, he replied curtly.
“No.”
At the flat refusal, the man bumped the fan up to high and muttered under his breath, head lowered.
“Unbelievable. You’re really something.”
Unbelievable? Who was the one pestering him nonstop, day after day?
Frustrated by the man’s muttering, Haram finally snapped.
“Could you please stop coming here?”
“I’ll stop when you stamp the contract.”
The man shoved the document in his face again, thick with dense black text. Haram leaned back with a scowl and said bluntly, unable to mask his irritation:
“You’re… not cut out for farming.”
This pot bellied man clearly had no clue how much grit it took to survive off agriculture. Haram hadn’t said it to insult him—he genuinely meant it. But that only seemed to set the man off.
“You little bastard!”
The sharp shout made Haram flinch and hunch his shoulders slightly, but he didn’t back down.
“D-Do you even know how tough peanut farming is? One moment of distraction and raccoons or birds wipe everything out. If the monsoon drags on, they rot from disease. And then…”
Even as he hesitated, Haram began ticking off his fingers, one by one, listing all the disasters that had struck the peanut crops over the years.
The debt collector, who’d been silently listening, suddenly let out another heavy sigh and drooped his head even lower. Then he turned off the fan, leaned in close, and began whispering in Haram’s ear.
Startled by the sudden intimacy, Haram instinctively gripped the hem of his white T-shirt and held his breath.
“This is top secret… Don’t you dare tell the old folks in town.”
“…What is it?”
“They’re going to bulldoze that little mountain back there, clear out all the surrounding fields, and build a resort.”
A resort? In this remote countryside? Flatten a mountain to make room for it? How enormous was this thing supposed to be?
The idea of clearing out the farmland and leveling the mountain made Haram’s stomach turn. That was the forest he’d grown up playing in—no, flying through.
“…So?”
If this was such a secret, why tell him? He looked up at the man warily, only to see him puff up with pride like he was bestowing a generous gift.
“You should up your asking price. Trust me, they’ll pay more. That’s all you need to do—just sell. If you wait for redevelopment or whatever down the line, they’ll pay you half. I swear on it. You trust me, right?”
As if.
Where was this man’s confidence even coming from?
The amount already offered had been laughably large. Haram had assumed it was just posturing, but now… he wasn’t so sure.
Just who was this guy and that bespectacled man from last time, going around buying up land for a future resort? Wasn’t this guy supposed to be just a debt collector?
As the man held out the contract again like everything was now neatly resolved, Haram stared at it in silence before slowly shaking his head.
“I’m still not selling.”
At those words, the debt collector’s arm dropped limply to his side, the contract fluttering in the wind. He stood there, speechless for a moment, then muttered:
“You really are… a complete idiot.”
The genuine disbelief in his voice and the way his jaw hung slightly open made Haram waver. Am I really that stupid?
But the thought passed quickly. He knew what he wanted.
He had no desire to sell the peanut field. And he certainly didn’t want some resort popping up in his peaceful village.
With a polite bow to the stunned man, Haram turned back inside, his soft silvery tail swaying gently behind him.
He’d probably be back tomorrow.
How long was the debt collector supposed to keep repeating himself like this? Until he gave in?
“…Maybe I should just hide for a while.”
Even when he’d been in debt, not once had he gone into hiding. He’d worked hard with his grandmother, paying it off bit by bit.
Now he was free—and somehow he still had to consider hiding, just for refusing to sell his own land. It was absurd.
Sprawled out on the wooden floor, Haram brushed his silver bangs out of his eyes and let the sound of cicadas wash over him from every direction.
And for the first time, he found himself thinking—Maybe I really should disappear into the deepest part of the mountains.
***
Haram scanned the densely wooded area, eyes alert as he studied each tree with care. When he spotted one with a hollow right at eye level, he dashed toward it without hesitation.
Peering inside, he saw that the hollow was deep and wide enough to serve as shelter. From his backpack, he pulled out a thin blanket and spread it across the bottom of the hollow. Then, taking a handful of chestnuts, pine nuts, and peanuts, he piled them neatly in one corner. A soft, empty syrup bottle—repurposed as a water container—joined the stash inside the hollow.
With his perfect little nest complete, Haram hid his backpack in the crevice of a nearby boulder, then stood upright. The moment he did, his human form vanished in an instant, and something began to stir beneath the clothes he’d left behind.
A silver-gray flying squirrel emerged from beneath the heap of garments, darting up the tree trunk and disappearing into the hollow.
It’s warm. And cozy.
He was completely satisfied. When he’d first made the decision to escape the bothersome debt collector and live in the mountains for a month, he’d been full of worries. But now that he was here, everything felt right.
He pulled a peanut from the stash, tucked it into one cheek, then crawled out of the hollow and climbed higher into the tree. Perched on a high branch, he scanned the surrounding woods. Picking a direction, he leapt into the open air and spread his limbs wide.
The patagium—thin membrane stretching between his front and hind legs—allowed him to glide rather than fall. It had been a long time since he’d flown like this, and his already-light body felt even more weightless in the air.
He sliced through the crisp scent of wet leaves and landed smoothly on a sturdy branch. Settling down, he began to crunch the peanut he’d stashed in his cheek.
Suddenly, a bird, drawn by the smell of peanuts, flitted over and hopped along the branch toward him. Sensing the threat, Haram flared out his body and fluffed up his silvery fur. The bird startled and took off in a panic.
Peanuts were not up for sharing. Once a single bird got a taste of his family’s peanuts, it would invite every cousin and second cousin in the forest to clean out the entire crop.
With each bite of peanut, Haram’s puffed cheek twitched and his small, cherry-pink tongue flicked out—a silent, satisfied expression of his mood. If it weren’t for the peanut harvest in autumn, he could’ve stayed in the mountains for months without complaint.
It felt like he was finally getting the peaceful break he’d long deserved.
***
RUMMMBLE—
A thunderclap, the kind you usually only hear in horror films, shattered the stillness of the forest. The booming noise tore through the early morning silence like a cruel punch to his fleeting freedom.
Rain came down in thick, relentless sheets the moment dawn broke. Huddled deep in the corner of his hollow, Haram let out a quiet sigh.
He’d been planning a bold nighttime glide through the trees—but now, with rain pouring from a sky that hadn’t even hinted at bad weather, all motivation had vanished. It wasn’t even monsoon season, yet the downpour was torrential.
As he stretched out on the blanket, sulking, a sharp, metallic scent pierced through the curtain of rain.
His soft, pale-pink nose twitched. His body reacted before his mind could catch up.
He poked his head out of the hollow and scanned the forest below. But he saw nothing that could be bleeding. With rain falling this hard, he couldn’t just rush out recklessly.
“Jjik… jjik…”
A chirp—one he made only once or twice a year—escaped from his mouth. That was how conflicted he felt.
After circling the edge of the hollow for a few moments, Haram finally stepped out and began to climb down the trunk. He could’ve flown, but didn’t feel up to it. Then again, walking across the cold, squishy ground soaked with rain wasn’t exactly appealing either.
Still, he followed the scent, nose twitching, hopping across the soggy earth as fat raindrops smacked down on his head, echoing painfully through his skull.
Eventually, he reached the source of the smell.
Someone was lying there. A man, his dark hair drenched and plastered to his face.
Startled, Haram leapt back with wide, blinking eyes. He’d been expecting to find a wounded deer—or maybe a wild animal. But this… this was a person.
The shock nearly knocked him off balance. Steadying himself, he scrambled over and frantically examined the man.
“Jjik! Jjik!”
He pinched at the man’s cheek with tiny paws no larger than pinky nails, trying to rouse him. But the man’s eyes stayed firmly shut, showing no sign of waking.
Haram leaned in and sniffed. The blood scent was coming from the man’s right forearm.
So that’s what led me here…
He moved closer to the man’s face, pressing his nose to his, and tilted his head—listening for any sign of breath.
