Episode 1: Snowy Alley, Small Breath in a Crumpled Box

Snow began to fall silently from the sky. At first, it seemed like just a few specks of snow fluttering in the wind, but as midnight approached, large, fluffy snowflakes, like cotton candy, poured down, covering the gray winter night sky with white. A steep hillside in Seongbuk-dong, Seoul, at the entrance to a narrow alley filled with old red brick houses. The orange sodium light of the streetlight caught the dancing snowflakes and sparkled like bright orange jewels, and sharp icicles hung from the tin gutter below the eaves like transparent glass windows.

Just below that old lamppost, there was a crumpled box of ramen curled up under the rusty slate eaves, sheltered from the wind. The corners of the box were damp and frayed from last fall's cold rain and harsh wind, and on the outside of the box were the words 'Anseongtangmyeon' written in blurry red letters, showing signs of age. Inside the box, on the floor, was an old red checkered flannel lap blanket that someone had thrown away when they moved. And in the middle of the old blanket, a small, delicate creature was curled up in a ball, breathing quietly.

'butterfly'. It was an old stray cat in an alley whose name I don't even know who gave it to me. Wearing a cheese tabby coat with a subtle mix of golden and dark brown stripes, its fur was puffed out like down from the cold night air, and fine snow flakes blown by the wind glistened like frost on the white fur under its chin. But there was a deep, grievous wound etched on his face that could never be erased. Where the left eye should have been, the eyelid was tightly closed, with a scar as if it had been torn by sharp claws, and only the right eye was shining brightly in the dark like a large, clear emerald gem.

'Lonely one-eyed cat,

I'm wandering the streets again today. In the dark, faded alley,

No one knows the sound of my breathing... on the cold sidewalk blocks

White snow covering itself with white,

Even my small footprints

'It's being erased without a sound.' The butterfly recited a low, cooing sound that resonated deep within its heart as a lullaby. It was a cat-only song that could not be uttered in words, but it contained the arduous life of a stray cat that had to survive on the outskirts of the cold city. The winter in the alleyways of Seongbuk-dong was particularly harsh. The sharp wind unique to the highlands came down the valley of Bukhansan Mountain and fiercely wrapped around the narrow alleys. Every time the wind blew between the brick walls, the rusty tin door creaked loudly, and the electric pole wires whizzed and screamed like the strings of a stringed instrument.

The butterfly curled its body even closer. I took the so-called 'bread baking' position, putting my two front feet deep into my chest, but the chill seeping from the frozen concrete floor penetrated the thin blanket on the bottom of the box and penetrated all the way to my bones.

“Haa... Nyaa...”

A puff of white breath rose from the tip of the butterfly's small nose. The guy quietly blinked his right eye, the only one through which he could see the world. Seeing the world with only one eye meant losing my sense of distance. When my eyes were intact, I could accurately estimate the distance of a sparrow flying over a wall in the distance, or the gap between roofs that I had to jump over, without an error. But since that terrible, bloody winter night three years ago, Butterfly's world has become completely flat. Everything seemed like a flattened shadow.

I felt dizzy when I focused on the nearby electric pole and the lights of Namsan Tower in the distance with only my right eye. I miscalculated the height and often fell off the wall, and dozens of times I got hit by a broom because I didn't realize how close a person's footsteps were while rummaging through a trash bag.

“Hooey! Go away! Where is the monster cat with one eye that is wandering around?”

The harsh voices of the local people passed through Nabi’s ears. To humans, butterflies were just ugly, one-eyed furry beasts. When children saw butterflies, they threw rocks and ran away, and restaurant owners chased them away by pouring hot water on them. To Nabi, the warm touch of people was nothing more than a distant fantasy that she had only heard about in fairy tales in her previous life. Nevertheless, the butterfly could not hate humans. The orange light streaming from the windows of the houses where humans live, the smell of savory soybean paste stew and grilling mackerel filling the alleyways during dinner time, and the cheerful sound of singing coming from the television...

This is because it all felt warm to the butterfly, like an unreachable heavenly scenery. The snow did not stop and grew thicker and thicker. The snow on the alley floor was already well over the height of Butterfly's ankles. The small cat footprints that were clearly printed on the pure white snow field were buried in the falling snowflakes within a few minutes and disappeared without a trace. The butterfly slightly stuck its head out through the gap in the box. A faint carol melody was carried by the wind from a shopping center along the main road in the distance.

'Jingle bells, jingle bells, sonorous bells...'

It was a melody I heard somewhere. Every year around this time, twinkling fairy lights would be hung all over the streets, and trees with green and red ribbons would be erected. christmas. The season when humans show the warmest and happiest expressions of the year. Couples holding hands and smiling passed by on the streets, and children holding their parents' hands skipped around, holding large gift boxes in their arms. But for stray cats, Christmas was just the peak of the harsh winter season. Restaurants closed early, so even the trash cans were frozen solid, and the brothers on the street who could not find food could not overcome the cold and hunger, so they hardened like cold stones overnight.

It was like that last winter too. After Christmas, the tabby cat 'Spotted', who guarded the trash can on the hillside with Butterfly, and the old black cat 'Kamsangi', who was basking in the sun under the wall of the persimmon tree house next door, were no longer seen. Like the snow that melts when spring comes, their little lives quietly disappeared into the darkness of the city.

"Nyaow..."

The butterfly cried softly and licked its front paw. The fur that touched my tongue tasted like cold ice cubes. A pitiful growling sound resounded in my stomach. For two days, I couldn't touch anything except ice chips that fell from the rain gutter. My stomach was aching, but I didn't even have the energy left to go through this blizzard and search through the trash can. The butterfly burrowed deep into the red flannel blanket again. This blanket was the only shelter in the world for the butterfly. It had a musty smell due to the loose hair and dirt, but inside was the body odor that he had been rubbing himself against for the past few months.

When I smelled myself, I felt relieved that I was protected from the dangers of the world, even if I was in a small cardboard box. Faint memories emerged behind my right eyelid as it slowly closed. It was a memory from a long, long time ago, when I was sleeping with my four siblings, sucking the warm milk of my mother cat. The sound of the mother's heartbeat was the most beautiful music in the world, and the brothers' soft down was warmer than a cotton blanket. However, one spring day, a sudden shower followed by the roar of an excavator destroyed the nest, and the fate of the scattered family members became unknown.

Life on the road left alone. Every day was a series of intense survival. I had to avoid attacks from fierce stray cats trying to protect their territory, I had to hold my breath to avoid the headlights of speeding cars, and most of all, I had to avoid the merciless kicks of humans. Then three years ago, that terrible incident occurred. It was a day when a young kitten was surrounded by three wild dogs and was in danger of being torn to death in a demolition village in a local redevelopment area. When Butterfly saw the blood-covered kitten, unable to even scream and trembling, she jumped into the face of the wild dogs without caring for her life.

He bristled the fur all over his body, swung his teeth, and scratched the wild dog's nose. The price was too harsh. The fierce wild dog's sharp teeth and claws crushed the butterfly's face, and its left eyeball exploded, hot blood pouring out. Fortunately, the demolition workers who heard the commotion rushed over and beat the metal pipes to scare away the wild dogs, and the young kitten survived without a scratch and was adopted in the arms of one of the workers. The kitten found a warm home, but all that remained of the butterfly was a permanently closed left eye, a hideously distorted face, and endless loneliness.

'Still... I have no regrets.'

The butterfly quietly closed its eyes. Even though he lost one eye, the fact that he saved a life filled his small heart with pride. No matter how cold and harsh the world is, stray cats also have souls and pride to protect. The wind grew stronger, blowing cold snow powder into the entrance of the box. The butterfly curled up and trembled slightly. I felt my body temperature drop little by little. Sensation at the tips of my ears and tail was becoming dull. I had an instinctive fear that if I fell asleep like this, I might never wake up. Stray cats know. Falling asleep in the cold means death. However, it was very difficult to overcome my eyelids that were becoming increasingly heavy. “Not yet… not yet. He’s still alive…”

The butterfly stood up with difficulty, its chin shaking. I strengthened my four wobbly legs and carefully stuck my head out of the box. On the other side of the alley that had turned completely white, at the bottom corner of the hill, a soft orange light was on. ‘Christmas Pang’, the oldest small bakery in the alleys of Seongbuk-dong. The orange light leaking through the window was blinking warmly like a lighthouse guiding a lost navigator in a pitch-black snowstorm. And along with the light, the sweet and savory smell of bread, carried by the wind, passed the tip of the butterfly's nose. The smell of freshly baked warm butter, the sweet scent of vanilla, and the heavy scent of rye... It was the smell of life that seemed to melt even the frozen soul. The butterfly's clear emerald right eye sparkled toward the light. "Meow..."

The butterfly slowly took its first steps onto the frozen snow. I shuddered at the coldness of the ice touching the jelly soles, but the guy didn't stop. I left the crumpled box and began to walk slowly but steadily towards the bakery at the bottom of the hill where light and warmth awaited me. As the night in Seongbuk-dong deepened, it drowned out the noise of the city and sank into the abyss of the quiet snow country. The white snow that piled up on each steep terraced alley was not just ice crystals. It was like a white bandage in the sky that gently covered the painful wounds of beings living nameless in this dry and busy megacity of Seoul.

Nabi rested her chin on the edge of an old ramen box and quietly caught her breath. Every time the guy's small chest rose and fell, the air inside the box was slightly warmed, then cooled down in the cold outside air. For stray cats, winter nights were an endless test of patience. If you move your body, you burn precious calories, but if you stay still, your blood cools and hardens. On that desperate balance, the butterfly has survived thousands of winter nights.

'Memory is a truly strange thing.'

The butterfly stared into the darkness behind her closed left eyelid. Nothing could be seen in the eyes that had lost their vision, but instead, vivid memories of the past were projected into the darkness like a movie on a silver screen. A long time ago, when I still had two intact eyes,

How wide and brilliant the world was back then. The wings of a flock of yellow butterflies fluttering across the blue sky, the scent of earth rising from the wet asphalt after a summer shower, and the leaves of the ginkgo tree rustling golden under the autumn sunlight... There was a time when my eyes were filled with all those colorful landscapes. But what was more deeply imprinted than all the beauty were the memories of pain for survival. The city did not easily allow stray cats even an inch of sanctuary. Every night, he had to fight bloody territorial battles with other stray cats to protect the food trash can, and in the winter, he had to quench his thirst by biting ice from frozen puddles with his teeth.

One day, I got caught by a heartless restaurant owner and burned the soles of my feet while running away from a shower of boiling hot water. Another day, I was hit in the side by a BB bullet fired by naughty children and suffered for several days without being able to eat.

'But I survived.'

The butterfly consoled itself. The guy's right eye shined like a jewel, reflecting the orange streetlight. Some people call stray cats ‘urban harmful animals’, while others despise them as ‘filthy furry animals’.

Of all the lives created by God, not a single one was born useless. Even a small insect, a single weed on the road, and a one-eyed stray cat named Butterfly were all treading on this earth with their own noble reason for existence. The bells of the cathedral rang softly from afar on Gotaet-gil in Seongbuk-dong. Dang— dang— dang—

Twelve clear bells ringing to signal midnight. The sound of the bell passed through the snow-covered tile roof of a hanok, crossed the red brick wall, and reached the butterfly’s ear. The sound was like a lullaby comforting a little wounded soul. The butterfly covered its nose with its front paws. The blizzard was getting stronger, but a warm ember of life was still burning quietly deep within his heart. Seongbuk-dong (城北洞) is a historic neighborhood steeped in the long history of Seoul. This village, which was formed along the northern wall of Hanyangdoseong during the Joseon Dynasty, was located on a hillside that caught the cold wind blowing beyond the wall.

The narrow alleyways winding along the steep hill were intertwined like a huge maze, and the arduous footsteps of countless ordinary people were engraved on each granite stone step that had been worn and polished by time. Seongbuk-dong on a winter night was particularly quiet. On snowy nights, all the noise in the city would be absorbed into the sound-absorbing snowflakes, and the entire world would be immersed in silence, as if trapped in a giant glass bottle. The only thing that broke the distant silence was the occasional clattering engine of an old village bus passing through the alley, and the rustling sound of wheels with chains rolling against the snow.

The butterfly rested its chin on the edge of an old ramen box and listened to the sounds. Although its left eye was tightly closed and there was only darkness, its two pointed ears were rotating 360 degrees, breaking down all the sounds of the city into three dimensions and drawing a map in its brain. At 15 degrees to the left, there was the dull sound of piles of snow falling on the old tin roof. At 30 degrees to the right, there is a subtle electrical hum emitted by a utility pole transformer. And far away on the main road at the bottom of the hill, you can hear the stumbling footsteps and coughing sounds of drunk people returning home late at night.

'For a one-eyed cat, the world is a place seen with ears.'

The butterfly muttered in her mind. People only believe in what they see and judge everything based on that,

The truest and most important things in the world are often hidden away and hidden from view. The faint scent of fabric softener emanating from the red flannel blanket on the bottom of the box. It seemed as if the body heat of a stranger who had once fallen into a sweet sleep under this blanket was still seeping into the crevices of the stitches. The butterfly slowly fell into deep meditation as it smelled that old memory. Born as a street cat, he experienced numerous threats and hunger,

Just being alive, just being able to breathe with my heart beating strong even on this harsh night.

The guy was thankful to the entire universe. The silence that filled the alley sometimes contained more stories than thunder. The butterfly curled its chin and quietly closed its eyes, focusing all its attention on the temperature of the air passing by its skin and the subtle vibrations tickling its ears. To the human eye, it may just appear as a cold and desolate winter alley,

In the world of stray cats, this alley was the stage of a huge epic where countless lives and deaths, encounters and separations intersected. The wind blowing under the eaves carried different scents. The sour-sweet scent of rotting red persimmons in the yard of the persimmon tree house a few doors away,

The bitter scent of grass emanating from the leaves of the silver sandalwood tree planted in the garden of a rich man on a hill,

And even the acrid, rustic, gray smell that rises when the briquette ash breaks down and scatters on the snow in the alley... Butterfly separated all the scents one by one and organized them one by one into the storage box of her memories. These were not just smells, but signposts and precious friends for survival through the harsh season. 'The lonely stray cat's night is long and deep. But the deeper the darkness

The dawn light will shine even brighter...' The butterfly quietly brought its front paws together to appease the hunger in its stomach. Hunger ate away at my body, but I couldn't let it devour my soul. I remembered an old story my mother cat told me when I was young. There was a legend that when a cat fell in love with a human, God would light on that cat the lamp of his soul, the most precious of the nine lives. It is said that the lamp helps people not get lost in the dark and has miraculous powers that can melt even the coldest ice in the world. “Do I also have a light like that?”

The butterfly placed its front paw in the middle of its chest. Thump, thump, thump. A slow but heavy heartbeat. Although he was a street vagabond who lost one eye and lived with a hideous wound,

In that small heart, an earnest fire that wanted to give warmth to someone was still alive and breathing. Heavy snow was continuously falling from the sky, covering the roof of the old ramen box like a white and cozy cotton blanket. The alleys of Seongbuk-dong in the winter had the slow breath of time, as if a pendulum had stopped. The orange sodium street lights hanging between the red brick walls quietly embraced the snowflakes, like a lonely lighthouse illuminating the cold night sea. The icicles hanging from the ends of the eaves melted in the lukewarm sunlight during the day, but grew longer and more pointed at night.

The butterfly scratched the corner of the ramen box and sharpened its claws. Trimming claws is not just grooming for cats. It was a warrior's ritual to awaken one's sense of the wild and to face the danger that could come at any moment. On snowy nights, the rats in the alleys and the stray cats that rummage through the trash have all disappeared. The extreme loneliness of feeling like you are the only one awake in the world. But the butterfly did not hate that solitude. Loneliness was also a privilege of contemplation that only living, breathing creatures could enjoy.

If you were a pet cat lounging around in someone's warm living room eating its fill,

I would have never known the dance of snowflakes shining so brilliantly or the smell of cold frost crossing the night sky. 'The snow is cold, but because of that coldness, you can know the value of warmth.'

The butterfly licked the snow powder from under its chin and chanted in its heart. On the other side of the alley, at the bottom corner of the hill, is a small bakery with a light on. The sweet scent rising from there was not just the smell of food. It was a sign of hope that somewhere in this harsh and harsh world, there still exists a kind hand that warmly embraces life. The butterfly looked at the light of hope and took another deep breath. The excitement that I might be able to encounter miraculous warmth tomorrow morning was warming my small heart.

During the long winter nights, stray cats become the city's hidden poets. The butterfly stuck its head out through the gap in the box and stared at the small water droplets and ice particles falling from the eaves. The sound of the wind filling the alley was not just noise. It was a sigh of time passing between the old brick walls, and a silent song mingled with the sweat and tears of countless people who had built their lives on this hillside.

'It's already been the third winter since I stayed in this alley.'

The butterfly looked back on the past days. In spring, the scent of lilacs filled the alley, in summer, the sound of cicadas filled my ears, and in fall, red persimmon leaves spread like silk on the alley floor. The seasons constantly cycle and the world changes ceaselessly,

The weight of life allowed to stray cats has always been heavy and precarious. The harsh reality of fighting over just one trash can. However, despite its cruelty, Butterfly never harmed other cats or behaved viciously. He chose to starve rather than take away from others, and when he saw a young life that was weaker than his own, he was the first to avoid it. Because of his upright spirit, even though he lost one eye, he was able to live a proud life without being ashamed of himself. Beyond the night sky, where snowflakes were fluttering, the North Star emitted a diamond-like icy light.

The butterfly buried itself deep in the red flannel blanket again. When tomorrow morning comes, perhaps a warm smell will rise from the bakery at the bottom of the hill again. With that hope alone, I was able to fully endure tonight's cold wind. As time passed and midnight passed, the snow in Seongbuk-dong had now become one giant blanket, covering the world. The butterfly sat quietly with its back against the inner corner of the box and listened to the sound of its heart. The heart that beats in this small chest has overcome countless dangers to come this far. The fear of roadkill, the scars of turf wars, the bone-chilling chill of winter...

The reason he was able to overcome it all was because of his silent belief that someday complete warmth would come to him, too. The light from the alley street lights scattered among the pale snowflakes, creating an orange bokeh. The butterfly quietly closed and opened its only right eye. Although the world in front of his eyes was only half, the world in his heart was more complete and richer than any other human heart. Wounds were not something to be ashamed of. It was proof that I had survived, and a blessing from God that opened the eyes of my soul to a deeper level. The butterfly quietly murmured a song and completely embraced the snowy night on the hillside of Seongbuk-dong.

White snow flowers were blooming on each dry branch of the persimmon tree standing at the entrance of the alley. The butterfly took a breath inside the box, quietly waiting for the morning sunlight to come to the alley after this winter night. Wounds heal and memories fade, but the warmth of life I felt every moment I lived remained in my heart forever. On a snowy night in Seongbuk-dong, a one-eyed cat in a small box fell into a deep sleep, dreaming the most peaceful dream in the world.