Episode 2: The World Seen with One Eye and Moonlight

The night sky, when the snow had stopped, was as transparent and clear as glass. As the gray clouds cleared, the round, cold winter full moon appeared. The roofs of hanoks and red brick houses in Seongbuk-dong, Seoul, covered with pure white snow, shimmered coolly like a huge ice palace under the silver moonlight. The butterfly was sitting quietly on the corner of the slate roof of an old two-story Western-style house. The sound of snow crunching and freezing underfoot broke the stillness of the night. The pure white shadow of the moon was reflected in the boy's only right eye, a clear and deep emerald eye. 'Sit alone under the moonlight,

Looking at half the world. That shining moon is intact,

How can I have half an eye? Beyond my lost left eye

Invisible memories pass by. The screams of that day, the cold blood,

And the little breath in my arms...' The butterfly looked up at the night sky and swallowed a low cry. For cats, vision is everything to survival. Only by understanding the three-dimensional distance with two eyes can you run nimbly over a narrow wall, catch a bird flying in the air, and nimbly avoid the attack of a fiercely attacking natural enemy. But three years ago, after that tragic winter night, Butterfly's world was torn in half. The left field of vision was eternal pitch black darkness. Unless I turned my head completely to the left, I had no idea what was coming from that direction.

For the first time, I couldn't take a single step because of that fear. I often hit my head against the wall, and sometimes I misjudged the height and fell from the roof, injuring my ribs. But time passes, and life finds a way even in despair. Instead of losing one eye, the butterfly's other senses awakened to be ten times more sensitive than before. I learned to read the subtle shades of objects and the refraction of light with just my right eye. Just by looking at the angle at which snowflakes blow in the wind, changes in wind speed and pressure could be noticed, and the passage of time could be measured by the length of the moonlight shadow on the roof tiles.

In addition, his ears could pick up the subtle sound of earthworms digging into the soil in the night fog, and his nose could discern the smell of fish stew boiling 500 meters away. The whiskers became antennas that sensed the slightest flow and vibration of the air, instinctively warning of approaching danger from the invisible space on the left.

“Meow…”

The butterfly carefully approached the edge of the roof and looked down. The alley was dead quiet. Only the streetlights illuminated the snow-covered road in an orange circle. It was time for everyone to close the thick cold curtains, bury themselves in the warmth of the ondol room, and fall asleep. This was the time for stray cats. During the day, the little souls that had been hiding in the darkness, chased by people's shouts and car horns, emerged one by one. A slender calico cat was walking cautiously on the wall in the distance, and a tuxedo cat with its tail cut off was rummaging through frozen cabbage pods next to the garbage can.

When their eyes met, they lightly lifted their tails and greeted each other. Even without saying a word, we could read the hardships and comfort of the same situation in each other's eyes. 'You survived, my friend.'

'Yes, I survived today too.'

That was enough. Life on the road is not about dreaming of a grand future, but just enduring the cold of tonight and welcoming the sunlight of tomorrow morning is a great victory. The butterfly slowly came down from the roof. I climbed over the brick wall and jumped down onto the outdoor unit of the old air conditioner. It was a perfect landing without even a thud. Although he had only one eye, his flexible muscles and sense of balance still retained the agility of his prime. As I landed on the alley, the cold powder of snow penetrated my fur.

The butterfly had a destination. That sweet, warm smell that had been flowing through the wind since earlier in the day. ‘Christmas Pang’ is a small bakery on the first floor of a red brick building located at a three-way intersection at the bottom of the hill. The butterfly walked carefully down the narrow alley. During the day, I only went through dark sewer holes or boiler room crevices to avoid people's eyes, but deep at night, I could confidently walk in the middle of the street. Four footprints left on the pure white snow. Behind the footsteps, the butterfly's long tail swayed gracefully. As I reached the three-way intersection, a fantastic scene completely different from the dark alley unfolded before my eyes.

A small Christmas tree was erected in the front yard of the bakery, with colorful glass beads, golden ribbons, and softly twinkling pine cone lights emitting a brilliant light as they met the snow. The store's sign had the words 'Christmas Pain' written in cursive on a piece of warm wood. In French, ‘Pain’ means bread. In other words, it meant ‘Christmas bread’, but at the same time it also meant ‘pain’ in English. Of course, the butterfly did not know human letters, but it was amazingly able to discern the smell coming from the store.

Warm yellow light was pouring in through the window. Inside the store, the work of kneading and baking bread to be served to customers the next morning seemed to be in full swing. The butterfly silenced the sound of its footsteps and approached under the large floor-to-ceiling window in front of the store. White frost had frozen into the shape of a snowflake at the bottom of the window, but the scenery inside the store was clearly visible through the gap. The inside of the store seemed warmer and more peaceful than any place Nabi had ever seen in her life. Freshly baked baguettes, round campagnes, and golden brown croissants were neatly placed on the brown wooden shelves that lined the entire wall.

White flour was sprinkled like snow on the large baking table in the center, and red heating elements were blazing in the huge stainless steel oven, giving off the delicious smell of bread. And in front of the oven, a young man stood. The man had a dark gray beanie pressed down on his head, and a cozy-looking cream-colored knit muffler around his neck. The brown leather apron worn over the navy sweater was naturally stained with white flour. The man was skillfully removing a plate of freshly baked bread from the oven using a large wooden paddle.

As soon as the bread pan came out, the hot steam and the scent of butter spread through the ventilation fan and into the alley outside. The butterfly swallowed dry saliva without realizing it. The frozen ship growled and rocked. But at that moment, the man put the bread board down on the shelf and slightly lifted his beanie to wipe his sweat. The warm orange lighting inside the store illuminated the man's face directly. The butterfly's emerald eyes, which were watching with bated breath outside the window, widened greatly for an instant. man's face. A sharp, sturdy jawline, and deep, profound eyes beneath dark eyebrows.

But above his left eye, there was a distinct scar that stretched from his forehead to his cheek. And the man's left eye was blurry and unfocused. 'That person... is just like me.'

An indescribable thrill arose in the butterfly’s small heart. One eye. Even in the human world, an imperfect body would have been the subject of discrimination and prejudice. I saw many people wandering the alleys, but this was the first time in my life that I had seen a person like myself, silently enduring the darkness with a deep wound over his left eye. The man was seeing the light of the world with only one eye. The deep loneliness and loneliness that oozes from his curved back and silent hand movements. It was very similar to the loneliness of the butterfly herself, curled up in a crumpled box of ramen and comforting herself on a bitter winter night.

It was then. The man who was organizing the bread suddenly turned his gaze. Through the frost forming at the bottom of the window, he noticed a small tuft of golden fur staring intently at him. The man's movements suddenly stopped. The butterfly was startled and tried to step back. If you don't run away when you make eye contact with a human, the only things that always fly are brooms or rocks. The stray cat's long-standing survival instinct made the muscles of its entire body tense. He took a step back and curled his tail between his legs. But the man neither screamed nor picked up the club.

The man slowly, very slowly got off the baking table and walked in front of the glass window. Then I bent my knees and brought my face closer to the cold glass window. The gazes of two people, or rather a human and a cat, collided in the air across a transparent glass window. The man's healthy right eye and the butterfly's clear right eye looked at each other. And the wounded left faces of the two beings faced each other like a mirror. A very faint and gentle smile appeared on the man's lips. It was not a look of ridicule or disgust.

It was a deep, warm smile of understanding and compassion that only someone who had experienced the same pain as him could make. The man slightly raised his hand toward the glass window. It was a rough hand covered in thick calluses, but it was clearly conveyed through the gesture that there was absolutely no intention to harm the guy. The butterfly stopped trying to run away. The silent warmth emanating from beyond the glass window seemed to be transmitted through the small cotton soles that had hardened on the cold snow field.

“Meow…”

For the first time in its life, the butterfly cried in a small, soft voice without warning towards humans. In the bitter cold of a winter night, it was a miraculous moment when two wounded souls recognized each other for the first time. At 2 a.m., the world on the rooftop moved in a completely different order than on the ground. If the earth is a space filled with human laws and regulations, ownership and exclusion,

The path in the air connected to the roof and wall was a free kingdom of only the wind, moonlight, and stray cats. The butterfly sat down next to the chimney, shaking off the snow, and quietly looked down at the surroundings. A unique sensory distortion occurs in cats that look at the world with one eye. The two-dimensional view with no sense of depth gave me extreme fear at first, but now, three years later, it has allowed me to look at the essence of things more transparently. Instead of the sense of distance disappearing, the outlines of objects and the contrast of light were engraved on the retina much more clearly and intensely than with both eyes. The orange aura of the sodium streetlight illuminating the alley below,

Snowflakes on the tips of roof tiles break into bluish silver fragments in the moonlight,

And the soft trail of gray smoke rising from the chimney... To Nabi, the world was a huge ink painting, a magical canvas where light and darkness intersected. 'Why are humans trapped in such a narrow box?'

The butterfly was lost in thought as she looked at the unlit windows on the second floor. People live with their windows covered with thick curtains and their doors tightly locked. They have a warm boiler and a soft bed, but they do not know the glare of the Milky Way in the night sky or the refreshing thrill of cold moonlight brushing against their fur. They work tirelessly all day to own more, distrust each other, and build high walls. Even though Nabi was a one-eyed stray cat who had nothing,

On this night, I was freer than the emperor who had the entire Seongbuk-dong, Seoul at his feet. A wild spirit who lives with the moonlight as a blanket and the wind as a friend. Of course, the price of cold and hunger was harsh, but freedom always demands its own weight. At that time, I felt a small sign of popularity beyond the corner of the rooftop. His beard trembled slightly, reading the airflow. The sound of light footsteps. Coming up on the snow-covered slate roof was ‘Inspiration’, the oldest gray cat in the neighborhood. The old man was a seasoned road veteran with one ear torn off and the tip of his tail bluntly cut off. “Snowflake, you were here watching the moon again.”

The old man cried softly in a hoarse voice. The butterfly turned its head and greeted the old man with his eyes. “Young Master, aren’t you asleep yet?”

“How can you sleep in this murderous cold? If you fall asleep, you’ll freeze and never wake up. Tsk tsk… It’s particularly harsh tonight. The sharp wind coming down from Bukhansan Mountain is unusual.” The old man came next to the butterfly and sat down next to her, rubbing her fur. The sight of two old and injured cats sitting side by side on the roof looking at the cold winter moon was as heavy and sorrowful as a poem in itself. “Still, you are amazing. You jumped into a pack of vicious wild dogs, saved the life of a young blood, and even lost one of your eyes… you survived so steadfastly.”

The old man's voice contained deep respect for the butterfly. The butterfly smiled quietly. “Because you’re alive. As long as you’re still breathing, you can’t give up.”

“That’s right. Even tiny creatures like us are God’s creatures, and surviving is a blessing in itself. But be careful, snowflake. The young man at the new bakery down the hill... Don’t get caught up in people’s hands too easily. Humans are a very fickle species.” At the old man's advice, the butterfly suddenly looked down at the 'Christmas Pang' bakery emitting warm yellow lights below. The young man's eyes. The lonely and kind eyes of the man, who had a deep scar over his left eye just like him, were by no means the false smile of a capricious person.

The butterfly silently repeated to herself. ‘No, old man. That person is different. In that person's eyes... there was the same sadness as mine.' The roof above, where the white moonlight poured in, was an altar of contemplation and prayer for the cat. Humans think that cats are just instinctive animals that seek food and sleep, but

Cats who have lived on the road for a long time looking at the stars in the night sky have a soul as deep and noble as that of humans. The butterfly leaned in the shadow of the chimney and stared into the cold moonlight. In the guy's clear right eye, the dipper-shaped constellation of the Big Dipper along with a silver moon were clearly visible. The stars floating in the sky are a compass that guides stray cats, and are also the sparkling eyes of the souls of the ancestral cats that crossed the Rainbow Bridge first. 'Spotted brother, Black Grandpa... Is it warm in there?'

The butterfly sent its message to the sky. Last winter, former colleagues were found frozen next to a trash can, unable to overcome the cold and hunger. Their bodies returned to the dust, but the survival wisdom and loyalty they taught the butterflies were still alive and breathing in their bones. "Don't be afraid to get hurt for others, kid. It's a shame to be born as a cat and die after only surviving for one's own body. Protecting the weak and surviving proudly... that's the path of a warrior on the road."

These were the words spoken by Kamsangi, an old captain cat who protected his kittens even when their ears were torn off by wild dogs, before he passed away. The butterfly gently rubbed the area around its closed left eye with its front paw. The extreme pain of that night when his eyeballs were torn out by wild dogs flashed past him like a flash, but not a single regret remained in his heart. By now, the young bloody kitten that had been saved by sacrificing one of its eyes would have become a beloved pet cat in a warm home, sleeping sweetly on a soft sofa.

That alone was more than enough to compensate for the butterfly's wounds. As the moon began to set in the western sky, the tile roofs of Seongbuk-dong began to turn into the bluish dawn light. The butterfly approached the edge of the roof and lowered itself down. It was soon time for warm smoke to rise from the chimney of the ‘Christmas Pang’ bakery at the corner of the hill below. The time when the friendly young man lights the oven. The butterfly hurried to prepare for the morning, with an excited warmth in her heart. The moonlight pouring over the tiled roof was not just lighting, but a silver blessing from the sky.

The butterfly carefully stepped on the edge of the eaves of the roof and tested the feeling in the soles of its feet. The frozen slate was as slippery as ice, but its sharp claws grabbed the slightest gap and maintained its balance without wavering. Living with one eye was an endless compromise with the world and the creation of new senses. People often define disability only as a loss, but

Life in nature always blooms new senses in places of deficit. The left eye closed to the butterfly was no longer painful. It made the skin more sensitive to the direction of the wind,

It has become a sharp antenna that does not miss even the slightest sound.

Above all, it was the eye of a compassionate heart that could see through the pain and deficiency of others at a glance. 'The sadness that was in the eyes of the young man in the bakery below...'

The butterfly looked down at the corner at the bottom of the hill and remembered the image of a young man. A red, thick scar carved into the left side of his face. The young man must have shed tears secretly amidst the world's numerous gazes and prejudices. Perhaps the young man was also breathing in solitude, trapped in a lonely box like himself, in the middle of this cold city, where no one recognized him. “Meow…”

The butterfly sent its soft cries on the night wind. Two beings with the same wound met in a corner of a huge city. It was no coincidence. It was the inevitability of cold and loneliness, and the secret arrangement of the winter sky to melt each other's frozen souls. The early morning moon was slanting toward Seosan, and a pale purple glow began to shine over the ridge of Bukhansan Mountain. A new morning was approaching. Moonlight poured down on the rooftop like a silver net. The butterfly went around the corner of the chimney and landed on the highest ridge of the slate roof.

The night view of Seongbuk-dong and the Gangbuk area in Seoul spread out below us and was dazzlingly beautiful. The white, snow-covered hanok tiles were connected like waves, and in the distance, the skyscrapers of Hyehwa-dong and Jongno were embroidering colorful neon signs in the night sky. The night view seen with one eye was like turning the pages of an elaborate three-dimensional picture book one by one. The slight tremors of light that had passed unnoticed when I looked at it with both eyes became clear as if by magic as they were concentrated in one right eye. Warm incandescent light shining through a gap in the rooftop window,

The red and blue warning lights of a patrol car slowly turning through an alley,

And the dark wings of winter migratory birds flying quietly through the night sky. The butterfly sat quietly and listened to the sounds carried in the night air. The world of humans was in deep rest, free from the hustle and bustle of the day. From the window of a house, the low sound of a mother soothing her baby could be heard singing a lullaby.

From another house, the mournful sound of an old man's dry cough could be heard. All those sounds formed one huge symphony of life in the silence of the snow-covered alley. "Nyaow..."

The butterfly responded softly towards the sky. The world seems cold and cold, but inside that cold shell, each precious life is living and sharing warmth. Even though he is a humble stray cat who has lost one eye,

It was a beautiful note that should never be left out in this great symphony of life. The butterfly felt pride and peace welling up in her heart, and quietly waited for the morning on the roof with the dawn light. The world above the roof was the path of the wind and the realm of moonlight. The butterfly sat on the edge of the eaves of the roof and felt the winter wind blowing from the foot of Bukhansan Mountain with its whole body. A cat's whiskers are precision radars made up of 24 sensory cells. By reading the angle at which the wind blows and the slight changes in air pressure, he figured out tomorrow's weather and the dynamics of every corner of the alley in advance. 'The world seen through one eye is truly strange.'

The butterfly blinked quietly. Pitch-black darkness on the left and a dazzling silver world on the right. That extreme contrast actually taught me about the two sides of life. Where there is light, there is always darkness, and where there is sadness, there is always comforting warmth. His closed left eye was not just a defect. It was another window of the mind, gazing into the invisible world of the soul. In the distance, I saw the silhouette of a stray cat leaping onto the roof of a hanok. That elegant curve that cuts through the air with the moonlight at its back.

Even though stray cats are poor and miserable, they never lose their dignity and flexibility. The perfect body proportions and noble silence that God gave to cats. The butterfly watched happily, its tail fluttering. As dawn approached, the deep navy blue of the night sky slowly faded and a silver-gray dawn spread. A new day was about to begin. The silence at 3 a.m. was a sacred time to purify all the troubles of the city. The butterfly came down from the ridge of the roof and sat neatly next to the old brick chimney. The slight warmth flowing from the chimney gently enveloped the creature's frozen side.

'The stars are so clear.'

The butterfly looked up at the cold night sky. As the city lights died down, thousands of small stars that were not normally visible twinkled as if they were pouring down to form the Milky Way. Cats' eyes have tapetum lucidum (reflectors) that amplify light in the dark, allowing them to capture even the slightest starlight like a brilliant jewel. The constellations seen with one eye were like mysterious spiderwebs embroidered in the sky. The butterfly looked at the starlight and said a quiet prayer for the brothers who had left before her.

Being alive was in itself a blessing and a sacred duty. The butterfly took a deep breath of the cold night air and cast a firm gaze towards the approaching dawn. The snowflakes falling on the roof were a silver psalm offered by the sky to the night sky. The butterfly sat on the corner of the chimney and savored the feel of each snowflake melting as it touched the tip of its nose. The cat's whiskers were so delicate that they could even sense the weight of raindrops and snowflakes. Every time a drop of cold water stimulated the hair roots, all kinds of sparks of sensation crackled in his mind.

'After this winter, spring will come again with flowers blooming.'

The butterfly pictured the coming seasons in its mind. Days when yellow forsythia is in full bloom on the alley walls, and you can lie down on your stomach and take a nap under the warm spring sun. Although the biting cold and hunger are weighing down my whole body right now,

Only those who survived the winter were worthy of enjoying the splendor of spring. The butterfly's only right eye sparkled, and it purred deeply toward the hopeful tomorrow to come. The tile ridges of Seongbuk-dong, where the moonlight breaks white. The butterfly stood at the edge of the eaves of the roof and looked at the countless stars that decorated the night sky. Even in the darkness of my left eye where I had lost my vision, my mind's eye fully embraced the brilliant Milky Way in the entire universe. Freedom is not achieved by having a lot of things, but it is a flower of the soul that blooms only when one fully acknowledges one's lack. The butterfly took a deep and heavy breath and proudly raised its head towards the approaching dawn.