My name is K. I am a cat.
Is this one letter really my name? No. I actually do have another name. But I hope you won’t worry too much about that. So, K. That is enough.
I mentioned it earlier, but I’m a cat.
From the tips of my ears to the end of my tail, I wear rich black fur. Unlike common mixed-breed cats, my coat doesn’t have even one hair of a different hue. This unadulterated color testifies to my noble pedigree.
My superiority does not stop with just my coat.
Perfectly balanced proportions, alert ears, and gracefully curving tail; in other words, I am perfect. In addition, I can land soundlessly from any height with my plump, soft paws.
And how about my elegantly curved whiskers sprouting from my muzzle? Specimens of excellence which simultaneously satisfy both functional and aesthetic roles! Of course, my large, round eyes and beautiful, strong claws cannot be left out.
Perfect from any and all angles, I am a cold, lone-spirited city cat. Undeniably warm towards my woman, though. Sigh.
At the time, I was sitting on the shelf, with overwhelming poise, and looking down from my perch.
I could see a human woman humming to herself. Seeing how she was almost dancing, it appeared she was in quite a good mood.
She was enthusiastically stirring the cauldron with a ladle. An ominous smoke rose from the cauldron which was big enough for a human to take a bath in. A little while before, the human woman had put many curious items into the cauldron. Ah, but I hope you don’t take this the wrong way. Not all humans were like that woman. Because she was a witch who stayed aloof even towards others.
The woman who had been energetically stirring the cauldron lifted her head suddenly. The fur on my tail stood on end at the sight of the old witch looking about the room. Having scanned the room, she finally found me and opened her purple lips.
It seems that the witch has finally gone senile.
“Blackie, you rascal!”
She kept saying nonsensical things while looking at me. Pretending not to have heard, I just flicked my tail once. At that, the old witch’s face twisted dreadfully.
“Come down this instant! You lazy cat! Come down before I boil you alive in this cauldron!”
The old witch was furious. My delicate ears felt like they were about to tear from the witch’s yelling. I would have liked to sew that pruney mouth shut, but I resisted the temptation. Because I am a cold city cat.
Once I leapt down onto the floor and let out a long meow, the witch’s cruel expression relaxed a little. She was happy with my meow. Crazy old hag.
The witch resumed stirring the cauldron. Sitting at her feet, I looked up at the huge thing. The witch was making a potion for a very strong spell. It was definitely a potion to make a person fall into a deep slumber. The man, who had visited the witch yesterday, had asked for ‘a potion which induces a deep sleep similar to death.’ I didn’t know if the man intended to use the potion on someone, but in any case, any human who consumed the potion would fall into a deep, death-like sleep exactly as mentioned. Speaking from experience, the witch’s potions worked fabulously well.
Actually, I wasn’t always a cat.
I am actually a human who was born and raised in a country called South Korea. It might be hard to believe, but it’s the truth.
I was born a descendant of a noble family to the daughter of the “Park” lineage. I grew up in quite an affluent household, always an object of admiration and raised sheltered from life. It was that fateful day. Not much time was left until what was called the “college entrance exams,” and I had been studying for the approaching test when I suddenly opened my eyes to find myself deep in the heart of the mountains. How in the world I ended up there, I don’t know, but after wandering lost in the forest, it was a stroke of bad luck that the person I met was the old witch. It couldn’t have been anything other than tragically unlucky.
Feigning hospitality to my lost self, she took me to her cottage and gave me a magic potion. I lost consciousness, and when I awoke, I found I had already been turned into a cat.
Ah. The witch was cackling and laughing darkly. It appeared she had finally finished making her potion. Sitting next to her neatly, I glanced at her face and saw she was squinting her eyes and had stopped stirring the cauldron. She was definitely done making it.
“Want some, Blackie?” she cackled.
The witch chattered while looking down at me. She thrust the ladle filled with purple liquid toward me, and I let out a whining Nyaa-ong— toward her. Stop it. Crazy hag.
Whether she understood it, I couldn’t tell, but she laughed heartily. Looking at the witch, I once again hardened my resolve. Today I would do away with this gloomy old hag and make my escape.
The witch brought a glass bottle over from the shelf. She scooped up a full ladle of the magic potion and carefully poured it into the bottle. Her attention was entirely focused on the task.
I kicked all my brainpower into full gear and started to calculate. Mathematics, physics, and statistics, of course, but I even utilized probability and biophysics. Do not be astounded by my knowledge of higher feline studies. I mentioned this before, but it was all due to my precious noble blood.
Anyhow, after considering all the factors and possibilities, there was no mistake, the conditions at that moment were perfect. With no need to hesitate any longer, I stood up. Then, I bit and tore at the witch’s bony ankle in front of me.
Bingo. The witch screamed and jumped in surprise. After making sure that the witch was hopping about on one leg, I launched my body into the air. Somersaulting 180 degrees, I gave the witch’s butt a hard kick.
She fell head first, arms flailing, straight into the cauldron. After jumping several more times on her back, for good measure, I landed gracefully on the ground. A perfect 100 out of 100 landing.
“B-Blackie, you damned scoundrel of a cat…!”
The witch, who had just pulled her head out of the cauldron, babbled at me, her body teetering. At some point, she had gotten hold of a broom, and she swung it at me. Although getting hit meant several days of pain, I was a dignified, elegant cat and stood my ground, gazing at the witch loftily. I didn’t feel fear or anything of the sort. I didn’t avoid the broom or flinch from the swings. Because I was a cold, city cat.
“You, damn, damned…”
While weakly attempting to brandish the broom, the wobbling witch fell to the ground with a thud. I went over to her splayed out body and stomped on her face with my paws. Since attacking her in this fallen state would be an uncool act, I didn’t use my claws.
I looked at the cottage for the last time and turned my back on it without any lingering feelings.
Somewhere beyond these deep woods there should be a human village. I had to go there, and find a way to lift the witch’s spell, and find a way back home. It certainly wouldn’t be an easy task, but I had no qualms about that. It was something I needed to do no matter what.
Darkness fell over the forest, and the enveloping black greeted me. I directed my steps toward that place with a light heart.
I am cat K.
Born and raised in a country called South Korea, a person of noble lineage of the “Park” family. Finding myself in an unfamiliar world and under the spell of a witch, I am a victim of misfortune.
But pay no heed to my circumstances.
Because now, I am not a person of the noble “Park” family, nor the “Blackie” of the old witch; I am merely lone-spirited cat K. Nothing more and nothing less.