People like to say money makes the world move.
I think it's greed.
Greed is quieter. More patient. It sits inside people and whispers until they forget what really matters.
Maybe that's why I never fit in.
While everyone else chased trends, grades, popularity, or dreams of getting rich, I found myself staring at trees, clouds, rivers — things that didn't want anything from me. Nature never judged. Never demanded. It simply existed.
Unlike people.
I didn't have many friends.
Actually… none.
But I told myself I preferred it that way.
At least, that's what I believed until the night I met her.
The park near my house was almost empty after sunset. Only the buzzing of insects and the occasional rustle of leaves broke the silence. The lamps flickered weakly, throwing long, tired shadows across the pavement.
I liked walking there alone.
It felt like the world had finally stopped talking.
I was staring at the sky, watching clouds drift across the moon, when something brushed against my leg.
Soft.
Warm.
Alive.
I flinched.
Looking down, I saw a small cat.
Gray fur. Thin body. Big, curious eyes that reflected the light like glass.
She didn't run away.
Instead, she rubbed her head against me again, purring as if we had known each other forever.
"…Where did you come from?" I muttered.
She only blinked.
That was the first time in a long while something had approached me without fear or hesitation.
So I took her home.
I gave her leftover fish and an old towel to sleep on.
And for some reason, the house didn't feel as empty that night.
I named her Miku.
Last summer, my family visited my grandpa's house in the countryside.
It sat at the edge of the village, right beside a slow, quiet river. Behind it, mountains rose like sleeping giants. The air smelled cleaner there — like soil and rain instead of gasoline and smoke.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful, some people would say.
But to me, it felt perfect.
And of course, Miku came with me.
She was restless during the ride, meowing softly inside her carrier, but once we arrived, she relaxed quickly. She explored every corner like she belonged there.
Like she had returned home.
I didn't think much about that at the time.
That night, sleep wouldn't come.
The moonlight leaking through the window was too bright.
So I went outside.
Midnight air brushed against my skin, cool and gentle. Crickets chirped somewhere in the fields. The whole village was asleep.
I walked toward the old mountain path near the abandoned temple.
It was stupid.
Everyone said not to go there at night.
But the moon was full.
And something about full moons always pulled me outside.
Halfway there, I noticed soft footsteps behind me.
Miku.
Quiet as always, tail swaying.
"You shouldn't follow me," I whispered, picking her up.
She didn't resist.
Her body felt unusually warm.
Then suddenly—
Something changed.
A strange uneasiness crept into my chest.
Like being watched.
Like the air had grown heavier.
Before I could react, Miku jumped out of my arms.
She landed silently… and ran straight into the darkness.
"Miku!"
I chased after her.
Branches scratched my arms. Gravel slipped under my feet.
But she was gone.
Vanished.
No sound. No shadow.
Nothing.
I should've turned back.
Anyone else would have.
But instead… I kept walking forward.
Even now, I don't know why.
The deeper I went, the quieter the world became.
No insects.
No wind.
Even my footsteps sounded muffled.
Then—
A sound behind me.
Crunch.
Slow.
Heavy.
I turned.
And my heart nearly stopped.
A bear.
Huge. Brown. Massive enough to crush me without effort.
It stared.
I froze.
For a second, we simply looked at each other.
Then it stepped forward.
My body finally remembered how to move.
I ran.
Branches slapped my face. My lungs burned.
The ground disappeared beneath my foot.
And then—
I fell.
The world flipped upside down.
Sky.
Earth.
Pain.
Darkness.
Morning light woke me.
Birds chirped above.
I was lying on damp grass.
My whole body ached.
"…Where am I…?"
This wasn't the path.
This wasn't even the mountain.
The trees were different.
Taller.
Thicker.
Older.
Like something from another world.
A cold realization settled in.
I was lost.
Completely.
No signal. No voices. No roads.
Just endless forest.
I sat down and laughed weakly.
Of course this would happen to me.
Then—
A familiar meow.
Miku.
Standing a few meters away.
Watching me.
Relief hit so hard it almost hurt.
But when I stepped closer, she ran again.
"Wait!"
She kept her distance, glancing back as if telling me to follow.
Like she was guiding me somewhere.
Hunger came next.
Then thirst.
Survival wasn't like in games or movies.
It was messy. Slow. Frustrating.
I failed at catching fish for almost two hours.
Burned my first one completely.
Still ate it anyway.
It tasted terrible.
But it kept me alive.
By evening, exhaustion weighed heavier than fear.
I found a small cave and collapsed inside.
Cold stone against my back.
My eyes slowly closed.
Then—
A silhouette at the entrance.
Moonlight behind it.
Small.
Familiar.
"Miku…"
She stepped inside.
But something was wrong.
Her body—
It was stretching.
Growing.
Bones shifting with soft cracking sounds.
Fur dissolving like smoke.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't move.
Where a cat stood…
A girl now stood.
Long hair.
Pale skin.
Golden eyes that felt too ancient to belong to a human.
My brain refused to accept what I was seeing.
Dream.
It had to be.
It had to—
She walked closer.
Each step gentle.
Careful.
Like she was afraid I might disappear.
Then she cupped my face with warm hands.
Hands.
Not paws.
Not claws.
Hands.
"…Master Kito," she whispered softly.
Her voice trembled.
"It has been so long."
My thoughts shattered.
"What… what are you…?"
She smiled.
Sad.
Nostalgic.
Like someone looking at an old photograph.
"It seems you don't remember anything."
Before I could ask anything else—
Snap.
Darkness swallowed everything.
I woke up in my grandpa's house.
My bed.
Morning sunlight through the window.
Birds outside.
Normal.
Too normal.
Like nothing had ever happened.
No injuries.
No dirt.
No proof.
"…Just a dream…?"
Then something brushed against my leg.
Soft.
Warm.
Alive.
Miku looked up at me.
Her eyes lingered a second too long.
Not like a pet.
Like someone who knew me.
Who was waiting.
And for some reason—
My chest tightened.
Like I had forgotten something important.
Something precious.
Something I wasn't meant to forget.
But I did.