It was 19 years ago when you met her, in autumn. You were on top of a building watching how humans laughed and chatted between them in the festival that was happening on your feet. You always found humans interesting but maintained distance with them. It’s better to see than to be seen.

It was getting dark and your ears caught the cry of a kid. You jumped off the building and with light steps you were quickly under a bridge, from where the sounds were coming. A little girl, no more than 8 years old, was crying. She had her arm covering her eyes and a little scratch on her knee. You didn’t realize you came into her view until she stopped crying and pouted to you.

You turned quickly and started walking back to the rooftop. Don’t interact with humans. That’s the one and only rule you have to follow. What the hell were you doing? Yet you didn’t go far because the pouty girl started calling for you. She called you “unnie” between sobs. Until this day you don’t know what’s gotten into you but you turned back and approached the little girl slowly.

When you were in front of her you lowered yourself to her level and she stopped crying. Good. You felt relieved. Wait. Why would you have felt relieved? She was a human. Humans hunted down many of your kind. All of you were reduced to bloody, human hunting animals only heard of in fairy tales. It was their fault. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a small hand in your cheek. It was ridiculous. That litt